String Me Along

I am a fiber artist who finds beauty in worn out things and promise in something as simple as a snipet of string or a scribble on a scrap of paper. A tree-hugging, faerie lover who, as my brother would tell it, ate too many crayons as a child. This is a blog of the words and images that speak to me.
You stoke so so so much emotion in me—the burning, I know it best from childhood, of feeling too much too strong unrelenting, and no one body can hold it; but it’s too too too much for any words, no way to write or speak or read it.

I have words for everything. I have words always. You make me burn speechless. I want to hook my fingers in your back and tell you everything with blood. I want hold your chin and make you look, look long in my eyes until you know everything I’m feeling. I love you. I fucking love you.

I love you with intensity that starts religions.
Magick, in essence, is the ability to communicate to the universe what you want in an effective way, so that the universe can then respond and create what you desire.
I know her in the daylight.
How her voice leaves a place,
a fluttering cymbal beneath
my breast. I examine her
hands, and put them in
my hair which last night’s birds
never leave.
- Beckian Fritz Goldberg, from “Eve,” In the Badlands of Desire (Cleveland State University Poetry Center, 1993)
You see, some things I can teach you. Some you learn from books. But there are things that, well, you have to see and feel.
Angry people want you to see how powerful they are. Loving people want you to see how powerful you are.
- Chief Red Eagle (via cosmofilius)

(via ginger-haze)