Not The Rockefellers

Drawing Hands, 1948 by M. C. Escher via Magpie Tales from across the table the world your words meet my eyes and stir my soul how easily they reach across latitudes and oceans across mountains and time across cities and down herd paths how urgently they wind up the streets of my heart and marrow unlocking doors and lighting fires from across the table the world your words expose the infallible gods of lost hope as astronomical frauds Rene ~ 2013 For Him and Her

Image via Magpie Tales Alma she, the practical godmother  of re purposed filled lives did so, not out of fad or fashion or deep cosmic guilt but rather frugality borne out of horse drawn necessity with Alma one was never allowed to simply "be" a spoon could not just stir a kettle had to do more than just boil one trick extravagances had no business in her business for Alma "just doing your bit" was an unforgivable sin and a grotesque waste of limitless talent she eschewed the flock trotted superhighway and blazed her own way in inventive fashion the future sewn and soldered  formed from  whatever she had on hand waiting to be reborn and twisted  drifting from the past Rene ~ July 2013

whoever can speak  without disturbing the peace  whoever can walk without stirring the past  whoever can listen without divining wisdom whoever can love without embracing scars whoever can think without considering the future cannot ever truly  entirely be Rene ~ July 2013

my love  runs on banana peels and deadlines  scribbled on toasted origami matchbooks  then tossed  in a junk drawer until crunchy it's an acquired taste Rene ~ July 2013

image: Andrew Wyeth ( via Magpie Tales) before we became slayers of giants  conquerors  of brave, new worlds we were frozen trapped,  inside blocks  of Carrara  wanting willing to risk everything for a chance the right to be higher,  mightier, divine free Rene~July 2013

not feeling so  much  of a  muchness anymore I can't  fake the connections I won't have the  discussions my  thoughts outdated  my  words a dead language  rabidly  stabbing at  tabloid typos am i losing  you? writing with red ink  on the arms of my t-shirt buy  the milk or pay the rent  Rene ~ 2013 

in the house by the leaning tree a candle in the window beckons me her front porch c asual familiar style an easy going f riendly stay a while s mile i trace her railings enter inside she is warm, w elcoming and willing to provide come,  fill me up her song  whispered   in my ear i’ll be your home while you are here she’s missed t he sound  of heartbeats  deep breaths,   d own her halls the gentle, urgent pleading in a lover's call i am your space that secret sanctuary  you desire to dream, to create let my mysteries inspire curl up  in my nooks let my charms fascinate look through my eyes meditate love me i’ll shelter you safe harbor at last cherish me; y our future wrapped in my past let me live once again come d well within me the light in my window burns for thee