Small Things

I explore alone, worlds and words. I write haiku.

“This storm is walking
weather, blows you back
You keep smiling”

I should be packing

But I am clicking keys and looking for ways to spruce up your apartment

there’s a half done pile of laundry by my feet - i never get them sorted out on the same day. i am vaguely thinking of walking the dogs, or taking sunset photographs, but not packing, everything is the same here, to me. 

Panic Stations

Savor that peculiar silence that 
comes with ducking your head below the cut of water

smooth, like approaching waves.

The tide rises up and the roar of the ocean disappears
Think of it as a monster coating the world, all blue,
all thing, an eye raised balefully at the moon gazing back with its cooked fish eye and dead dry seas 

This is a wave, she says as she pushes you down 
This is a wave, she says and she opens her mouth

Swim the same way, hoping somehow to become bigger than whales, steady like tides

Sail ships above the water, cutting through to prepare for war, swim like you’ll ground yourself against the sharp tooth of the reef

beat against rocks with futile fists

Swim past the buoys and the boats, where the water shows off oil spills like gills, the shoreline a smudge of ink

This is the wave, she says. Open your mouth

“Grinding coffee,
Yawning. I have missed most of
this morning”

“The night lizards screech
when you are on the brink
of sleep”

“Mountain path a dream’s
trial, cutting through undergrowth —
remembered only by day”

—   Mt Pulag, 2014 

“Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.”

—   (via because-whynot)

(Source: feellng, via amandapalmer)

“To watch you undo
your love again
Oh, how we will mourn

—   Necessity

“Instead of God,
I tell the trees I may need
just a little help here”