Nature Grows Art

I find peace in soul-feeding art that is Nature-made: trees defleshed by time, stones caressed by sun and rain and snow… to be cairned by hands that love, love, love to write in bones that echo the wild song of leaves that can no longer tongue the wind.

Nature
grows art
out of death…
to delight the wild
living.

bloom and fruit
adorn my garden
before fall

Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

Off to Say Adios to My Boob

As I was adding my PJ bottoms to my I’m-off-to-say-adios-to-my-right-boob bag, I thought I should write a short post to let you know that I’m still kicking and stuff…

The house is cleaned (my Piano Man rocks!), the post-op food is frozen (my stove and fridge and I rock!), the audiobooks and movies have been downloaded (Dark, The Babysitter, Little Evil, Misery… *may all that’s holy and suitably-humored protect any person who might have the pleasure of being my roomy*), the writing and blackout poetry materials are ready. I am ready.

I don’t plan to blog until I’m released from the hospital, properly de-boobed (and hopefully de-cancered). But I’ll probably stroll around Facebook and/or Instagram after the medical ninjas (with an absolutely acceptable boob fixation) finish the 1st battle towards re-sculpting my sexy bits back to health.

Send me some positive thoughts. Thoughts infused with wild laughter. Laughter that’s stronger because it was lived. Lived jokes (with inappropriate punchlines).

I will be
less of a bad thing,
but… more me

 

oh, yes… my PJs rock!