The wind and clouds shuffle themselves like the cards in a desparate game of poker. The houses and streets watch the cards fall into place. It is a game of stud poker and what will happen is apparent to any who look. Soon rain will lash the torn awning and the rose of sharon bush. They will lose and leave in the night.

A body at rest tends to stay at rest. Desiring cool, shady places covered with moss or soft pine needles. A place where it may drift as grey ash from summer fires or as winter snow. A place where the souls of dogs have run themeselves ragged, chasing the ground squirrels they imagine. A place where pain of any kind goes unmentioned and where no ( Read more... )

I never left. I was always here. Will always be here. I smelled your skin. Absorbed the vision of you as you were, as you wished to be, as you would become. I remained in the dark center of the eye. Waiting to be seen.

Is this how loneliness is assuaged? The daughters of consolation are fragments of salt, as tears are fragments of oceans. The desperation of our armor is a thin layer of cloud, nothing more than condensation on the surface of things that are not themselves nor anything other than themselves. The scattering of memory. The inhalation of remembering. ( Read more... )

In sleep, I am lost to myself. Lost in forgetting and knowing. Lost in memory and ignorance. A forest grows up within me and I watch the leaves fall as winter invites itself in. Winter feeds illicit hunger, so that I eat the table and chairs. Boxes of illusion are then presented as an offering to hunger. Opened, they reveal the illuminati from a ( Read more... )

In the new apartment, I turn on the tap and a mountain stream springs forth! Amazing! Turn on the hot water and a hot spring materializes. More amazement! A cavern of steam envelopes the small bathroom. What will I find in the coils of moisture? Will I find you? What coded text will be written in droplets on the small mirror? Can it be deciphered? ( Read more... )

Wintry mix equal parts grey and brisk blended with snow, sleet, and rain topped with a dollop of the absent sun and served with enthusiasm. May be accompanied by appetizers of sleep, reading, sex, and hot tomato soup.

There is a stubborn animal in my chest. Perhaps a badger or wolverine. Perhaps a wolf. Regarding the earth, it wishes to stay and breathe the chilly air of morning, when breath is tangible.

The wind is a mountain of cold. The trees bend before it and form circles to resist. Tiny pieces of grit are sharp against my face and I think of the Earth being scoured clean and cleansed by wind. I am soured and cleansed. Polished like stone.

Hello Friends! I hope I'm getting back on track to participate in the LiveJournal community again. I miss each of you very much. Thanks for the cards and good wishes ( Read more... )