Kindness like an orchard that, with cultivation, bears sweet succulent fruit year after year, peaches with the sun in their hearts.
Quivering, gentle, strong, we are flames in the wind, precious, too easily extinguished.
Sensitivity, oh, complex, nuanced response to the world, and fragility, what I rest my being on. Moments of feeling vulnerable, and fragile, it's exquisite, open with gentle reverence for the self.
I am passionate about honesty, and believe the truth frees you.
Laughter, silliness, mutual respect, enjoying joy in each other.
Love cannot be an illusion.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-oh, writing process- on Metaphor
in my apartment on a dance-the-poetry-within-you day I never know what is going to emerge that day, ever, always a surprise a rough draf...
-
I sit before a large painting I am ready to trash to fret about my feelings towards it. Soon I am slapping paint all over the canvas. ___ ... -
Basquiat at the AGO: An Untitled Portrait When asked about his frequent use of "carbon" (tar, asbestos), Basquiat shot back, ... -
What if relationships are the primary ordering principle? What if the way relationships are ordered clarify, explain, and instruct us on th...
No comments:
Post a Comment