it is raining!
no, not water
from clouds
but dead leaves
from july trees
scorched by
a brutal heat
too sunburnt
to evergreen
falling, fallen
brittle brown
leafy teardrops
raining down
the dry warm
forlorn face of
mother earth
it is raining!
no, not water
from clouds
but dead leaves
from july trees
scorched by
a brutal heat
too sunburnt
to evergreen
falling, fallen
brittle brown
leafy teardrops
raining down
the dry warm
forlorn face of
mother earth
Don’t trade your life for just an empty hourglass.
Two people who have chemistry evolve quickly to biology.
“If you ever change your mind… you’re not stuck with it. You’ve got a lot of choices. If getting out of bed in the morning is a chore and you’re not smiling on a regular basis, try another choice.”
—Steven D. Woodhull
i am so many people
it’s impossible to be myself
but i can almost always
be at least one of myselves
Grief is historian of the heart.
Every time a champagne bottle pops, a party angel gets its wings.
If your armor against the world is laziness and excuses, you’re not protecting yourself from battle and injury — you’ve trapped yourself inside with them.
Art is when you hear a knocking from your soul — and you answer.
“I have been bent and broken, but — I hope — into a better shape.”
—Charles Dickens (1812–1870), Great Expectations, 1861
the wilderness died
of a broken heart —
from bad decisions and
evil battles of grown men
blackout poetry created from Rafe Martin, Birdwing, 2005
The past falls away in wilted petals,
New things will come, probably nettles.
Aside from new babies, new mothers must be the most beautiful creatures