diane ackerman

as a society we are embarrassed by love. we treat it as if it were an obscenity. we reluctantly admit to it. even saying the word makes us stumble and blush... love is the most important thing in our lives, a passion for which we would fight or die, and yet we're reluctant to linger over its names. without a supple vocabulary, we can't even talk or think about it directly.

as time passes I can't seem to keep the story straight the line has been crossed so many times I am unsure it ever really existed I think what it all really came down to was the unknown and yet it was of rediscovery the whole coming of age story is really just one of a person returning to and although it may seem some sort of an unusual way around just saying it as it is I am fairly certain I've known it all along

blueberry pine

I'd settle for cummerbunds and mismatched silver
peaches fit in your pocket as you
try to keep your face unmoved


not our mothers
yet seeing their point of view

afraid to do more than pay the rent

till its gone
and its okay
to just do as you will

its like all of a sudden
no one cares any more
and its so good

to dye in the grain

a kamikaze ideal built on paper thin flack
don't make the music sweeter, honey
just makes it harder to come back

suzann gage

cotton panty plath

Edvard Munch, Woman in Three Stages, 1899

my anima