III: love, scrawl these skies

"A quiet electricity makes you shiver. Tears in your eyes pool from every colour."

Ian William L.

II: love, scrawl these skies

"I am so filled with love and taxes—with this smokescreen of grace. I am these warm hands and throwing curses."

Ian William L.

I: love, scrawl these skies

Reading boy meets boy, thinking of the Doctor and his Grumpy Cat pages, breathing in graffiti—pale—whimsy, collecting hours until I feel Yellowcard in the furthest light, feeling like my favourite kind of ocean.

turn it around

something in this video breaks my heart.

If you're looking for devotion look no further.

white heron rises over blackwater

I wonder what it is that I will accomplish today
If anything can be called that marvelous word. 

It won't be
My kind of work, which is only putting words on a page,
The pencil
Haltingly calling up
The light of the world,
Yet nothing appearing on paper half as bright
As the mockingbird's verbal hilarity
In the still unleafed shrub in the churchyard—
Or the white heron rising over the swamp and the darkness,
His yellow eyes and broad wings wearing
The light of the world in the light of the world—
Ah yes, I see him.
He is exactly the poem I wanted to write. 

Mary Oliver

microwaved angels

I CAN NOT SPEAK. I CAN NOT. I CAN NOT USE LOWERCASE, OR NOT USE APOSTROPHES. [HELLO, HOW CAN WE COMMUNICATE?] I WILL INVITE NEW RULES TONIGHT, BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY OUT: CLOSE MY EYES NAND WISH IN NUMBERS. I WILL FIX MY—CORRECT MY FINGERTIPS LATER. I JUST NEED TO SEE THE LIGHT THROUGH MY TIGHTLY BRUISED EYES. LIKE MICROWAVED ANGELS, AND NEON, FUCKING DEATH, ITS COLD MUSHROOMING STUBBORN SPITTING BEAST, A WANT.

I AM AFRSI AFRAID FOR ME. ONLY B BECAUSE I WON'T BE ABLE TO TURN THIS THESE INTO BANK NOTES. THIS IS AFFLICTION WTIHOUT WITHOUT YOU—YOU NEEED NEED TO BE SEEN OR ELSE.

MILKY VISION STAINS ME EVEN NOW.

I can hear: I love you in the water.

maybe i am hearing you.

I will never write the book and have always dreamed.

I just need to see the light through my own tightly bruising eyes, what are microwaved angels, and the neon spittle of want and death and beast.

the astonishing light

I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being 

Hafiz

 

that sea, the gambler.../bruising calm

a surrendering

You surrender to a lot of things which are not worthy of you. I wish you would surrender to your radiance—your integrity—your beautiful human grace. 

Yogi Bhajan

tuesday, the branches

Tuesday morning filtering through the garden state soundtrack—new light I am in love for.

Ian William L.