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I’m a lo cation. Come sit with me, darlin', and please take off your coat. Tell me adventures of the sun and the moon and whatever else comes in pairs or attractions. Remember to give me those five stars before you go.
a lo tus, a lo cust persistent in the mud of a dried up ocean.
I’m a lo ading dock.
I’m a lo wering sun, and you don’t have to worry about me: consistency is my horizon, predictability my city. And remember those stories? I'm a pair with the moon and the stars and the absence of sound, and until I rise in the ash of proximity, I’ll always be.
I walk over dried worms, the day after rain, and wonder if their lives (defined by these last moments) were courageous or moronic. I wonder if I am the splinter or the lion—and who would be the splinter? Doesn't someone have to be?
I crawl on my hands and knees to find the river. Trees grow from its overflow. There has been too much rain this week. There has been too much rain this week. Where are the silver linings—the tree in front of me grows proudly as the water laps around its thighs. Ah, I muse, I think I understand the splinter.
Two trains come by. Two trains thunder through this railroad town, and they whisk the chocolate dirt. The earthquakes scare the geese. They blow by like dried leaves, and there, there is the sound of the river. Here [in the stillness] is the display of hope.
I cry in front of the river, longing to sing alongside chickadees—I do not know enough happy songs. I cough with the crows, instead: I do not know enough happy songs.
But I know train songs, leaving songs, lonely songs, wounds-bleeding-out songs, and maybe they will water the dirt and grow a happy tree. Maybe it will grow somewhere there isn’t supposed to be a tree, or a river will migrate somewhere there isn’t supposed to be a river—perhaps we are everything we are not—and someone will pass by it, take a breath, and feel like they can hold it for another year.
When I crawl to find the sun, I grab a broken bush end. My hands are cracked, hibernating with the dead grass, the dried leaves. I wonder if it is perhaps stillness before the flight—the growth. Oh, I smile, I think I understand the splinter.
I'm going to be taking a break for some mental-health care, and then I'll be back. It's been hard for me to saddle some things and my own wellbeing. So I'm fixing that! I don't know if I've really been doing good on this site, but I've appreciated being back. Maybe when my sickness fully clears up will be a good time! I'm projecting that at a week or so. Fingers crossed! I think it's a sinus infection from the wildfire smoke. The smoke has cleared up, thankfully, but for a solid two weeks we had warnings about unsafe air quality (which, yeah, let me just stop breathing real quick), so I wouldn't be surprised if that was the culprit. My top teeth feel like they're falling out when I walk (sinus issues can pressure the upper jaw and cause tooth pain), so I'm looking forward to that ending haha. Never taking my painless teeth for granted again!
Stay bright, lovely lights. I love you. I've noted a few of you, and I've been taking care of myself, just running through some woods. I just need some time. You don't forget to take care of yourselves, either! My notes are still open!
Sometimes I like to smile and just tell myself these tall jungles of problems are just playgrounds for giants or something. Small in the big scheme - available solutions with a different perspective. I've been thinking that after I heard this song a while back. I really, really love this song. In general, there are so many beautiful things about it to love. It drips with nostalgia. I hope you can love it, too!
21 years growing. Forest-dweller, friend of the moon, shy hermit crab... a pagan, seeking. I howl to coyotes at 1 in the morning and am a self-proclaimed music-swimmer (mostly, I drown). Admittedly, I'm not very interesting, but I am fairly friendly. Feel free to drop me a line. Or a poem. Or your favorite song.
my activity on this site can be compared to guerilla warfare:
I'm currently a junior on the path to pursuing my PhD in clinical psychology. The dream is to one day work with the Department of Veterans Affairs. I'm a research assistant in one of my university's psychology labs, where we are studying sleep. When I'm not on campus memorizing every chip of paint, I'm working at my other "civilian" job (which I like to think makes me sound similar to a superhero).
trees, racing rivers, singing poorly to the moon, Lord Huron, Dead Poets Society, Pride and Prejudice, ambiguity.
nullibicity: n. - the state of being nowhere; non-existence.
My favorite word-weaver (I'm biased and not sorry):
Favorite moviesdead poets society, pride & prejudice, secret windowFavorite bands / musical artistsgenre: indie is good, indie is life. Favorite gamesanimal crossing (animal crossing validates my life)Tools of the Tradeshaking hands and a growing mindOther Interestsphilanthropy, becoming a tree, trees, and trees. Oh, look: trees