the gas leaks out beneath her shirt ( Read more... )

I made a wrong turn somewhere. I'm not sure where, but in these instances...I think you're supposed to go back to the last place you remember feeling comfortable in, the last place you knew where you were. Then you try again.

Only, I don't know if I can get back there. I may have gone too far...

The Holidays are over,
Let the Funerals begin,

Let careless snow fall
into every open coffin.

And when the crow flies
And when the wind stings

Sketch out your feelings
In a blackbird's lost wings.

For white is a hue
no different from black;

Enough of either will kill,
wreck, dismantle, or crack.

Our job relies entirely on the collective notion, which I imagine we all struggle with at some point, that the best way to halt the destructive trends of mankind is not to fight against them and hold them back, but instead to calmly (yet passionately) educate them. It's hard, I find, to maintain hope, because you just wind up talking about all the ( Read more... )

I'm supposed to be updating this with reflections on my time in SCA/Americorps, except that I've given up writing, so I'm finding that challenging.

While it is often a fruitless endeavor, we must allow the heart to follow, when it will, what is practical. For what is practical will never follow the heart.

This night, in solitude ( Read more... )

In the woods tonight ( Read more... )

It is a strange and solemn pattern of humankind, that when we seek to find an object lost to us, we stumble around an area far larger than the item lost (and we manage to imagine this area always larger, no matter what the object we have misplaced) and call out to it, in our way. This way of ours is the strangest part of the whole ritual. We say ( Read more... )

oh darling remember to unsheath the moon ( Read more... )