imagination experiments of a stardust yogini
He can dance. We danced to some love song that was probably in DIRTY DANCING. He crooned to me while we danced. This Dad of mine, this Dad I never knew. I was having fun but was a little uncomfortable, too — I felt more as if I was on a blind date than at my half-brother’s wedding being reunited with my Dad after 30 years of no contact.
Read MoreI wish I could take the way back machine and just be in another time. See Patti Smith in concert in 1976. Or Jimi Hendrix. Or Janis Joplin. Or Mozart. Imagine that, seeing Mozart conduct one of his orchestras.
Read MoreMad Girl’s Love Song by Sylvia Plath “I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.) The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all […]
Read MoreA madlibs poem I created by playing on the site: Language is a Virus
Read Moretinged with moon fever
witch, yogi, werewolf —
what’s the difference really?
Diabetes is just like a lover, hurting you from the inside. Sherman Alexie, I think you’re going to have another book for me to read soon. It’s been twice, three times since I’ve thought about you in less than a week. You’re picture is on my wall. I wrote about you and now I’ve randomly picked a quote from you. If I were to write a love letter to a living stranger I think it would be you.
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I don’t know if I can survive this violin. It’s an undulating magic carpet that has got me swinging from bedpost to bedpost.
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holly troy ~ sacred folly 