"I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing."

--from "Preludes," Eliot.

"The secrets of the night come alive in your eyes ( Read more... )

This was in response to some Writer's Block prompt about infidelity ( Read more... )

[A lot of people (strange & familiar) have been telling me I'm beautiful lately.  It's amazing what better posture can do for you.  Thank you, yoga & pilates.]

When I make a fist and then cup it to my ear with the thumb facing my ear, it's the same sound that comes from a conch shell.  Wind.  A little higher in pitch.  It's cool. 

So pick the black rose...

This year...this strange, fucked up year.  Death, death, death, and beginning.  On one hand I scream into white pillows and say Stop.  Enough.  Don't take anyone else.

On the other, I am amazed by small beginnings.  I don't want to talk about the circle of life.  Don't tell me that my lost loved ones are part of the ( Read more... )

In this dream, I was standing in a room that didn't know if it wanted to be a garage or house ( Read more... )

Maybe poetry is so good for the soul because it can be life-affirming.  In the most trying time of my life, I carried with me only a book of poems.  How my soul starved for beauty then, some glimpse into the divine ( Read more... )

I miss you miss you miss you miss you miss you

Balls, balls, I'm so sick of hearing about balls.  Why don't you grow some balls.  He doesn't have the balls to do it.  My balls are so big, i can't help but grope you ( Read more... )

I drift and drift ( Read more... )