I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
(This is a part of the poem “The Summer Day” with won the Pulitzer Prize in 1984)
Below is a collection of my poems & art that inspires me.
I danced a little out of step at seven am and thought a little off beat at seven o two.
At thirty past seven I miss placed my words and just after nine I found myself reading from yesterday’s story.
By noon I could no longer hear a beat.
I pressed pause at seven minutes past twelve and watched the inhale of two hours pass.
Then answered the call at a quarter to three skipping beat after beat after beat after beat.
Five left me speechless and six kept the score of the trance that was seven and eight.
Now I sit in the silence of a quarter to nine, grasping my heart for a beat.
THE MINIMUM MAXIMUM Our potential is then.. oh, no.. no. Our potential is when. When you are free to be free. As someone I aspire to surrender to, I demand that you live up to our potential by loving whoever you love with reckless abandonment.
TICK TOCK Maybe we got it wrong Maybe it’s not time that travels but energy Maybe I do feel you in my body From hours away and distance apart Do you think we are mistaken? We talk about the present like it’s a factor of time. Maybe it’s not time at all. Maybe it’s energy. Close your eyes I dare you Feel me touch your skin. I’m not so sure whats true of time But the truth is Today I don’t move though time, today I move through you.
THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM. Come pull up a chair, I made space for you. And just like that, the truth became part of her life again.
It’s here, in the spaces in between When you are not Doing nor aiming That enough time passes For you to finally start to feel A direction to face With a path that calls you Walk this path Believe this feeling That which you truly know Will not lead you astray.
ON REPEAT Kiss me now Choose only me. Choose me like it’s torture not to. Torture me with kisses. Then choose to kiss only me, All over again tomorrow.
Image: Landscape with Butterflies, 1956 by Salvador Dali
TO BE SEEN I'll make it up to you' he says, 'one day, I will repay this kindness'. He looked off into the future to consider that then, maybe then a great deed will be done. All she really wanted was someone Someone that looks at her close enough to see that she really loves fresh flowers. That’s the funny nature of attention. It always tells the truth. Where it rests is a record of a choice. Looking off into some not yet now, maybe never, created future was easier than looking her in the eyes. So, he went on repaying with the imaginary kindness of a future deed. When all she really needed was to be seen, and fresh flowers in her house.
Photography by Ruvim Noga – Instagram @ruvimnogaphoto
The power. The pleasure. The truth and all that is real. That which she desired deeply was everything she had never embodied. She unwound the grasp of the life she had created, untangled it and let it fall. It was only then, she became the power, the pleasure, the truth and all that is real.
Artwork by Alice Pasquini – Twitter @alicepasquini
CREATING UNIVERSES It's just us and the stars, she said, and with that they surrendered and the whole universe was created between them. Creativity became them, and they knew this was everything.
Artwork by Ukrainian painter Aлексей Cлюсар
SEEKING FLOWERS She rode her bike around the streets, searching for flowers to take home, knowing that somewhere, there would be a rose ready to bloom in her presence. The warmth of the morning sun on her skin, under a full moon sky. It was the kind of meditation that happens when you don’t try.
UNDERSTAND ME My unspoken knowing You have access here Take me where you please Please me as you will Lead me on a path Hold me in your gaze Unfold the places in me That know no words So I may exhale pleasure And in hale you like morning air.