http://bluellipses.org/wordpress Droplets in the Ocean Sat, 24 Apr 2010 07:39:40 +0000 http://backend.userland.com/rss092 en if from a place far away I can reach               out and send http://bluellipses.org/wordpress/?p=44 What circle encircles self And contained within all aspects though I shadow myself with raiment forced outside too And then what room within the room of my self Do elbows fly and bruise with funny not bone Like a tiny mansion all divided or loosely seperated with grand jambs but in any case apportioned. I have lost myself in the hotel of myself Looking out or into rooms to find myself. Or, know the edge edges, not always gentle And between these ... http://bluellipses.org/wordpress/?p=42 The inner self is much like a darkened room. Furniture layed out, in places known, and you walk around, or sometimes stumble. A long forgotten meal, all crumbs and rinds, but for that half unfinished strawberry cake, in the center of the plate. And books once read, lie blurry lined as memory fades. But the most surprising thing, or amongst them, is the ... http://bluellipses.org/wordpress/?p=40 I walk, still following paths, invisible to all but my heart and inner eye shaped of you Stoop to pick upbits and things Place in my pocket Collecting, treasures nowhere to share. Read the signs, looking for petals from flowers she loves me loves me not Hear a thunderstorm See the sun Take tiny steps and watch the little things on the path so complicated ... http://bluellipses.org/wordpress/?p=39 A crop with lots of filters and masks. Just playing. Someone would chastise me. http://bluellipses.org/wordpress/?p=36 Somewhere Between the dark in me and the dark in another is a bridge We cannot see this for our eyes are not adjusted We canot feel it for we are afraid of stumbling falling We do not search for we are afraid of failing. So we sit alone in the dark waiting and shivering never really believing but hoping. Cast the leaves of dead trees about hear the rustle as ... http://bluellipses.org/wordpress/?p=33 I find All the little parts of me strung out on a necklace like death Hand prints and foot impressions, in tracks around her hips. She is the black. I have cried at her feet, and she gently swooped down and bit my neck, freeing me of body. I have lost my soul and wandered ages and cultures until she reeled me ... http://bluellipses.org/wordpress/?p=32 There is a discourse within, of all the valuations of life. Trees and ice cream and cars. People, places, politics. The self, my actions, their consequences. Sometimes, this myself needs review. And this is good. Very good. But the process is stressful. It taxes me. Wears on me. Not that it fails. It succeeds. But where success takes you, when you ... http://bluellipses.org/wordpress/?p=31 http://bluellipses.org/wordpress/?p=26 I look at myself and see only the frailties I see the ways in which I don’t work in this world the parts that are broken, or hanging on hinges rusty, unsecured. But in this arc of a life, there is a beauty which has polished me. Shiny metal, where grit rubs. Angles, constructed so ... http://bluellipses.org/wordpress/?p=23