Threading the Grid
All the old masters looking downcould not foresee her victory.We still can't see it now.Scarlet-eyed and spellbound. Blinded and discarded.The knowing ones do weave.Salvage the thread.Cherish the seed. "She is returning""She is returning""She is returning" They chant it endlessly. to be continued...
Aloofly scattered should be my nickname. It's apt indeed. I do a lot of things. We all do. Making a wage of creative pursuits calls for a bit of mania and so I comply, live with the seasons say I. In an attempt to consolidate the scraps and tie up loose ends, I am making… Continue reading Loose Threads
Look first to the trees, they know better than you.If you ask nicely, they will guide you.If you sing to them, they will give life to you. Watch the stream wrap around you.Let the rain drop. Soak it all in.You are here to begin again. The cave keeps its secrets. We all do.The light inside… Continue reading Elder
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When it's time, you'll know. But what will you'll know? Pain surely, you'll know that. And the sting of what's gone unsaid, ouch and ping. A torn tendon and maybe something broken, a leg, a marriage, your will. Oh, perhaps you'll know about the stars and the dead philosophies that make sense of lingering. You'll… Continue reading what to know
Art is an appropriate response to our given state of affairs. The intention of this space is one of dedication to the myths we live and create in our day-to-day. I offer these ramblings with a warm heart and open mind. May it please you and the Muses-9.
Stitchteller's Keep 
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