Breathe. Dance. Smile. Love.

By Posted in Music Tagged , , , , Leave a comment

I’m loving these last sweet days of spring, but also truly looking forward to lingering through long summer days in the backyard gardens and patios of suburbia…contemplating the everyday wonder of thisness…and dancing like crazy every chance I get. Best Coast provides a perfectly sun filled summer soundtrack.
Breathe. Dance. Smile. Love.

 
 
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This Is Outside

This gallery contains 9 photos.

  Lock, lock, and unlock. Every door a danger. But beyond, a multitude of voices, an exactitude of each. I listen as they’re calling. Each voice in my own throat. Subtle clear collages blessed with ambiguity. The written note. The campfire. The seed planted. The curled chameleon tale. The dragon. The glistening turquoise egg of it all. […]

Distilling Thisness

By Posted in Embodiment, Ethnographic Surrealism, Poetry, Spirituality, Thisness Tagged , , , , , 2 Comments
 
Since you know a soul cannot be extracted or even quantified by anything like reason, or in these easy hours of starlight clothed with the hum of toads, you discard the charts and sentence stems and bask in the blooming sensuality of elemental radiance. You said, each thing is a thing that is never another thing, but always connected to every and all things. You are your own apparatus of embodied knowing and unknowing. This one and exact specificity. From the corner of your eye, or in what you tell yourself are dreams, the tiniest drops begin to fall. You decide to remember, or maybe imagine, it could be something like what you call real. More than an optical interference of liquid immiscibility. The astonishing essence. The everyday dispersion of color, light, ether, vapor, and heat. 
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This Is Inside

This gallery contains 12 photos.

  And yes, they find discarded husks of locusts in the tall slick grass. And yes, flies of all sizes make of themselves offerings on the altar in the downstairs room. This place, a cell of silence, flame, and smoke. Clinging to the fabric, tiny eyes separate from once alive bodies. The wall, a larval manifestation […]

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This Is Left

This gallery contains 9 photos.

  Always we walked in the whole awful everything of it, teeming with incessant joy. What do we know of patterns and paper? What do we see of the difficulty of awe? What will this time say? Arms, legs, teeth all locked. Words all locked. So and yet and still returning. Pensive and late and blister and rot. Distracted, it […]