Monday, June 30, 2008

cellular

long grain cells of wood, washed down by the waves and sand

Saturday, June 14, 2008

into deep

breathe,
feel the air move through your hair
over the plains of your skin
breathe
feel the air that has moved across all else
move across you
breathe
and feel it all course into you
feel it channel through your chest
and swirl in excruciating bliss
as it disperses back into itself

now who are you?

Friday, June 13, 2008

i can has hugz?



it's all i want today.

Monday, June 9, 2008

internal capacity



the journey home, or back to origin
was overwhelming bitter-sweet
filled with tears and laughter
and lifetimes of memories crossing generations.
i spent 3 days in the branches of an old growth tree
open to both the sky and the earth
feeling the sunlight and rains beat down into it.

when a tree grows,
from seed to towering sentinel
it stretches, and swells with life,
and branches to disperse itself.
as it branches, it thickens and hardens,
growing by addition
of new substances outwards
it becomes, in it's oldest extremities,
a conduit for the transmittance of life.

and i am in awe, and filling with life

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Sunday, May 18, 2008

oh gorgeous detritus

plants, organics, organs... deteriorating,
cyclical blossoming organs
sky-bound, overlapping fibrous organs
explode into lavish bronchial arrays
panting with life
booming and thundering silent breath and surge
crowning, splintering,
fibrous expounded collapse

rocks, bones, and teeth in the earth~


there is an idea that all things echo one another in basic form, a theory of chaos... an idea about the mathematical structuring of things within the natural world, unfurling like the tip of a fern, or the shell of nautilus... the branches of a tree, or the tributaries of a river... basic, mathematical, natural forms that echo from the largest mountains to the smallest cellular communities of decomposition in the sapwood of an old growth trunk,

we dive headlong into the open mouths of a fractals

Saturday, May 10, 2008

oceanic woodworking


"are we
like schools of fish
or flocks of birds
flashing scales or feathers
in unison
attuned to life
ignorant of illusion
if so
then hope"

--- C. L.