Category: Gratitude

Descending

  So it is with civilized care that I kneel down to the open blank pages of a crease-lined book and cast my memories in its bronze borders. You’re my marauder, my hopeless staircase looting the use from my crouching soul and leading me to dark places too deep to stay dark.

Seaside Avenue

  Once here, I let out a long breath ; the sound thuds dully against the window pane which streams in sunlight from a morning mister. The sound from my breath outweighs the sounds of diggers and cranes from the site on the other side of Seaside Avenue.

Self Serving

  I wrote myself some love poems today, outlined in sun near the ocean’s smile. The waves beat down upon charcoal rocks and up frothed a great many minerals. I absorbed them all, flesh-first, like the fern drinks in the rain. I loved myself with pen and with sun; when thirsty, I drank; when hungry, I ate; when sleepy, I slept—and felt no reason … Read More Self Serving

Write Long

  Be patient, and write long. As long as the strokes of your eye lashes pulse the fingers to keys, then both of us remain alive. Be patient. Your dreams have no anchors; let them float light. Let the throat grow easy and jaw relax. Open and close the hinges of your mouth and feel the knobs of your shoulders merge with the elbows. … Read More Write Long

The Rock and the River

  At the top of the outcrop I sat with my knee-bones tight to my chest— the river undulated below, swirling in shades of blues and yellows refracted light on stones of marble the guttural current cut the cliff to slices–jagged & twisted and

Sourdough Soul

  Don’t ask me to do that. Don’t ask me anything, actually, I’m in deep, deep fermentation & have no flyers to hand out today.

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Creative Process

  Three cheers of a dusted dawn; electric angels sweep the streets, and light clouds skip stones against the still lavender waters of the canal. Earth sings her morning tune, low and orange against the cool palm breeze. Creation calms and tells me I must start today from the inside. No half expressions.

Skin Sounds

  Joy arrives soundless in a cool morning breeze; sunrise rattles through oak palm trees, cooing as she goes, swishing through the drooping leaves. Infinite moments heard by skin only.

Gentle

  Collapsing I tucked my head against my chest and listened to my heart beat. Strong it whispered and my ego faltered and I could hear the ego falter— and I, faltering, briefly exposed an open window to torrential rain marooned against a million chairs held up hardly at all. The trick is always to let the rain in and the carpet go.

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But Surely

  Surely it can’t all be cast to the tan lines. The sun—our cicerone across this celestial plane, casting her silhouettes upon skin shapes etch-a-sketching that which we outfit ourselves with— Surely. That can’t be it. Because I see him

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Timing

  You appeared at the perfect time. Whilst break dancing through religious break-throughs, breakfasting on white light hues, she saw you and the life-guard got off the chair for her turn in the waves.

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Life with Cosmo

  The shadowy evening cast itself long against the sign pole. Stirling Point, the “southern-most point of New Zealand”–not even the southern-most point of Bluff–hung there, suspended, like some glorious trophy I would have given back for more time. My body ached. Electricity was zip-lining through me, pulsing in the backs of my knees, the creases of my elbows, the temple vein. Max, Arwed, … Read More Life with Cosmo