Today’s Parsha for those who read the Torah Schedule each year….
Speak to all the congregation of the children of Israel, and say to them: You shall be holy… ( 609 more words
The sun cast repentant closing day shadows … across the window panes of the Library of Alexandria … the fields of river blessed inundation … the black betwixt amber caught … craving soaks the mud red bank where in desire holds her icy breath … clay clouds bank to the horizon pressing pursed against the plains false claim to be hillsides … merely masking dreams with hope hampering joy … of a sign, a symbol scrawled in Earth … that there is a promise land out out beyond this pale painted hint … open hearts make mauve and rosey pallor petal dreads bleed red … beating brandish strikes at Summer songs that dare rejoices in … on the mountain top. 6 more words
In the East there lies a Mountainside … drawn and rigid against the meadow daughter it shades from love until the noon of day … Dawn sleeps there in his arms … her warmth and light contained by the pitch of his ebony arc … as he tucks her to his belly and shelters beloved nest from Night’s cold lust … In the day when she is flying, ever on copper wings, he scavenges for golden trinkets to bind about her fingers and wrists … tattooing her with the molten metal alchemy of his love … when once again the starlight can be heard approaching the borders of mortal memory and order … she relents and is enfolded again in his strength. 6 more words
Winter words have been elusive lots … jumbled time tumbling bronzed locks … tethering heartbeats to your memory … bell ship bound in some sunken grave of grey ground … and feather down dullard dreaming cartilage cast spinning on the ice … frozen fronds waiting for the spring thaw … like ancient love letters tucked in the cracks of a wishing wall … to return to the dust you blew through those hollow haunts … I kept the wine from freezing between my thighs … though they were rosy enough in the beginning with out currants and lavender to share their spice … it will be a good year to uncork the secrets we stained so many a moment with … let the butterflies drink all they will and carry you away on drunken wings … that sad or silken sorrows shall visit no more the cobwebs or the broom. 6 more words
Maybe guttural and maybe just utterances that we don t consciously make. I am talking about perhaps whacked out breathing that makes noises, words or phrases, sighs, baby type sounds, screams, anything that you may have noticed coming out that you didn t intend upon. 56 more words