miso : home-made tattoos
a landscape of a mountain and river on francesca, for where ashes are scattered,
traded for the most amazing home-cooking, melbourne : 2013
denim, rolled up at the ankles,
the ways i used to dress for myself
when i was thinking of you.
i could never feel the cold, but
now i shiver in the december air.
but what in the world could possibly stop
a woman with an eye that sees
more than the phenomenal?
when the moon hangs over the sky, bowing down to
those who dare to look, how can she lay herself
down to become a martyr?
in the cities and the suburbs, and the countryside,
fleeting snow and folklore, she cannot
a woman and a witch are only
separated by the knowledge of being.
you exist by declaring yourself as such.
i am, i am, there is nothing more.
wow oh gosh! i’m having a little flail moment right now ahh. thank you sooo much aw x
HEY WRITER FRIENDS
there’s this amazing site called realtimeboardwhich is like a whiteboard where you can plan and draw webs and family trees and timelines and all that sort of stuff. you can also insert videos, documents, photos, and lots of other things. you can put notes and post-its and, best of all, you can invite other people to be on the board with you and edit together!!
this is really really awesome and a great tool for novel planning, so if you’re doing nanowrimo…. this could be good for you!!
the light of an early evening in the city holds my hands in a promise,
a time without the necessity of time itself. a break for my voice
to shake and stammer, but i sing the words anyway. a break for
cakes and tea and bathroom doors.
i see what you close your eyes to ignore.
that light reflects off my windows, folding itself over my hands like lace,
a kind of beauty that i cannot repair if broken. a place for my legs
to ache and bruise, but i refuse to fall down for you. a place for
buses and taxis and train stations.
i see where you fell asleep that night waiting.
(the sun against my back
when i slouch into my chair at work
is a comfort. it reminds me of
dreaming, and of lazy sundays
alone in the haze of summer, it
reminds me that it is okay to
forget how to breathe sometimes.)