upon us all

now
i look across this life
under the glowing memory
of days gone by

hanging like a setting horizon upon
an endless turning sea,
austere aquamarines

hanging
like
a kite string
	  slightly slipping ajar
                 from  fingers
                            uncurled

gone in the wind unto
an endless burning sky,
orange-crimson nylon dye

hanging


like smoke rings
always carried
in the breeze,
hanging like sacred smudge

auspicious tiny swirls
hang on the frayed ends of my clothes, little hooks

hanging
like

pictures of a special uncle

hanging
like

soft white coals of
incense

candy of the soul

wandering star don't let the dust fool you,
it's always the view from afar that sees
spectacle in your mess --

but isn't that what the beauty of life is?

the perspective

from here,
behind a telescope lens

you shimmer
and dazzle sweet sprinkles
the kinds that make candy of the soul

glazed window into the heavens
the lens is specked
with colours unseen

peacock flume, your wispy arms scarlet, crimson
ultra violet waltz,
pink pearl cotton
atmosphere

amid your shakeless pirouette
a green only known as life

what would you be on earth i cannot say
only that
you are what the robins and bees
prefer 

Thoughts from the Peanut Gallery

It’s almost half past seven and I just finished dinner. I wonder if it’s the stress and anxiety that come up when I think about my first class, but I’ve been dealing with some intense feelings the last hour. My girlfriend and I broke up in December and it’s as if my snow globe life got a good shaking. I can feel the little voices in the back of my head clear their throats as I enter my Print Futures class, the voices that try to sway my inner volition. Those same voices buzz every so often, and sometimes in the middle of the busiest day, their drone drags me like an undertow. Thankfully, I’ve had lots of support in this transition period, and had plenty of good reads and arms to hold. Part of this emotional and life adjustment involves addressing my feelings. When you can allow yourself to feel (which is hard when you don’t understand what you feel, or if you are even aware that you feel), you allow yourself to grow. Your body and subconscious are sponges that collect everything that passes through you: you are what you eat, but you are also what you think, feel, and do. To let yourself feel is to let the feeling drift in and out of your consciousness like a cloud. Even the lightest clouds become rain, but sometimes the darkest clouds produce the brightest rainbows. Life is not the black or the white or the grey or the green, etc. Life is the red and blue and yellow, the colours that birth more colour. It is the storm and it is the rainbow together. To let yourself feel is to realize you are a storm – a bunch of different clouds of potential. Storms keep the trees growing, and the night beautiful.