7:52am September 5, 2014

Quick update- I am still in process of moving and this has been a huge fun challenge as the house is in needed upgrades to accommodate such a large family! I also am having serious issues with carpel tunnel syndrome as I use massage therapy instead of operation my right hand is the worst (and the one I use for art etc) It hurts from my fingertips to my shoulder.
Fuck that !
Once my hands start minding and things settle down I will be back to mingle with my Tumblr family.

Love brilliantly!

The Fox ;-)

1:29am August 31, 2014

 I Write My Own Story


“I write my own story”

She said on bent knees

“In broken bread. In tired soles

From weary roads, where

shadow chasing light

tripped on stone, made

by god or by men its

the same, in the end.

I made myself free

from the hanging

breeze, from box

cutters slashes, that

1:24am August 31, 2014

Life wrote a thousand poems
while sleeping
…now a thousand and one.
The turning of images
from mood rings, moon light
into internal combusting sunshine.
see how soles of
shoes are as inverted ice-skates
for blade walking balance
upon damascus
indentation toes
Balancing skyscrapers
North West, steeples
deep in South silhouettes
invoking legends
placing patterns in
trees for winter harsh
Now waving in shadows
Life awakens into darkness
(void of labels, perception
invented by light)
dreaming geometric
ice-skating patterns, fractal
stories- bending energy from
clay neck to spine. It sounds
like a melody creating, weaving
imbedding of …
await to see
faceless if it be by mood-rings
moonlight or sunshine.

6:55am August 25, 2014
Leave me breathless
as wood chipped days 
when meadows smell
like wisdom drops
trampolined in webbing. 
Speak softly through
my mind with fingertip
Braille. Where window
shaded eyes fog tears
for a smiling bamboo.

Leave me breathless
as wood chipped days
when meadows smell
like wisdom drops
trampolined in webbing.
Speak softly through
my mind with fingertip
Braille. Where window
shaded eyes fog tears
for a smiling bamboo.

8:39pm August 24, 2014

I was trying to
that life came by
freight train at exactly
2:12 am
for god of time
began in train tracks.
Can you feel the
strings vibrating
from your thoughts
into mine?
The filament
rain sprinkles
chalk dust residue
in pineal ground central.
What they can’t filtrate
society sweetens
into wines of dreams
lineage of regurgitated
and slightly seasoned
I swear by air that
i sit here
on bamboo checkered
That sword fight
installments of the
past against she that
breaks free.
I just forgot It’s only
a game lost
(not) in
a compelling dream.

9:03pm August 23, 2014
All my kids…  Today.

All my kids… Today.

8:41am August 1, 2014

looking to find myself
without tools
without chants or charms
no star charts or guides
Nothing to suffer
nothing to gain
still, I am
unlatched from time
Concept of finding
believes in being lost.

12:42pm July 28, 2014


Love is a subject
glorified by apparitions
by lengthly ghosts passer-bye’s
good-bye hosts. Love was not
Cohen’s victory march, rather
a fluid stream that embedded
when evaporations took breathing
under mud, seriously.
I look for love, always/all ways linger(s/ing)
in shadows and store-fronts
bewilder(ing) face brows in question marks across mindless thinking
Love lingers just on the corners of my mouth
tasting like wine or brandy or nothing
just a phantom of a kiss
before bruises unwelcome
trying too hard to find
Love is a subject expanding, contracting
yet-never really going anywhere
just dancing in the strobe lights of existence
fluxing with prescribed perceptions
winged she wills to fly free when mirrors
are slates-free from creases.
Love forgive me if I trespass too long
you just smell like a garden I remembered
from an ancient place, before time.

6:20am July 28, 2014

I am
a hurricane strumming a washboard by the cherry plucked creek-side bed
I keep unfiltered honey in my purse just to remind myself that I dream of being
a bee charmer
It smells like cyber-space as the sun rises at 5.a.m. I am
status lying a magic carpet that made the small world forget how the King is still taking whats “his” from an uncivilized society blinded by the broken machine
He told me, to watch out for falling parts and perhaps we can steampunk them revolutionary, while they war over organic farm eggs, in the mid-west
Calling in credit checks on cash cards that have no real value, just the sound of chips falling like river ripples on stone cold words of washboarding poets.

9:53am July 24, 2014

I resolved to give it all away
as though holding is

How can I hold to myself?

I resolved to watch it fly
as sky wrapped her arms
around his beauty
and I swear to this day
she dropped love into
his blue eyes…

And an olive branch
within his words