Wednesday, August 31, 2011

out run

She spent the better half of the morning cursing the night before while the wind tore through her hair. He kept his foot on the gas climbing hills and taking turns like it never mattered if they made it home. They both thought seriously of heading all the way down to Mexico, wondering who would care if they never came back. How possible is it to just leave town? To reinvent everything you are down to your name and the way you kiss? How true is the saying, where ever you go there you are? Will these trials and tricks follow them down to the tips of the earth, or if you run fast enough can you out run yourself? There was only 104 miles left in this relationship and nothing but open road for the first time in years.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Red Book.

Erin Rose & Kevin Yoches - "Red Book" from Ryan Donahue on Vimeo.

If you didn't know, now you know. Milk Route Records, Red Book.


You've got a funny way about you
you got some guilt around your head
wearing you just like a halo
of the things you never said.
Your eyes shift like flipping coins
but there's no luck to land or hope
your hands hide behind a tethered truth
and left hanging from a rope.
I liked to say I knew you when
but when has come and gone
and days that I held dear to me
play out like broken songs.
You got this funny way about you
of someone I used to kiss
you keep guessing who you want to be
you're never loved, forever missed.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

funny= right?

for whatever reason. things will never be as they once were. for the good. the bad. the ugly. the pretty. the tomorrow. the yesterday. things change. tides come and go. people leave. and inevitably we are forced to grow. does the butterfly recognize the caterpillar as it's former self? from transformation there shall be transcendence. and I guess for whatever truth there is to a cliche. what doesn't kill you, really does make you stronger.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

is it luck?

She asked me if I had ever seen, first hand, what it's like to fall out of love. I told her coldly, I had never been so lucky. She said, it isn't luck if it leaves, and I said quietly, at least you saw it coming or going depending on the view I suppose. She said, the moral wasn't in the arrival and it certainly wasn't in the departure, it was in those moments left between. Then those moments I wondered but never asked, are those the moments where the love and the luck lie? So then what is the difference and when does one become another and is it not luck that brings us to love? Is it not luck that leads us slowly from love and inevitably to another source? Are you lucky if it's love or is love the lucky part?

Thursday, August 11, 2011


If you would have told me a week or so ago that things would look and feel the way they do now I would have laughed at you, smiled, and went on my way. What I should have done was batten down the hatches and save some rations for the storm. Sometimes the universe steps in and changes things because we don't have the foresight or the courage to change them ourselves. I am trying to take my own advice every moment so when I say these things, imagine me repeating them to myself in the mirror as the moments creep by. Sometimes for whatever reason unbeknowst to us at the moment, everything must change. There is a complete upheaval of your daily life as you know it. More than a change in the winds or the stars, monumental life changing shit just crashes around you and all you can do is hope that when the smoke clears, there is still a horizon to hope for. My mother tells me that from transformation there shall be transcendence. My mother knows best and in such times I find comfort in her words and her ever steady planetary alignments. 

To see my plans crumble, for the good or the bad, has been a terrifying and liberating experience. With no financial aid and some clear thinking I have decided to withdraw from school and pursue other dreams.
To watch love as you have known it change and leave before your eyes is also one of the deepest and saddest places I have ever gone. But there is a lot of beauty left, and I am healthy. 
The only thing left to do is to rebuild and rely solely on my own resources to create a life that I have always intended on living. 

I feel a lot like a Phoenix. The sudden and explosive fire to both self, hearth, and home. Yet, new life rises from those ashes and is more beautiful than ever. 
If only I could put the fire out. 

Monday, August 8, 2011

Thursday, August 4, 2011

how it feels


Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the
perfumes of spring.
   I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?
   Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
   I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten
your eyes.
   Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of
you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
do me irreparable harm.
   Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
   I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
   Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because
of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting
stars, falling objects. 

Pablo Neruda  


Variation On the Word Sleep
Margaret Atwood

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

no space.

I just kept saying, "I get it," but I don't.

Find          Space. 

Or don't.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

what do you do?

What do you do when everything you have ever done is hanging in the balance? How do you handle the moment you realize that you've ran off the cliffs edge long ago and that you've still been going all this time? What does it mean when every project, every song, every story, every photograph, every moment, every kiss, every trip, every plan, everything seems to be for some greater good that's no longer good to you? The sudden realization that the wheels have been spinning and you seemingly have gone nowhere? When all your efforts seem to be for someone else's gain? What do you do with everything when it feels like nothing and there is no where to rest it? What do you do?

Monday, August 1, 2011

do this.

What would the world look like if we all gave just a little more?
Check out Collaborative World here to find out how you can do your part to help them do their part. 
Purchase with a Purpose.