sorry bunny

sorry bunny

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

"every night i just die
every morning i fall in love"
- mel ferrer

What an interesting adventure I am embarking on. Bark ing. On. This quiet sun has a moon. This single story is weaving. There are wonders to be had. Pyramids to ride.


 feeling of work and writhing

Monday, April 23, 2012

patterns emerged silent

it's really hard to not be afraid. when everyone becomes my mother and my father. when how many years can it take. to have the key to your own body. when your body expands and contracts, is your house, your friends, the spaces you inhabit, the transfer of energy you crossover to others, and when? is it time to relinquish doubt. when you're afraid it'll put some fire of passion out.. or you'll be abandoned. spatially by your father (who is much like a neighbor), emotionally by your mother (who is much like a familiar face), and spiritually by your husband (and any subsequent attraction).
it's really hard to remember thatw hen i see fear in your eyes of me, i am seeing the fear you have of yourself, i am seeing the fear i have of myself, and we complete the circle.
new circle. old rythm. still circles. new circle. stillness. might be different.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

broken words, water

"all my leaves are golden brown
and when they fall they make a sound
a silver sparkle in the air
what once was lost was never there

all my leaves are golden brown
and when they crack they make a sound
words are broken never spoken
in the air they flash and flare

all my leaves are golden brown
and when they shatter on the ground
a simple cover through the air
half waking to the moment there

all broken battered words are shattered
cower in the still deep writher

allmy leaves are golden bornw and as they fall they hit the ground
all single layered in their glowing
heaven sent and half is showing
waver as if flayed like water
mix'd to a diluted other

alll my leaves are golden brown and when they fail they slit the ground
and open a gape cloud and shiver
i was once and not delivered

held by breath and bone as matter
underground a sweeping cavern

all my leaves are glden brown and as they crumble plated out
they reverb in the cloudy air
and collect all the joy round there

all my leaves are golden brown and when they follow hear a sound
such cooling sense they sliver wander
we were gone and now discovered