tug o' wars, layers to peel, words to say, feelings to feel.
when fate and trust in life coincide with the now.
when the way is supposed to be this way.
(one full moon on the 24th.
one person to solve an enigma.
& the second half
of august waning.)
Monday, August 23, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
i like to keep seashells in my purse, tokens of the ocean, gifts from the womb made of curls and of spirals, seashell reminders of the coast, the edges, the liminal so close, the coast and la haute mer and your tip of the toes pointed, body in a crescent moon, curved inward and downward, forward, plunged, but no more than a pen, carving eulogies on your chest and on your back, with lights so dim, a canvas so blank, and skin smooth as scales but without reflection.