December 2007
6 posts
2 tags
Touching softly his thin delicately
sleeping arm, fluid— the arm like tenderness drawn out of soul cupping dovechild -sleeping- -evoking this traveling tendernest. Awe found, nestled wove-in length of armwing’s fibrous, clean, soft, featherskin. Un-writ. In. A humming birdsong inside… locked beauty -You- an un-writ key. Tiny dove am not I? Good enough to capture tenderly The essence of what it is to Love— for that lies...
1 tag
While I was (getting) busy-- looking for (The)...
“I have recently considered colloquialism as cannibal— This method of communion; bringing some of uscloser while it is simultaneously tearing u s a ll a part.” -alixa meli.
With in Language— are many hidden languages defined by the speaking interests and values. We no longer say how it is, relying in stead, upon self-defined perceptions of Truth. We stand behind...
1 tag
god.
You that is my mother And my father— My house, home and garden— You— that is— my raging seas blows in bubbles— life with planets as bodies/core— You— whom houses me Realize me On levels far beyond these I am able to comprehend of You— whom is— my house, home and garden—...
1 tag
This vehicle runs on caffeine... coffee is my...
Swallow.
Fresh sweet cup of poe Ive heard its Addict ive heard Its addict ive Heard its addict Ive heard its Addictive Like a fresh cup of joe
There was fire on the horizon at dusk today… PowderSugared Purple mountains OilPainted Steely grey clouds Heavy Soaked with silver rain… soon to be Snow And an inch or so of flame, in-be-sandwiched-tween burning the horizon out in shades of...
1 tag
Griffith Park.
i wake up this morning to find my midnightblue car splattered in white paint or is it snow ? tiny white dots like powdered sugar on a chocolatecarcake i touch them and am momentarily inclined to lick my finger - all that remains of ten thousand trees charred white confetti launched from the tinderbox heart of Los Angeles
down of Angels feathers 40 miles enroute to find me the whole county is...
3 tags
RantIn Weather.
sometimes I just wish the weather would shift gears— returning long forgotten memories— tossed coins in well and something happens— the chill of you th returns (with thoughts and eyes upon)— the sound of fall -in leaves- crunch beneath me— feet on long walks home with feathers— tripping on cracks in concrete image s of pools and tiny streams— making their...