Sharing creative stories and paths to self-knowledge.
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Letter to Lover
May we wisen up with the wine of scholarship to be students of love. To be a teacher who raises his beloved to new heights that remain ancient with no ruin.
The Invisible Pear Tree
She was stretching under the midday sun as it beamed across the hairs on the nape of her neck. Indigo made a ritual of her life. Waking with the rising sun and resting her billowy curls underneath the moon’s embrace.
Farming The Ocean Floor
Have you ever cried while writing? It is very similar to having a shock wave of emotion crash into you while meditating. After the crash, it is full-blown release. Relief.
Henna Meditations While Embroidering With The Ancients
Henna Meditations Once a month, I lay out a blanket and a sit down to greet the sun on my balcony. I start to massage the henna after it’s overnight marinating session, preparing it for application.
What a man child. With His head in the clouds. Chasing the wild dreams of a purple sky and a golden ocean. You know how children color outside the lines? He’s never submitted to what colors are. He paints the world the way He perceives it. It is never aligned with what you and I see.
It’s 83 degrees right now. Whenever the sun reaches over the edge of the horizon, I collapse a little bit more into my pillow. My cigarettes are never in arm’s length of my bed. So I actually have to scrawl my way to find them underneath the frame and then I’m ready to unambiguously alert my cat that I’m awake. She knows. She always knows when it’s time to eat. Her life is simple. It’s filled with flies that she easily swats and fake mice she takes hostage.
The Portal To The Gaslands
Where am I? I was blushing. I woke up to sweltering humidity. My neck was ringing together beads of sweat. I swiped my fingers across my neck. Searching. Searching for my locket.
Revolution Not Optional
His arms wrapped around her neck. A tangled necklace. I still remember standing there. Helpless. The couch was facing the door. The whole house seemed tangled. Just like those arms around my mother’s neck. She looked straight into his eyes and she was reciting protective verses. Maybe she was reciting departure versus. Her soul was escaping her body through the tiny hole in her throat. It’s always in the eyes.