I am become my garden.
I close my eyes at night and am met with visions of nettles, dandelions, daffodils, newly unfurled leaves. I am dreaming in California poppy and purple clematis.
My fingernails have a crust of dirt under them that will not fully disappear until late October. My body feels like a green and bristly place. Bright with mineral tang and stretching up and out, groping for sustenance.
The cavity of my chest is filled with flowers and soil and shiny-eyed seedlings. Wild white indigo and cherry tomatoes and sacred basil. Golden Alexander and anise hyssop.
Drawings lately:
Cool stuff on the internet:
an old friend made a cool record. The track ‘God Fax’ knocked my socks off
If you need a good essay, try this, this, or this. (sacrifice and slow living, Sun Ra, and an in-depth analysis of Ponyo)
started watching Pushing Daisies on HBO. It’s weird and colorful and full of dead people. Hits the spot when I’m looking for something to stare at late at night.
and a song for the road:
<3