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the edge

the line, the tightrope, the razor’s edge. whatever you call it, we’re all walking it. between hopefulness and the absurd, confidence and arrogance, compassion and self-righteousness, freedom and the ego, awareness and judgment. most of the time i can’t even tell which side i’m on. or if there are even sides? or lines? and if…

in other words // hope

“i’m soft, i dream too. i let myself dream… it could happen. i’m ready. i’ve watched snails climb over ten foot walls and vanish.” -bukowski, “on the continent” the undisciplined tongue blogbukowskicoloradodenverdreamsgoalshopenaturephotographypoetryquoteswomenwriting

the hunger

fierce is the longing for my home place, an intangible ache marrow-deep. shaped by her fields and her bayous, her mysteries and misfits and beasts. borne of her soil, married to her seasons, my rhythms shift and change in her absence. her likeness haunts me, ablaze in the kaleidoscope of colors at sundown or the song…

freedom

i’ve always marveled at birds on a wire. envious how they float just above this rational world. do they mourn our cluttered lives? are they saddened by our cages? outraged at our tail-chasing? the undisciplined tongue birdsblogcoloradodenverfreedommile high citynaturephotographypoetrytruthwomenwriting

light in the heart

do i alone dream of being luminous? vibrant and tender and open to the richest depths. with no purpose save for radiating beauty and a quiet, effortless grace that offers a brief respite from the crowded mess. unearthing things and unfolding them softly into the world. the undiscovered regions and the hopes and fears that petrify. no…

because of bukowski

i got mad at a man in a wheelchair today. and i was everything i despise, and everything i never want anyone else to see. dark side out. it’s there, and i walk with it some times. do you? it’s all any of us wants isn’t it?  to know we’re not alone? to have a…