Namastanley strikes again…

Three bags full!

Because, if I were God, I would

Sometimes it’s the acquaintances and strangers who surprise us most — those who see us clearly, if only for a moment. And sometimes it’s the friends who don’t, who leave the quiet bruises. This piece is about both — and about choosing to stay open anyway.

Where’s my pink?

You mock your meniscus.

Poopoo your herniated disks,

Ignore the worrying cracking noise

that just escaped the mysterious innerworkings of your hip-flexors;

you are – Namastanley exalts – adding life-juice

by crushing your pigeon.

it is what it is and it could be worse

Also,

I’ve never seen

The Matrix.

Do you remember when we were pretty –

Oh, so very, very pretty! –

Now that our feet beckon our topography,

and time bolts towards eternity?

I hope, now, that we soften,

strive to let the inconsequential go.

A poem read by the fire, and a very friendly young fox.

Blessings

Cowboy books, Arabellah Gherkin-Devine and Returning to Life

Pam Bondi a refusé tout commentaire

Pam Bondi has declined to comment

The art of floating through the day

And you, amor, you shine!

Subvert your verbs, Tart up your metaphors

Bound by dreamcatching duties

Do you remember…?

Too sick and it sucks