The Analog Nature of Planes

You look so strange as a continuous wave.

Reaching and sweeping.

The valleys were our all night diner and you are up in the air.

IMG_2034.JPG
Don’t you know about wait and see. Don’t you know these things take time and all the rest of the clichés. I wanted to show you life as a full object and not the dispensation of memory. Don’t medicate me, but I wanted the momentary beauties to approach infinity…

It can’t be that bad. And any other cliché.

image 4

Let me be specific. I am in literal hell while you run a marathon through the pathos of your past.  I spoke with the devil, his proximity not at all coincidence. He let me in on it. Regret is his irony, and distraction his imitation of beauty.

Advertisements

Deconstructing what we already hold true

I’ve been working on staying current, and it’s resulted in updating my etsy and my blog. Also, reformatting, and reconsidering the way I once said things, and how I want them to mean now

.IMG_1033

The era of the love letter gave way to this: a tip, not a throw, back. Anticipate the absence of show; A hidden timing that isn’t private. Turpid and teflon: the language of intimacy is a crime without reprehension. 

 

Blank and Beautiful: A Library of Human Dynamics, Immutable

   
        If each of us is a book, our pages are perforated and magnetic and could be blank for all their ephemeral accuracy. Though we are sequential beings, our narratives are not linear. Memory is written on holographic stationary, recounting an ambience of history, physics, and expectation. We agree to coalesce by using every day and ordinary expressions, identifying patterns, telling time, and working around the weather. But the blindingly beautiful weight of our potential is hidden in the archives of our library of human dynamics. The truth is immutably infinite, and we function as reflective tricks of this light. I expect to spend my entire life growing acquainted to living things.
                        
                       

Safe Travels: A Ritual for Those Who Love

A ritual celebrating the journey of love bonded in the ceremony of marriage.
Here is a ritual for your journey.
Take it literally; the time for reflection and the figurative is in the future.
1. Place the butterfly in folded hands of prayer until the wings
can be spread across the land you leave behind.
2. Make a wish in a body of water that’s new to you both, casting the tokens far or close (as long as they stay behind with any remaining apprehensions)
 3. In the final dark before your arrival, scatter glitter like ashes and light your candles, so each reflection of light on gold manifests a glimmer of creativity in your future together
 

Here’s A Charm

Made in the fashion of folk magic;
A passport for the tourism of celebration.
May your quest to enjoy every moment last…
From now on

The chain is made from hand crocheted, corrugated, gold linen thread.
         
The charm is made from an appropriated gem pin, embellished with three feather charms that came from the flea market held at the Florida fair grounds. The necklace is a birthday present.

Sleeping the Whole Time, a Mummy May awake

And Wish to be Surrounded by That Which is Familiar

you are the faint smell of thistle and shade; i will wash your skin in the unrecorded depths of the sinkhole beside the asylum

i always thought something without a heart was living there, beating the other species at their own game
last night i dreamed of you in the seat next to me
and it wasn’t relief or shame that i felt, giving you a second chance

An Alteration to Create a Safe Place to Store Altars:

This is a small project I took on, to alter a couple things I found, for a young girl. I was drawn to buy these two things, without a specific purpose for them in mind, and it turns out they complement each other well in the function of leaf collecting. Leaf collecting is the main interest of the girl who is also a keeper of collections, and from what I am told, keeps them in the form of altars. New minds creating their own classification systems inspires me.