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“For Hans Carossa”

English: Bhairavi Yantra

English: Bhairavi Yantra (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Losing also is ours; and even forgetting

has a shape in the permanent realm of mutation.

Things we’ve let go of circle; and though we are rarely a center

of these circles; they trace around us the unbroken figure.

-by Rainer Maria Rilke



i nursed her all afternoon

into dusk.

lily-colored skies unfolding behind

a crowd of trees and silver music spinning

the ocean’s pulse.

milk dripped from moons and stars

through paths that branched down my chest.

she drank sweet balm

dusk into night and

I dreamt that she rose from

her breath into light

dancing the horizon’s edge

gathering the earth like

liquid in her lips

moist as a seed.


a wall on lee street

a wall on lee street



Coyote (Photo credit: Stephen J Pollard)


coyote was stuck in the median of highway 91, facing north.

he stood still

his disheveled fur blowing backwards with the wind of passing cars.

I can’t get the sight out of my head

the confused sorrow of a majestic beast lost against our arrogant creations:

the defeated howl of beauty being mocked.




headless woman

headless woman

…who lives (lived) in a parisian museum.


“Yet for all his eloquence, there was something that pestered Gorgias throughout his life. In spite of his inimitable ability to domesticate language so that even the most elusive of concepts would play like docile animals at his every command, he was frustrated by the fact that even a wordsmith such as he couldn’t effectively communicate his innermost experiences to another listener in a way that perfectly reflected his private reality. Dressed up in language and filtered through another person’s brain, one’s subjective experiences are inevitably transfigured into a wholly different thing, so much so that Gorgias felt it fair to say that the speaker’s mind can never truly be known. Thoughts said aloud are mutant by nature. No matter how expertly one plumbs the depths of subjective understanding, Gorgias realized to his horror, or how artistically rendered and devastatingly precise language may be, truth still falls on ears that hear something altogether different from what exists in reality.”   -p.10-11, “The Belief Instinct” by Jesse Bering

Why do I (or we? i think ‘we’) long to know others and be known by others? Is that why I created this blog? And I’m thinking, even the fact that I have a blog seems so unlike me- in a way. I mean, it seems like something I know that I would do but… like something other people would be surprised by. And my husband WAS surprised- very surprised- when I told him I created a blog. I told him I surprised myself. And I did surprise myself… But I also know that this is something I would definitely do (and finally did)… But why? Why did I do it? I told myself that this is a space for me to share beautiful quotes and poems and pictures- just a place to share beauty, or pieces of myself. But I realize now that it’s liberating and exciting to make it more personal- to make myself more vulnerable- to open myself to judgment, even though that seems exhausting right now. And why do I want to make myself vulnerable if that could lead to negative feedback, and then that could lead to more insecurity- more insecurity than I already experience? I don’t know… Maybe because it’s fun… exciting… and because it’s so amazing to connect with other people in such an honest, intimate way, especially people I don’t even know- an unknown audience, people who have never seen me, may never see me, etc. It feels… like my world expands… It feels like when I was in college and I’d come back to my dorm room after getting drunk at a party and I’d write an enormously long email (usually to my most current crush) about my deepest thoughts and desires, because life felt alive and real and free… and it seemed so annoying how people put on such thick masks and I didn’t want to live like that and I only seemed to have the courage to not live like that when I was drunk and I haven’t felt that feeling for awhile…

Anyways, if you read this: thanks for reading it. Reallyreally. Thanks.

from “Words from a Totem Animal”

“My eyes are waiting for me

in the dusk

they are still closed

they have been waiting a long time

and I am feeling my way toward them”

W.S. Merwin