☽THE MOON'S TALE☾
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Thursday, July 24, 2014
photo diary 16
The pastel glossed sky melts in my mouth like cotton candy
and so I try to savor the sweetness of summer
on top of this empty parking lot
where my eyes resembled big pools of brown...
and so maybe my vision was just a blurry prophetic dream
of hazy colors muddled together.
But I'd like to think that in those moments,
the sun glowed a bright orange in the simple way
that I was always told it does.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Saturday, July 12, 2014
time
I can't believe that it's already July and that this is my last year of high school...time is slipping and there just isn't enough time to read all the books I want to read, to meet all the people, to go to all the places and see all the ruins, and there isn't enough time for all the walks in the woods. There isn't enough nights for night drives, for lazy hill days and glowing pools, or for moon praying rituals.
Time is slipping through my clumsy, cool hands and it scares me so. It goes down the dark drain after licking the polished ivory, and where this element of time goes, no one knows. Perhaps it merges into something bigger, like the ocean or maybe it evaporates into fine mist and floats aimlessly among the dense red planets. Then once our marrow are too feeble to carry the burden of life, we too will ascend into space where we become nothing, but also everything...because we are a part of time, which as far as I'm concerned, lasts forever. And this sand clock of mine is already in effect, and if I were to tip it over and stop the grains of fine sand from creating a great mound like the one in my throat, maybe I could lose myself in such a way that I'd love to know.
Time is slipping through my clumsy, cool hands and it scares me so. It goes down the dark drain after licking the polished ivory, and where this element of time goes, no one knows. Perhaps it merges into something bigger, like the ocean or maybe it evaporates into fine mist and floats aimlessly among the dense red planets. Then once our marrow are too feeble to carry the burden of life, we too will ascend into space where we become nothing, but also everything...because we are a part of time, which as far as I'm concerned, lasts forever. And this sand clock of mine is already in effect, and if I were to tip it over and stop the grains of fine sand from creating a great mound like the one in my throat, maybe I could lose myself in such a way that I'd love to know.
Friday, July 11, 2014
song of the siren
"...you can listen here to our singing; for no one else has ever sailed past this place in his black ship until he has listened to the honey-sweet voice that issues from our lips; then goes on, well-pleased, knowing more than ever he did; for we know everything..." -the odyssey
Thursday, July 10, 2014
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