Hades King of the Underworld, mystical fish
writing & photography
Little Moon Bear
the Rain falls so lightly like
Light falls softly in the evening time
streams of dirt and pollen
slide slowly through the streets
slip out of sight
settle softly Somewhere
far away
out of Existence
or at least Mine
an Ethereal cleanness comes
to replace it
Water Rebirths the World
My dreamTreehouse Community
Finca Bellavista (FBV) is a sustainable treehouse community situated on 600 acres of land in the mountainous South Pacific coastal region of Costa Rica. FBV is the brainchild of Mateo and Erica Hogan, a married couple from Colorado who fell in love with Costa Rica.
(via chandeliersea)
“Men in sleep aren’t boys, but aren’t
exactly men, either— they soften,
revert to animal,
curled-up beast […]
Not without violence, even now,
your hands clasp when brushed,
or seek out my haunch, my wrist, and hold
for a time, release with a soft grunt, affirm
that I’m here, or someone is.”
— From “The Merchant of the Picaresque” by Rebecca Hazelton (via renegadetongue)
(Source: therumpus.net, via renegadetongue)
I’ve had an almost unbelievable stroke of luck/good fortune or whatever you want to call it. In the past two days: my MIP case got dismissed in court (no probable cause for entry), my university conduct case got dropped, and I got a job for the summer which was desperately needed. Feelin’ pretty good right now.
Luck feels rare, raw and
heavy like a box packed
full of nice china
and wine glasses
held too high
above the mover’s shoulders.
There are an infinite number of ways
chance could intervene
to cause a trip
or a hesitation
or a stumble.
Luck is a lot to hold
and my fingers are loose
what they try to grasp
they will probably lose.
I cannot tell if I am
Eternally Unsatisfied
or simply
never satisfied
the Difference
is in the anticipation
and the addition of hope
“never satisfied” leaves room
for hope
“Eternally Unsatisfied”
closes its doors
If you tasted my blood
it would taste
like grapefruit
un-sugared.
It would probably evoke
the feeling of bitter,
utter
loneliness.
But if you tasted my lips
they would taste
like peaches
canned.
They would probably evoke
the feeling of boundless,
unending
love (somehow caged).
