the changing of the months always pulls at me
pulls at me the way the numbers are swallowed up
in a new page
and a new “1”
neatly stacked up in the corner of the glossy calenderial sheet
like a new horizon that somehow
Continue reading “volumes of the future [poetry]”
Tag: northern california
the colors of the last of october
inaudible melodies: jack johnson live!
wednesday night was pretty much the best ever. i mean, seeing jack johnson live? i’ve only been looking forward to this for like, ever. it was amazing & definitely did not disappoint.
…in the long run we have found
silent films are full of sound
inaudibly free
slow down everyone
you’re moving too fast
frames can’t catch you when
you’re moving like that…
-jack johnson
interior design: orange and green bedroom
you’ve seen the ikea somnat crib we’re planning to get. below is a little collage of the vibrant colours the crib will be joining.
and stay tuned, because next up on the blog, i’ll be posting another in the ongoing series ::a collection of fotos found on flickr:: this time it will be all about (orange and green!) bunting and pendants, since i’ll soon be putting brush and scissors to paper to make a string or two myself!
He goes ahead of you
“The Lord is the one who goes ahead of you; He will be with you. He will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” -Deuteronomy 31:8
106 degree days and coyote nights
it
‘s so dry outside, it feels like the world is going to crumble up and blow away. 106 is hotter than i remember, somehow.
the nights are still cool, so we sleep with the windows open and the delicious Delta breeze blowing through the screen. the coyotes roam the countryside freely after dusk, and i’m at least once every night i’m awakened to their high-pitched yowling. sometimes it starts out slowly, just one coyote, and then slowly inches up, up, up as more and more voices join in, until finally the howls reach a fever pitch and the four corners of the house reverberate with their yi yi yis.
i love the contrast the earthy owl’s soft whooing against the sharp cries of the coyote. i imagine the owl is the sound of the feathered clouds slowly floating over the moon, while the coyote’s calls are the stiff branches of the dried california live oak branches, reaching up in vain to the august sky…reaching for rain that never comes.
Image Credit: The Daily Coyote
The Oaxacaborn Blog 