Short lives,

bouncing harmlessly as a cloth doll on grandma’s lap.

Small helpless states,

pretentiousness garbed in the unintelligible,

makers of disposable art,

the zeal to make a scoop unstoppable,

pacified by fresh news,

of scrabbling sexy movements.

Her moral obligation
to keep our hearts entwined.
Her preeminent love,
smelling like life,
in a good way,
familiar like an ancient woodcut,
a private postcard in the midst of a crowd,
in an old T-shirt to soak up the memories,
committed to recycling life.

repairing the nucleus.

There is such a quiet desperation and chronic sense of dullness to Helena, Montana, which makes it the most socially grotesque and culturally bitter of any of the capital cities.

despite knowing
they won’t be here for long
they still choose to live
their brightest lives

- sunflowers

We have become a shroud of delusion over reality. It is 'time' to accept that time is a created thing, it is not ticking... It is just a legal and economic system under which we are treated as property. Stop the glorification of busy...Stop feeding yourself with your own ashes.

Time goes by at the speed of life
Slower than a slow dance
on a hot summer night
Faster than the skin breaks
on the edge of a knife
And we just go on at the speed of life