Spiritus

The root of "inspiration" is the the Latin word for wind, spiritus, which means "breath" and "soul".
Inspiration is to breathe life into the soul.

(The Broadview Anthology of British Literature)

Tintern Abbey

Everything that I have been thinking and wondering and wishing and questioning and hoping lately is in this poem.

i'm doing this

To simulate the sensation of a shower in summer

Make the water really hot.
As your shower progresses, make it hotter. Until the cascade turns your skin red.
Now switch to cool water.

So refreshing. Like washing summer from your pores.

One of These Days

I am going to get Rambo a sister, and I will call her Cymbaline. Cymba.
Or a brother, Floyd.

Driving tonight

It looked like someone dragged a paintbrush across the sky.

Guardian of the Infinite Abyss

Robert Moses Joyce
wowowowowowowow

Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying

Can you imagine a world where everyone speaks in Pink Floyd lyrics?

The Corner

The Good Things

You love the smell of rain. And the sound. It reminds you of brevity.
Wearing blankets, you find warmth.

Outside, reflections in the wet road.

Alison Scarpulla

I suspect you know something the rest of us don't

Google Spiral Jetty

The man wanted to make an island of broken glass. He wanted to dump glass where it would disintegrate into organic sand.

Communication

"My father and I have pillows behind our backs. The television is on but we talk without looking at each other. It is better this way, easier for my father to find words, which interrupt his breath like commercials."

-E. Ethelbert Miller, Changing the Channel

Woodland Creatures

I am smitten with these enchanting photos by photographer Aëla Labbé, in which she captures the magic of childhood. She paints a dream, yet in every photo there is the trace of melancholy.

Wishful Thinking

a large dark car, very beautiful, is tucked away in the garage
mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine
mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine
mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine
mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine
mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine

in the middle of the road in the august heat

In the middle of the road in the August heat I met her. It was the kind of afternoon in summer when everything seems to hang limply in the thick air, rendering all creatures motionless and imperceptible through the mist of their own gluttonous breathing. I remember because I thought it fitting the languid way that her dress swam around her kneecaps, as if somebody had pressed rewind and the fabric drifted apart from her skin in slow motion.

all i have to do is dream, dream, dream

"Our dreams prove that to imagine--to dream about things that have not happened--is among mankind's deepest needs."

-Milan Kundera

How can anyone say that dreaming and imagination are not important? We must always make time to dream and imagine.

The part of the brain that is active when we imagine color, form, and motion is the same part that is active when we see imagery as it exists before us, and, "in dreaming, the same [brain] regions are active as for waking vision, or hearing, or movements of the limbs" (Richard L. Gregory, "Eye and Brain" pp. 81-82).

Our own anatomy does not discriminate. We would not dream if in doing so we didn't gain something, even if what we gain is simply a grasp on our sanity.

You Do Something To Me

Sunday

image source: sauletekiais on flickr; another photo by her here

teach me

to speak in melody
or maybe this summer I will teach myself

just another of those things that perplex me

There are so many beautiful people on this earth, so many beautiful girls with beautiful souls. I don't blame some guys for behaving like kids in a candy store, unable to settle with just one. But at the same time, when you have such a person in front of you, how can you want to leave?

Embryo

Magnetic

That feeling of passion that we get when listening to certain songs is a result of recognition--the merger of the soul that the musician pours into his record with that of the listener. It makes perfect sense then why music is so powerful. It is human connection.

Three Times the Charm

Today is International Women's Day and, to celebrate, here are three amazing ladies whose style inspires me.

Isabel Lucas

Ruby Aldridge

Keira Knightley

collages by me

i think hope

I've been consumed lately with a thirst for real. I gasp for it like a fish gasps for water. I want for it to roll over my pores so I can breathe. And I don't know what it means exactly but I know that there isn't enough of it. Instead it seems that real is a condition that isolates and makes one an outsider in a society based on appearances. Have you felt this silent tragedy in the every day? People caring too much about the wrong things and not nearly enough about the right ones. It's like gravity has been overthrown and everybody's priorities have gotten all mixed up. The formalities, the judgment; the pretension, the artificiality. Popularity. Money. Status. What does any of it matter? Airs. What is the need for them? The only air I believe in is the nature that sustains us.

"I like a look of Agony,
Because I know it's true"
-Emily Dickinson

But when I plug my ears with melodies that have soul, that resurrect pain once felt, I know it exists. It exists in the people that I surround myself with. It exists in art. In words. In silence.

I just want more of it. More smiles. Real smiles. Real laughter. I want Pink Floyd to ring through everyone's hearts. "Strangers passing in the street, by chance two separate glances meet, and I am you and what I see is me." Yes, in the street I want that hey stranger, we are one and the same. Want to see the message placating the features of the passersby.

People either laugh at hippies, or try to dress like them, but it is the truths in the original hippie philosophies that should be reinstated. I still believe in the dream.

"Yes, if you're looking for infinity, just close your eyes!"
-Milan Kundera

why friends are beautiful

a miscellaneous number of minutes ago i felt like stifled grass, and now i feel like crystal

it's a shame

you can't hide from something like a headache, or any pain that consumes you. you can't detach yourself from it, so instead you walk around in the cage wrought by your own chemistry

and im feeling a bit like earth under concrete, stifled grass. want to stretch out towards the sun