redebonypublishersinternational

grist gravel gravity greatness….

Michelle Bloom

currently painting hanuman holding a female body…as the grist turns the mud into a pearl, that is me on the inside, waiting to unfurl.  i keep making mistakes.  just like the rest of the human race.  going too fast.  not listening to my inner voice.  being shot with arrows and making sure not to shoot second arrows in.  sitting under the dogwood tree, watching every thought’s sharp tip blade threaten.  wishing to cry but not able.  tenderness seeking. wanting to be smitten.  love, where are you?  you are inside me.  you are me.  i know.  i feel it.  keep on feeling it.  ease on down the road.  grown up love is different.  it’s not about sameness.  nor being seized by the inner animus.  it’s not projecting your wounds and desires, selfish to posses, or needy and careless.  i don’t have a type.  there is no sense of his physical body…

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This entry was posted on April 29, 2015 by in Uncategorized.
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