the love in your eyes turns the knife in my stomach so nice

At that very moment she saw the horizon stretching out, at last a thin silver line marked the space between. Kneeling on a half prayer she balanced for hours. She was holding her breath like that. The day shifted and floated, carrying the weight of all of those other times with other people. They seemed to be stretched so far apart that the ties that had once held them became empty and brittle. Coming all the way back to where she had started, it gave her something solid to think about, like keeping your hand on the horse, sliding it up the back and across the neck. You don’t tell it anything, a secret even your horse can’t figure. Bleeding all of this felt fantastic. She withered away in this space of thought with the stark white light against its darkening counterpart. The walk home uneasy and jilting.

dinosaur lungs

dr peter ward talked about dinosaurs in a guest lecture today at work. We all have dinosaur lungs. check it out.

The next book on my summer reading list: A Great Night

I am working on a few classic illustrations this week, inspired by some of my favorite stories Peter and the Wolf, Rumpelstiltskin and Thumbelina. Lots of drawing, this is a good project.

I'm pretty happy right now.

heartbeats like this

The Knife - Heartbeats from Johannes Nyholm on Vimeo.

you do too

don't need money, don't need fame

just a fool in love

headdresses

I'll take the gold one and her magic stick

happy we were ever

I had you all to play with. I had a piece of each of your hearts, and now you've slipped away into your own lives and I am left with the happiest heaviest memories. I would give so much to peek back into those late nights and stand with you under the stars on the open grass rim we called home. Your honest little hearts, belting things into the night. I miss you ever so, so much.

an old poem I wrote in grad school

First you love me, Then you fade away.

Sings Lindsey, as if his guitar could pronounce the word.

Between you and your own excitement, I say, speaking about myself.

This premonition ceases to disappoint, out of all of this dinosaur breath.

Beginning with the smashing and smothering together of ten thousand years before this hour,

Ending with the realization that this hour has not yet been born.

Seeping into the space that resides silently as the hills flooded with fog.

Saving it would only allow that time to quicken its split into light and dust.

Can I imagine the consistency of fermions created before the sun could blink?

But I can find you in a crowd over and over again.

Touch the sleeve of a stranger and know its you again.

Go to sleep dreaming of the escape I will commit, again.

To late tonight, to drag the past out into the light.

Those boys sweetly sing, smoother than Lindsey can.

Bottles and bottles and bottles of ocean foam.

Two hours pass and I’m still singing along.

Singing and humming and whistling Pack’s song.

lovely drops

Julia Fernandez-Pol makes pretty work

Conductor: www.mta.me from Alexander Chen on Vimeo.