•January 29, 2019 • Leave a Comment

bloom and wilt. high and low. all part of the dance.

•January 8, 2019 • 1 Comment

Merging into the crowd, I am the eye, I am a hundred eyes, I am two, I am one, it goes on and on. I see my mind crawl across the bed and slide along tables. Let’s go somewhere where my heart can knock on yours in the middle of the night, and then beautiful songs, beautiful discussions, we can spend the time arguing about a dot and staring in awe at each other. Sometimes I want to crawl into your lap, take you inside me and hold you while we talk in hushed tones, almost lazily. Sometimes I want to be sitting opposite you, looking into those intense eyes and talking – both of us, passionate, fierce hearts – and then melting into a soft mess of flyaway thoughts and new realizations. Sometimes I want both.

•November 10, 2018 • Leave a Comment

A giggle hanging out to dry. Gold star if you recognize the hello that wasn’t meant for you. Full eyes, full heart, and everything in between.

A girl in a city, the city resting in the girl’s eyes.

Most of your life can be relived through stories, but then, subtext context, subversion?

If my tone changes, the world changes.

Meeting people is different when you have no version of yourself to live up to.

Do it frequently enough, and it’s a habit.

•November 10, 2018 • Leave a Comment

will be dreaming in blues and greens for a while now

•November 9, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Toe peeping from under skirt,
Two cold bottles, two cold cold hands.
The evening winds around her neck.
The evening has its own agenda, a whistle only she can hear.

Call out, and see which face turns up at your window. You can’t pretend you knew this all along.

•November 9, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Finding that sweet spot between action and inaction, the pause before the sip, the look before the kiss. Last call of the soul, last call. Our eyes meet over the loud humans, our souls meet through the energetic debris, but is it a moment or a thought? Is it real, but forgot?

•November 9, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Do I desire that the winds and the fire and the seas and the dust be chronological? Can I ever chart the evolution of a smile? We grow in ways we can’t articulate, calculate, or anticipate. So here I am, pencil in hand, tapping my toes to a tune, growing cell by cell by cell.