You Don't Know What Love I

but you know how to raise it in me

like a dead girl winched up from a river. How to

wash off the sludge, the stench of our past.

How to start clean. This love even sits up

and blinks; amazed, she takes a few shaky steps.
Any day now she'll try to eat solid food. She'll want
to get into a fast car, one low to the ground, and drive
to some cinderblock shithole in the desert
where she can drink and get sick and then
dance in nothing but her underwear. You know
where she's headed, you know she'll wake up
with an ache she can't locate and no money
and a terrible thirst. So to hell
with your warm hands sliding inside my shirt
and your tongue down my throat
like an oxygen tube. Cover me
in black plastic. Let the mourners through.

i believe in whirs

Where Childhood Went

The teeth sold to fairies
are tombstones in the graveyard of the fireflies.

By their cold caught light
you can make out the big house submerged

in the backyard creek,
thought-minnows spinning in motes in the attic.

The lovely young parents, so long preserved,
are showing signs of rot;

the kitten named Princess, signs
of invisibility. But look, the old dolls

are doing well; they smile and smile.
And the witch? Darling,

t h e w i t c h w a s r e a l.

-kim addonizzio

willing

I feel myself losing innocence
   by being alive
   for having eyes
   a mind
it was never a blank slate
   a white canvas takes many colors to make it so
I was perhaps never innocent
   even out of the womb
but part of me felt connected to the purity
   part of me still does
an innocent emergence
   from the oneness
or perhaps a carefully-made conscious decision
   perhaps I chose my birth date
   my parents & family & community
   beforehand
   before it was so to me now
And now I find myself
   in alignment with destiny
I wonder how I got here
   where am I going?
   I ask
   the answer unfolds through experience
   Destiny
Innocence is a miracle
   perhaps real only through limited perspective
   how one views a child's mind
   Is a child's mind innocent?
I feel like I am slowly losing innocence
   slowly steadily surely
   purity seeps out through my pores as I breath
   where is it going?
   what am I taking in?
   what do I gain if I agree to lose the clear surface?
I'm not sure what I'm looking for
   but I know that I'm willing to make the sacrifice

silent night

from city sky rise to forest cottage
nights sound a lot different around here
I can't get enough of the silence
though it's not as silent as it first seemed
there's always a rhythm
tonight it's crickets
sometimes it's the wind
the rain is my favorite nightsong
sometimes the black feral cat is in heat
her shrieks echo in the woods all night

tonight I marvel at not so much what I hear
but what I hear not
I love that I hear no cars
no sirens
no people
no static from the dirty electricity

the darkness scared me at first
I've never lived anywhere without street lights
but it's not actually pitch black, like it first seemed
there's a glow, even in the darkest of new moons
I love forest nightglow as the moon grows full
I see not buildings but redwood silhouette

Stars
vast deep dark rhythmic universe
dancing around me
and within me
it's so peaceful out here
my inner chaos merges with the cosmos
my breath aligns with the chirping
night is for sleep
but I like to stay awake in this dreamland

The Special Birthday

Tis the sunny season of births & rebirths,
firstborns & fresh starts.

Happy Special Birthday, Kira!

. .. . . a n g e l. o n. e a r t h. . .. . .

Affirmations * good reminders

* It feels reeeally good to say them OUT LOUD <

Flesh

Papercutz - Lylac (Helios Remix) from Keith Kenniff

Urban Cabin Arts Collective

A Crafting Conference 

December 2009

Natural Blush

On a sunny Spring day,
a fresh breeze brushes flower-filled trees

Delicate pink petals fly all around you
in subtle swirls across the crisp air

& descend to the concrete stairs
to rest in peace there.

These little bells are silent.
Their beauty speaks for itself.

She is a gift to all.

the wind is movement

Dustin Shepard, filmmaker from Dustin Shepard on Vimeo.

the sun is nourishing growth

the stream is cleansing our paths

the seeds are spouting toward the light

and the buds are in bloom

Her moment glances toward the purpose of being 
and a layer of time is shed forth unto the earth 
becoming part of the soil that nourishes her 
forward thriving momentum in daily ritual~

The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

Blossoming

Orchid flower / timelapse from munich timelapse on Vimeo.

Eremurus flower / timelapse from munich timelapse on Vimeo.

Iris blooming / timelapse from munich timelapse on Vimeo.

Ornithogalum blossom one after the other / timelapse from munich timelapse on Vimeo.

Beauty

growing up, I used to pray to God to make my skin white.

I used to dream of blue eyes and tall legs.

It's time, finally, to put these sad thoughts behind me.

I don't blame society, I don't blame the media.

It's no one's fault that in my days of innocence I thought I was ugly and unwanted.

But I only can give credit to myself and the Goddess in knowing I must embrace the beauty in who I really am.

I must shed off these lifelong layers of fear, of protection, of hatred towards myself, to become one with the spirit and the beauty that is and can only be me.

I am learning to love who I really am... my olive skin, my petite frame ... I am not a porcelain doll, and I never will be... I will never be a classique beauty... but I am dark, wild, and I am free...

You Can't Have It All
by Barbara Ras

But you can have the fig tree and its fat leaves like clown hands
gloved with green. You can have the touch of a single eleven-year-old finger
on your cheek, waking you at one a.m. to say the hamster is back.
You can have the purr of the cat and the soulful look
of the black dog, the look that says, If I could I would bite
every sorrow until it fled, and when it is August,
you can have it August and abundantly so. You can have love,
though often it will be mysterious, like the white foam
that bubbles up at the top of the bean pot over the red kidneys
until you realize foam's twin is blood.
You can have the skin at the center between a man's legs,
so solid, so doll-like. You can have the life of the mind,
glowing occasionally in priestly vestments, never admitting pettiness,
never stooping to bribe the sullen guard who'll tell you
all roads narrow at the border.
You can speak a foreign language, sometimes,
and it can mean something. You can visit the marker on the grave
where your father wept openly. You can't bring back the dead,
but you can have the words forgive and forget hold hands
as if they meant to spend a lifetime together. And you can be grateful
for makeup, the way it kisses your face, half spice, half amnesia, grateful
for Mozart, his many notes racing one another towards joy, for towels
sucking up the drops on your clean skin, and for deeper thirsts,
for passion fruit, for saliva. You can have the dream,
the dream of Egypt, the horses of Egypt and you riding in the hot sand.
You can have your grandfather sitting on the side of your bed,
at least for a while, you can have clouds and letters, the leaping
of distances, and Indian food with yellow sauce like sunrise.
You can't count on grace to pick you out of a crowd
but here is your friend to teach you how to high jump,
how to throw yourself over the bar, backwards,
until you learn about love, about sweet surrender,
and here are periwinkles, buses that kneel, farms in the mind
as real as Africa. And when adulthood fails you,
you can still summon the memory of the black swan on the pond
of your childhood, the rye bread with peanut butter and bananas
your grandmother gave you while the rest of the family slept.
There is the voice you can still summon at will, like your mother's,
it will always whisper, you can't have it all,
but there is this.

extracurricular activity

Berkeley Marina

hallo & rising. . .

. . . Her mere presence a miraculous gift * * *

i see Her in everything

am I dreaming?

Destino from only one on Vimeo.

Started in 1954
Released in 2003
A collaboration between Walt Disney & Salvador Dali

Beautiful Bitch

This is one bitch you'll never mind sharing your bed with.

Got to have Kaya now. . .

K  a  y  a  !

K  a  y  a  !

natural curves

"flying in an upward spiral towards the light like a dove in flight"

the crystal lady of berkeley california

Where Childhood Went

The teeth sold to fairies
are tombstones in the graveyard of the fireflies.

By their cold caught light
you can make out the big house submerged

in the backyard creek,
thought-minnows spinning in motes in the attic.

The lovely young parents, so long preserved,
are showing signs of rot;

the kitten named Princess, signs
of invisibility. But look, the old dolls

are doing well; they smile and smile.
And the witch? Darling, the witch was real.

-kim addonizio

A very special day

featured earrings : Dream Chargers, by Presence™

    . .     23    . . .

Current Situation : Listen to Your Heart
Expectations : Talk Shop (#17)
Hidden Influences : Ask Your Spirit Helpers
Advice : Vibe Check
Outcome :  Feed Your Spirit

transformation

 

  

  

 

"livin it up being young and beautiful in enchantment!"

"i LOVE that earthy fairy hippi wonderness. . .
i have to settle for cosmopolitan sheek with funky fresh alternative aspirations"


~ Eutimia

eye of flesh eye of mind eye of spirit

________r e s p e c t________

artwork: Audrey Kawasaki