Whispered In The Wind

Whispered In The Wind
Just a fairy blowing in the wind, singing tales to the west wind

Monday, March 16, 2015

In Striving

Find one thing to fall in love with today
as if it was that simple, that sweet
hold it in words
and in the striving it will be enough
in striving to do justice to the light on the mountains
the cold smell and shiver of wind
the gentle upturn of a stranger’s smile
it will be enough
fall in love with somebody or something today
and hold it with words
with your words and your words alone
hold it gently with adjectives and ink
hold it with your words and your words alone

As if it were that simple, that sweet. 









Thursday, March 12, 2015

Crisis and Reclaim

There are a million ideas I’ve been playing with, constant state of crisis and reclaim. I’m collecting wreckage and garbage and good, good books. I am picking up bits of stone, adding to others sea glass collections. I am playing with words and coming with ideas that explode and fizzle, and steam. There are all sorts of theatrics here, I’m building a regular theatre workshop. Maybe a candy store, stocked with the strawberry drops and caramels I’ve taken from the little bowls in front of restaurants. 

I am bursting. I just want to curl up with my stuffed seahorse and stare up at the ceiling, with the ugly light. I am a lukewarm fanatic, a quiet radical, a loud shout and burn and scream. My heart is pumping venom, my eyes are red. I am between sheets and over beds and under covers. I am of hot breath and sweat.

I spend times in lavender fields and bury my face in the fur of canines. I have puppy hands. I am spent. I am renewed. I am alive. I am comatose. I am of contradictions and declarative statements. I avoid semi colons like the plague. I use spell check and I have forgotten how to spell. I write stupid comments on posters in class and I buy Canadian things with American cash.


I swell up when I hear the word Israel and I call my mother every day. I write feminist statements and wear too much makeup. I am rising with the sun and sleeping with the moon. I am fire and ice. I am cliche and original. I am on the verge of something, on the verge of absolutely nothing at all. There are a million ideas I’ve been playing with, constant state of crisis and reclaim.




"I want warm summer nights, to lie in a hammock, staring at the stars, telling you stories. "

"I want warm summer nights, to lie in a hammock, staring at the stars, telling you stories. "
"When asked not to make waves, I just smiled and said, don't worry this is just a ripple"