Tag Archives: love

Into the Blue

I have been scratching at air since I was a child, and have had the good fortune of feeling into words that have fallen out of thin blue nowhere– And these words I have gathered, or to put it more … Continue reading

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The Choice is Yours, or, Ch-Ch-Changes

Make no mistake about it— We are, collectively, at a crossroads, one which clearly, sharply, and without suffering lightly any more of the same ol same ol bullshit is asking us as individuals— Are you going to remain in blame, … Continue reading

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Night and Day

In the fasting age of the world’s lengthy night, hunger for reclamation projects, and restoration of citing visions long overdue– all is stilled to know the suture of light, moving quietly across tenderest stitches, upon which symmetry is duly derived … Continue reading

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Love Is

I miss you already, the sun-kissed daisy whispered to the migrant flake of snow, which clung like a hopeful bead to the daisy’s delicate petal before dying a lover’s death and melting.

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Unmade

Rumpled, with a sense of grave toil, and casual slips of crucial error– Was this what love meant, or did? Could that be all? The woman settled into the shape of her day, and pined for something remote and unspecified, … Continue reading

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Rising

Dreams, undeferred, coupled with Hope, that thing unfettered, to keep us company and warm our solitude, as we stumble bravely through a long night’s journey into the bated gospel of days rising to claim us.

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Butterfly, in Black and White

Yesterday, before the fist-prints made their way onto the walls of the gallery as a show of solidarity, there was a moment, one of those small simple yet powerful moments which are easily dismissed or overlooked. Me, and my partner, … Continue reading

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Touch

On the day that grace re-entered the atmosphere, there was a hush, a sentient quilt of true silence, that covered the pooling plague of static which had made for ill communication, and everyone feelized deeply the limitless scope and range … Continue reading

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Starstuff

Mariko was a photographer of stars. It feels funny to put it that way. It sounds as if she photographed celebrities.She only took photos of stars in the night sky.  She said the stars were her real home and that’s … Continue reading

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Mariko

I knew from the beginning that Mariko was haunted, but there was nothing I could do about it. My only choice was to love her, and until the very end. I have five photographs left of Mariko. I burned all … Continue reading

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