To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, and hurry never. -William Henry Channing

channa

back in colorado after a weekend at home trying to thread the last folds of fabric together that my sister still has to give. funny that her whole life she has offered them to me and only now that she has gathered them all up in godliness one by one and bundled them, cupped in her golden hands, lifted skyward, do I feel like pulling at her covered elbows. bring them down bring them closer to me I want to plead but she is only tethered to me in this life and (by the purity in her gaze) we have both understood that her many lives have already been offered away to the infinite, the seeing one, and the sturdy men with heads bent, and to weddings where women dance in secret joy, their braids not whipping behind them but covered by bright scarves, and in many ways to solitude, and yet in other ways to the only community she has ever craved.


I acknowledge the hugeness of her journey and hope there is room beside her (that beautiful spirit) still.

"I suppose in my mind it always goes smoother" she said. "I can't even hear my footsteps fall with every step, I just glide along." There was a simple sense of pleasure she plucked from the strands that had separated her from you. No more of that quiet longing or incessant wondering. It wasn't in the cards she wants to tell you  somehow you traipsed out of her heart with the same gentle grace that you eased yourself in. One day you were there with her and then you were not and she felt nothing in between the folds of then and now.... a little lighthearted, sure, but she had been waiting to feel lighter for such a long time now...

once in a blue moon

If you know me well, then you know how serious I am about lunar cycles...and you could imagine how giddy I'm feeling with tomorrow's Aquarian blue moon looming ahead. A blue moon is a rare occurrence and, seeing as I'm so turned on to the rarities of the occult these days, I want to share this knowledge with you. The blue moon occurs when a full moon occurs twice in a single solar month- the second of those moons is the blue moon, and with it comes an auspicious power. Even if you don't normally let the luminous energies sway you, take some time tomorrow to sweep away with nimbleness whatever it may be that is not serving you.....





believe in whatever you want, I believe in the stars.

view from my window

she was an island

when the banjo picked up she lifted her heels arched her back and pretended she was the wind. It blew her from belly-up to the bar, where she got one more vodka cranberry and waltzed away. She never left like a whisper, she stormed through like stinging sand. She was an island, and welcomed all to swim up beside her and try make waves upon the shore. But she could dance like the wind and so she knew the secret of transition, and thus nothing could ever pull her. Tides eddied amongst her and she was tickled. But never shaken.

“shes the most gentle Taurus ive ever seen” he thought to himself one cloudy Saturday. He hadn’t slept, it still felt like Friday, like the cusp of something new. Sitting in the passenger seat of her car she bit his ear and then waltzed into the drugstore. She knew he was watching. a yoga mat rolled up under his feet, a size 409 burton board from last year, a can of gingerale. New music she left blaring for him. New subtleties he hoped would only be the first. And a new twinge of excitement that started in his left heel and spread up to the whisper muscles of his throat. Yet something smelled so familiar…

Solanum lycopersicum

I woke with heavy bones and a fear dream imprinted in the bind of my hips; a tightness

But all was forgotten when I noticed the sunbursts of tomatoes in the dirt, some I dug out from their mounds, some I rolled between my fingers

Some time in the night they had escaped the encompassing grasp of the vine, heavy with sugars they were released- dropping like the secret eyelids of the weary