cooing words
on the roof,
Buddhist chants
the color of
ripe plums.


follow me on twitter: @soHbet_

 

The Basket In My Eggs

i said to her
arms unfurled,
i want to embrace
every sensation
that life offers, until
it’s seared into
my palms



the spice
the air
the music
the poetry
the fangs
the fear
the redeem
the rubbish
the smoke
the fire
the tear
the squirm
the tremble
the tingle
the refrain
the surrender
the rise
the fall
the flow
the salve
the sore
the block
the blur
the anger
the shame
the ripe
the rot
the wither
the bloom
the largess
the drought



i want to
be consumed
in the bonfire
of the imminent
and cease in
freedom

http://wakethetrees.tumblr.com/post/72883629153/and-the-sky-is-trying-to-get-my-attention

wakethetrees:

And the sky is trying to get my attention. Raindrops land on windows. All day long. Exploding. Like a million children knocking at once. “We know you are home. Answer us.” I hide under tables. In closets. Between the soft thighs of my lover. It is always dark there. Quiet. Except during floods….

wakethetrees:

For years I gave my dreams away as though they were dresses I could no longer wear. One bag at a time. Filled to capacity.

I never considered the possibility that I would want them back.

Bianca

Played 703 times

thiswillnotlast:

what love isn’t

It is not a five star stay. It is not compliments and it is never ever flattery. It is fact. It is tough, can be hard
and it is definitely not diamonds.
It is solid. It is not sweet but always nutritious, always herb. always salt. Sometimes grit.
It is now and till the end. It is never a slither, never a little
it is a full serving
it is much…too much and real
never pretty or clean. It stinks, you can smell it coming, it is weight…it is weight and it is too heavy to feel good sometimes
…it is discomfort, it is not what the films say. Only songs
get it right
it is irregular
it is difficult
and always, always
surprising.

Yrsa Daley-Ward

Gardening

trim all the dead
leaves of doubt,
let your roots get
thicker in faith,
free up your boughs
to kiss the firmament

what more evidence
do you need than the
nectar of toil in flowers
that bear fruit?

if all these words
are a ruse, a doorway
to connect, to touch,
million hands of
ourselves, the greater
whole…

then why don’t we
extend our fingertips
and just reach?

jonathancarrollstories:

“I believe in waking up in the middle of the night and packing our bags and leaving our worst selves for our better ones.”
- Leslie Jamison
(Jonathan Carroll)

jonathancarrollstories:

“I believe in waking up in the middle of the night and packing our bags and leaving our worst selves for our better ones.”

- Leslie Jamison

(Jonathan Carroll)

Dear Gawd’, you’ve asked me to hold on but I’m holding others who, most significantly need to see a breakthrough, need to feel an altering of the landscape. All of me is for them and the promise. I may not reach the land but show something that doesn’t still look, feel, taste and pain like Egypt.

Te’ V. Smith Valley Prayer (via tevsmith)

bird calls,
wind chimes,
and frolic of children
this tittering wind,
the king of carnival

chassé turns
on my kitchen floor
the sound
of steaming tea
boiling
and bubbling
i am content
with this life
laughing
inside of me