Alright, thirteen days between posts is ridiculous, even if I'm suffering from a bruised heart. (Courtesy of Mr. Be Charming and Pursue You Relentlessly and then Silently Decamp to Explore Feelings For Someone Else, grrr. But, he always wanted me to mention him on the blog *innocent smile*)
One for Mr. Bruised my heart: The Flower I think I grow tensions like flowers in a wood where nobody goes.
Each wound is perfect, encloses itself in a tiny imperceptible blossom, making pain.
Pain is a flower like that one, like this one, like that one, like this one. ~Robert Creeley
Black Iris - O'Keefe
One for all of you who understand my sense of humor ;) XXVI Good creatures, do you love your lives And have you ears for sense? Here is a knife like other knives, That cost me eighteen pence.
I need but stick it in my heart And down will come the sky, And earth's foundations will depart And all you folk will die. ~A. E. Housman
Pepper No. 30 - Weston
And some love poems, because I still want to find it... i carry your heart with me i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling) i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart) ~e. e. cummings
Rose and Driftwood - Adams
SOMEWHERE ON THE WAY I wanted to say a lot of things: I wanted to say how often lately Your bright image has wandered through The dark rooms of my mind; I wanted to say how good it is To wake up every morning Knowing that the day contains Something that is you.
I wanted to say a lot of things: I wanted to talk about The changing colours of moments, The silent secret language Of bodies making love. I wanted to say that you Are always only as far from me As thoughts are from thinking.
I wanted to say I love you In fourteen foreign languages But most of all (most Difficult of all) in English.
I wanted to say a lot of things. But they all seem to have lost themselves Somewhere on the way. And now I’m here There’s nothing I can say except Hello, and Yes I’d like some coffee, and What shall we find to talk about Before the night burns out? ~Peter Roche
(I don't know who did this sculpture)
i like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite a new thing. Muscles better and nerves more. i like your body. i like what it does, i like its hows. i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling -firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again kiss, i like kissing this and that of you, i like,, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big Love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you quite so new
Mischief and Repose - Godward
Now, just because I love them so much: Pursuit Each thing I do I rush through so I can do something else. In such a way do the days pass - a blend of stock car racing and the never ending building of a gothic cathedral. Through the windows of my speeding car, I see all that I love falling away: books unread, jokes untold, landscapes unvisited. And why? What treasure do I expect in my future? Rather it is the confusion of childhood loping behind me, the chaos in the mind, the failure chipping away at each success. Glancing over my shoulder I see its shape and so move forward, as someone in the woods at night might hear the sound of approaching feet and stop to listen, then, instead of silence he hears some creature trying to be silent. What else can he do but run? Rushing blindly down the path, stumbling, struck in the face by sticks; the other ever closer, yet not really hurrying or out of breath, teasing its kill. ~Stephen Dobyns
Starry Night over the Rhone at Arlis - van Gogh
Wild Geese You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-- over and over announcing your place in the family of things. ~Mary Oliver
Okay, these are more of the altered manga-esque transformations, this time of two of my favorite guys. First is Billy, who keeps me sane, and saves me from myself over and over. Next is Brian, one of the most amazing people I've ever met.
I admire creativity, curiosity, and confidence. I am the patron saint of Hopeless-but-Not-Stupid Causes. I think people should be nicer to each other in a very general, day-to-day sense.
My friends have described me as crass, a non-offensive singer, original, and too easy to get along with. I have a lot of darkroom experience in Photography that I am trying to translate into the digital realm. I love to read books. I like to be around people who are passionate about things.