•May 31, 2018 • Leave a Comment

favoriteplace

rust

vines

Advertisements

•May 31, 2018 • Leave a Comment
Have you ever passed out? I did today. There’s something strange about it, a tiny rebirth. A reset of the mind that seems to remove all emotional barriers upon waking. The unconscious levy built in the mind for a moment is lost and the hidden stream of feelings may be allowed to run free. I feel newer, more pliable, and more impressionable as though I am made of a fresh gooey dough that has not yet hardened back. Finding a tiny rabbit in the road struck me as a profound miracle and every little bird and leaf and person disarms and moves me.
I passed out when the doctor took some of my blood and my body objected to such a transaction. So now I am sitting by the river. Watching the mosquitoes take little bits of my blood as I sit still – practicing giving it away willingly, practicing letting it go.

•April 24, 2018 • Leave a Comment

whatishappen

•February 16, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Yesterday I sat next to two teenagers. They were both beautiful and suicidal, and seventeen. They were each trying to talk they other one out of what they both wanted to do.

Even in their sadness, they where both taking care of each other the best they could. Sometimes it is easier to take care of everyone else besides yourself. You know yourself better that anyone else but it is still hard to. Why is it so hard to know yourself, when that is the person closest to you, and to not understand where your sad splinters are stuck.

•November 24, 2017 • Leave a Comment

two-worlds-cori-storb

•November 24, 2017 • Leave a Comment

I wonder how many miracles I have witnessed. Billions really. Or maybe just three. It depends how I am feeling I guess.

I think I would like to die in a gentle and revealing way. In a way where I am allowed time to contemplate. I would pass on most of the suffering though, if that is an option, perhaps that is too much to ask for… I would just like a certain amount of slowness so I am allowed my last thoughts – and then one other moment at least to contemplate those last thoughts. Since I only get one chance at it. I hope I should be so lucky.

Can my mind be a vast meadow please – one that I am always excited to go running off into. Something worth exploring.

Art can be like a beacon – if it is true and you really share something deep and difficult. Then the people who are meant to see it will see it and they will want to talk to you. And that is mostly the point isn’t it? For those certain people who understand your cryptic art language of soul to come to you and then you are connected.

•October 27, 2017 • Leave a Comment

lowfire

And there is the slow sweetness.

And here is the true love: the person who holds you.

Who loves every state

I have been trust falling for you and you catch me every day. You’ve never failed me. I’ve never doubted you.

You sew me little patches with rabbits and moons on them and you worry that it is not great enough so you sew in little silver stars. I cover your wall with post it notes of the things I like about you – and the wall needs updating as I always find more things.

And this is love. and it is steady. and it is not dramatic. and the sadness and the distance only make it stronger.

When we hug our noses and foreheads align perfectly, and when we dance we hardly move, we just breathe together, bellies back and forth. Because there couldn’t be a more beautiful dance move than being as close together as possible.

You wear my green pants and I wear your socks.

And you love every state of me, you run your fingers through my hairy legs with gentle love and you burrow your nose into my smelly armpit and inhale and inhale.

 
%d bloggers like this: