time like wind

Wind whispered memories like linoleum checkered floor and strawberry freckled apron, coriander, colanders, and calls on the curly pastel landline.

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stream of thought

berry blisters and chocolate Sunday’s melt like ice mirrors in potholes and pocks. grace writes my name in opaque fluff through periwinkle lace, calls to me in the musty mold of depression and vomit. a circle of unicyclists, people trying to pass through mountains with hand drills, and I’m there, too. my heart’s in my hand, shiny pointy glass shattered in six billion two shards reflecting my somber mask, droplets pool on the pieces stillborn like an ancient swamp, preserved and stuck, stoic and sad. I smell the smell for the first time I’ve breathed. No, that’s a lie. I smell it again, again. Maybe yet to come more. The smell of hospital wafts like chemicated medicated chalk rubber gloves, slick and concealing skin, hiding what lies below every throb. discreet. (or so they think). no hospital gown—that other lie of a dress, like undressed mess bare and raw before the front of accreditation.  the back ties barely glued conceal nothing as I sit square and cold like people do in waiting rooms, rocking themselves like mothers and moving sloths, remember. Just let it go, the fussy, hungry woman before me dictated. inject this in the spiral notebook spine holding you up some days: go to bed and rest, let go and dissect yourself until you come to the beginning of the circle.

lush light

fire bulb bursts,

blossoming in the east

like frost-licked crocuses

tasting

spring.

majenta, violet, floral

embers frolic,

dripping and dreaming

fresh mercy.

crisp, pure tweets pierce solitude,

calling dusty sleepers:

Awake!

the King,

enthralled with her beauty

desires

to dance

with His bride.

 

Psalm 45:11

and the king will desire your beauty.

bodyy symphonyy

IMAG2522_1

A poem prayer for people today–people you and people me. People us. People not us. People all. Singing together to the Maker of people. People: Designed to dance. Made to praise. People = lost outside the original design. People us cannot be found until we’re lost. We find our life when we lose ourselves in the Conductor of creation.

Recipe for Frosted Whimsy

1 inch octopus tongue
Christmas morning
3 watts firefly butt
88 sunshine beam smiles
9 cups pebbles, sprinkles, dew medley
1 pond warm fuzzies
4 baby yaks
3 friends
For the frosting:
6 gallons fairy turds
2 whale songs
1/4 cup daisy doilies
11 minutes wind chime melody
top right corner of sunrise from September 5, 1542
Mix well.

Enjoy with your neighbors. Dance long. Sing strong. Look up. Rest. Run. Laugh till the fun’s done. Repeat.

a conversation

“have you felt the tug
for more
the longing to be who you truly are
you try try try try try try try try
try more
yet in all your try-ing
you end up on the floor
(again).”

“yeh!’

“the Bible says all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God
the Bible says the wages of sin is death
(don’t take my word, get into the Word yourself).”

“if sin leads to death, is there any way out?
is there a lifeline? hope? HeLp??!!?
(I need help…)”

“there is a Way:
Jesus.
He loves you so He died your death so you could
live.
just believe.”

“CRIKEY COOKIES. come again?!?!!!
so, you’re saying, I TOTALLY offended the King of the UNIVERSE who knows everything I
do
think
say
wrong
and He is JUST so He’s gotta judge which means I’m totally DEAD,
and there was NOTHING I could do about it???”

“yes.”

“BUT! (biggest but ever) God loves me! so He took my place! right?”

“correct. believe in Jesus. we’re saved by grace through faith. salvation is a free gift. what do you do with a gift?”

“regift to my great aunt, Flowita!! love her! she’s a professional fruitcake baker”

“??? well, usually you just open it, and enjoy it.”

“Oh, WoW! thank you Jesus!
AHHhhhhHhhhhHhH!!!!!!!!” *breakdancing and olympic singing into the sunset*

#gospel #goodnews #grace