I am a creature of freedom— a creature of freedom. Freedom is tricky. Some days like— mind beats, judgement calls, unsound spectacles unsheathing my soul in sub rosa places only I can see (but boy do I feel). Some days, more like— crawling away hand over hand grubby knees scoot across dust. All the esoteric giggles become covert, stealthy, tainted by criminality.
I am becoming less and less attached to the young female finds herself genre; the rows and rows of book covers featuring strong tanned white females gazing into the sunsets with sloppy grins, mangy hair, and fluorescent teeth. The promise of “life-changing”, “truly inspirational”, “will make you want to pack a bag and go save the orphans”. But when I picked up Ffyona Campbell’s … Read More Spirals in the Sand
Seagulls sound like happy goats and naked babies tickle toes in the water; the first day of spring in the bones is a good day indeed for a picnic with my bare knees. The duck, with feathers slicked from quick dips looks smooth and skilled like a snake, in the water. I perch on my rock ledge wearing my wild hair listening to … Read More Sunlight Spotlight
How peculiar to be so water proof. Like eating a sandwich with only the hands; so much easier than knife and fork, than rain coat umbrella- I’ll just get messy use the restroom hand dryer. These rules we make for not ourselves. Actually I don’t recall making the rules at all.
I’m riding light etched far above my shadows casting brilliant stark on a smooth grass plain the sun is strong the sun is holy holiness is all around me. I taste it— touch it, brush it, holiness snuggles against me tucks my hair behind one ear.
It’s a bottle of wine and a glass of stars— and my heart beat beats like you wouldn’t believe. The wind, she rustles my tresses but solicits no favors; she gathers me up and dip dives down in the valleys of tree tops and tumbled down ran-shacks the very kind I can empathize with.
I rest with the little waves. My feet are sore and feeling heavy a happy heavy, an earned heavy, these waves have traveled a lifetime. We surge together, side by side blood flushes with the swelling tide then down, back down, down for both our sakes’. We ebb and flow and contemplate magnitude, hand in hand, soul in soul with softened gazes a … Read More Magnitude
The forest smells like peppermint and wraps me inside its Christmas hug; are those clouds? or the sea?— Does it matter? The world spins and I spend so much effort dashing the other way. Frantic flailing sort of running the kind that finds me farther back from whence I came.
This is the fire, the fate of the fire: to wax and bulge as I gaze upon it and shrivel and splutter when I turn my cheek— my chagrin is great and displeasure bold, for the night ahead is long. But this is the fate of the fire: to catch a waft a minuscule flick and with just a breath to light a … Read More Fate of the Fire
I have found, when it comes to travel living (i.e. the act of traveling to a place to cultivate a life for a medium-length temporary period of time before moving along to a new destination and repeating the process), I feel almost all emotions in a concentrated dose. To a degree, this happens when I’m just travel-traveling, for a week or so to a … Read More Things Come Together, Things Fall Apart
Before, the world was steady and still soft ankle grass hugging loose not breathing (me either) my hair catching the chapstick (staying put) I held the book with one hand— not a page shivered. But the clouds are moving faster, now— the wind has arisen. My bangs (my fringe) a windshield wiper the grass rushes (still soft, it tickles) my two fingers spring … Read More Precipice