Less is more.

There is only this moment.

But I remember dreaming… Etc.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then ’tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses’ heads
Were toward eternity.

Unsaid or said, something wicked this way comes. Interesting.

blue tells me I’m going soft.

in other areas there are tightrope walks and an abundance of hope. Damn my clumsy toes.

his lying fingers
late night hearts and hopeful teeth
his clumsy toes.

Dreaming of a very friendly friday, and next week this time.
Oh Next week this time.
Sweet sweet time.

Slothful finger tips are moving out to replace
a candy kaleidescope of stained glass raven feathers
sore from old battle letters stitched together
or apart.

I am not entirely a fan of making sense.

Sipping theraflu
remember soft moments
soft hands and giggles

Even cheetahs can get kisses from small deer.

This is love.

A surprisingly busy monday.
Looking forward to being lazy tonight.

Catching Lightning Bugs,
Flaking off dried soap scum,
remember last night?

too much hiku.

There are non-euclidean moments at the corners of his eyes,
and a case of elder berry wine.

Friday, finally.

Rawr.