•March 24, 2015 • Leave a Comment

I’m very bad at goodbyes, I rarely read the ending of the story, I often fail to finish the things I start, So you and I shall just have to love one another forever. Ok? Because I don’t shall never be done with you.

•March 24, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Sometimes I try to write something good, but all the words come out as pretzels, all twisted and brittle.

Writing feels like my most tenuous talent. Not something I can summon, but more like a spark I wait patiently and impatiently for. Scribbling pretzels page to page, waiting for a full fledged meal to come out, something to nourish and satisfy.

What is the goddess of eloquence? The deity of perfect word placement? I will pray to you. Bleed my ink at your alter. I’ll burn my best letters for you.

I would like to say something meaningful. I would like to mean something. I would like someone else to feel a feeling from something I have made. I can not yell very loud. I can not sing. I can only hope to quietly cast the perfect words forth and hope these ordinary words, in such arrangement, form a magic spell.

I would like to catch the precious thoughts before they pop like soap bubbles. Just now, I felt one, a good one, a good idea brush past my forehead, I felt the flutter of its wispy fabric. It is gone now. This is all I have.

cori storb photography

•February 27, 2015 • Leave a Comment


Do you know what the difference between humans and animals is? Animals can sleep anywhere on the earth they please, they just fold their wings and tuck their tails and away they go; but when I try to find a little patch of earth to lay my head, there is inevitably some person with the authority of a flashlight (or an occasional badge) that says, “You can not sleep here.” And me and my teddy bear look forlorn, and it still doesn’t matter.

Oh humans, why have we grabbed all the horizontal surfaces and covered them with flags and fences and concrete? I would like to sleep on this earth but you won’t let me. I cannot think of a less offensive, bothersome act than sleeping – yet we shoo away all the people without beds from this firm ground that no one else was using anyway.

“I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.” here here, Sylvia Plath, I want that too. For everyone who still has a bit of animal in them and dreams their best dreams upon the moss.

•November 17, 2014 • Leave a Comment

There is a slowness, the seems to come with wisdom,

and you grow wiser, slower, larger.

The elephant that never forgets, with its heavy slow footsteps, the blue whale that is never lost with its great falling tail, the red wood trees that never stray, standing so straight strong and true, the big drifting clouds that know to always change, and the strong deliberate mountains that over millions of careful years of reaching upward come to rest in their most glorious state.

•November 17, 2014 • Leave a Comment

Some of the most exquisite dances of my life have been the moments we hold each other – perfectly still – for hours. Feeling our bodies passing the exhale back and forth in perfect synchronized rhythm.

And my mind is clear glass quiet
And my heart is loud, leap leaping higher than the legs ever could.
And our foreheads rest solid and our nose tips sit lightly and our lungs fill each other’s empty spaces and our bellies are soft together and our hips are strong and our thighs make the slightest space for each other while our toes still say ‘closeness’.

•November 17, 2014 • Leave a Comment

Feed me poetry please

Like a baby bird

Speak it directly into my mouth

to mouth

what better food than perfect words

exhaled from a body so perfect

it can keep me –

– surviving on exhales.

•November 15, 2014 • Leave a Comment

I once asked a man,

“What are the good things about humanity?”

He answered with only three things. And later, amended it down to two.

It stunned me into silence that the list could be so short.

But you know, it is not that short, that was his list, and he was a real pessimistic curmudgeon of a grandpa. I could feel his heavy boots. And my, how cold and hard the world becomes when almost everything you see is bad. Yes, there is a lot to be sad about, but there are so many amazing things holding us up!

In the desert one night I thought about that question. And every time I thought of something genuinely good, I lit a tea candle. A little warm light. I was all alone in that profound darkness and quiet. But with every thought, I got a little light that would keep me warm and safe. And there were so many that came out, hundreds, they formed a protective circle around me. I surrounded myself with the good things.

It was a lot better than birthday candles – in which you snuff out a light in the hopes of receiving something. But what if every good thing, that you already have all around you lights a candle that keeps you warm and safe. All you have to do is notice it, and it is there. Holding you up.



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