I don't write, I paint myself blind with words...diogenes herded...ignorance...gilded cages...filling up on beauty unleashed...free will's maddening fractures...eyes that need to smell to see...
I've sometimes funhouse-d too many things...
You cannot possibly funhouse ENOUGH things, I think. (Or turn enough nouns into verbs.) ~Glad to see you playing. Why else would life be a "gift" if it were not a toy?! How much did we hate those Christmas/birthday packages of "practical" items when we were kids? "Oh, great. Socks. Thanks, Mom." Right?! No way. Give me the beach-house Barbie set and a slammin' new outfit, and maybe I'll be nice to you for half a day. That's the way that worked ... for me, anyway. I was/am/always-will-be the ultimate sweeter-than-rock-candy bitchity bitch bitch. You have no idea how mean I can be. Or how sweet. And anyone who finds out, soon wishes they hadn't.Always, always put bubble-wrap in poems. Yay!!!P.S. It's my son's second birthday today, so we're gonna party hard ... toddler style. ;) Pictures to come throughout the day.
A variation that I found hiding: "I asked to be wind-laughed to." That's all I want out of the world at this point (well, other than my kids' safety and well-being) --- for the wind to talk to me and laugh at/with me.
No, TO me. As if hearing someone laugh is a gift ... because it is. That's my purpose in life --- to make people laugh. But I hope some will also be so kind as to do that for me too.
the hole idea of bubble wrapping what wind and water does to stone(the grand canyon for instance) is a fascinating artistic endeavor to me...enjoy ye celebrations...molti auguri di compleanno felice lì
I used to be completely fascinated with Italy (when I allowed myself fascinations). I knew for sure that once I was free of my parents' control, I would decide between moving to New York and Italy, and never look back. Funny, eh?