Part of What Makes Me

I play with my fruit, talk to tart and sweet alike, let my tongue (and teeth) love it from peel to flesh to seed… I love a good piece of fruit, invite its lush to fill me, to become part of what makes me, to see the shape of me (from the inside).

I found a moist heart
chilling, just staring at me,
begging for a bite

 

“Passionflowers are weeds”, you say to me, your disdain for the bohemian bloom as ludicrous as the possibility of your opinion mattering to my garden (or to me).

“I’ve always thought of you as invasive, parasitical, and not at all pretty”, I say to you. “Aren’t you glad that laws (and people) I respect find you useful?”

my passion
flowers in wild twists,
by nature

 

My favorite place in the hospital blooms and buzzes in July. The chant feeds my all. I sit on grass, thoughts crowned by coneflowers, fingertips slow dancing with soil. Passersby glance, smile, or shake their heads (as if trying to dispel the slow-death escaping the chimneys they have made of their nostrils). The honeyed buzz, the life-song, the winged dance is ended by puffs of smoke. The coneflowers and I droop a little, wondering why…

bees and blooms
do it perfectly,
why not us?

 

Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

 

Life Is Selfish…

…and thank goodness for that bit. The moment life stops being self-centered, death comes and steals the show. Nothing against death, who looks so chic in all her black and bone motifs. But… some of the best feels require some flesh.

Like coffee, can you see me delighting in coffee without using some tongue?
Exactly! Tongueless coffee might be joyless (and, perhaps, impossible),
especially on cloudy days (when we want to grin even if the sun is in a mood).

Anyhoo, life wants more Magaly for herself (who can blame her? I’m freaking awesome), and I must indulge her wants. No major changes. Just that I’ll post stories and poems only on Tuesdays. But worry not (well, maybe a bit), since I promise (threaten?) to stalk you on Facebook and Instagram every single day.

And for the 13 or 31 of you who are not on Facebook or Instagram, I shall post FB and Insta recaps (photos, poem bits, random rants) every other week or so. These recaps shall include writing updates and riotous ramblings about what I (and one of my parasols) get up to in The Woods and in The City.

 

the recaps and rambles will look something like this:

Last year, my Piano Man got me a red parasol.
I love it (not just because it’s red), but because it makes everything cooler.
Also, someone on FB said the pattern looks like veins and arteries,
which makes it cooler in a whole new way.

 

The pomelo seedling below was birthed from a fruit I ate some months ago…
I’m wondering if the tea (I hope to get from its leaves) will be just as sweet.
The wee stone in the pot followed me home from Friday Harbor.

in the spring,
soft leaves and heart stones
grow beauty

 

writing and stuff…
– I am rewriting some of my old stories and poems, trying to decide which collection to publish first. Or if I want to go for a twosome. We shall see…

What about you, my Luvs, what have you and life been up to these days?