Saturday, February 28, 2015

An ode to freeness

Brake my step Pic courtesy -favim.com unbuckle my bones fix my flesh  to the telluric mines blow my heart to the canopy’s wind shower apart all error and lapse raise my hands to the drums and bottles, into the arms of airplane swift magpies and winged –kites. keep my heart slow and soft like sketched  and patterned  cloud  and cloud movemen...

Friday, February 27, 2015

Is it ok to tell that you own my breath?

Kites rise high. They fall. Sometimes they get blown away. They disappear. Kites get lost. We cry when things are lost. We cry when things that we love are lost. All you need is some determination, if you want to find them back.  Things don’t always disappear completely. They leave you something behind. Like kites. They will leave broken strings on the ground.  Or  its tattered  remains and torn sau kola, entangled on a tree or in electricity wires.  I remember how buckets hung next door were destroyed last year....