Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio Bright Elusive A lifeline, a toy, a reasonto come,drawn from the ether,into being. Clean-slated but not really;formed by twocracked vessels with smokeof 10,000 things trailing. All things are bornwith a soul,but soul’s are finickyand chug off if doused with pesticide. For what did Pinocchio yearn but for his soul?Clambered down fromhis…
Author: Lisa or Li
mother, grandmother, gardener, observer of nature, reader, writer, learner, bicyclist, woman who runs with the wolves, lover of music, philosophical daoist. Welcome.
#FF — Earth’s Overlords
PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox Earth’s Overlords Concrete cannot withstand them. Water hastens them. Eating them slows them, but herbivores can eat only so much. Wood gives way with persuasion. Metal withstands, but rust eventually conquers it. Humans have taken to the waterways. We go ashore periodically, seeking sources of meat, fruit, and herbs. Mycellial…
#MMB 19 — (repost) (was: “Gardenia,” from Post Pop Depression, by Iggy Pop (2016))
[Post Pop Depression] discuss[es] issues of what happens when your utility is at an end, and dealing with your legacy. – Iggy Pop Hello everyone. It is a real honor and pleasure to be invited to Hans’ song draft. Being a person who likes patterns and order, I was trying to figure out how to…
Fitness — 19+ mile bike ride today
Today was a beautiful day for a bike ride and I refused to be distracted by the computer because that’s how a day gets wasted. I had a plan to ride to my favorite cafe and back and enjoy lunch at the halfway point. It was almost unbelievable the number of flowering trees in bloom. …
dVerse — Prosery — Tomorrow’s Sacred Space
Something told the wild geese It was time to fly. — by Rachel Lyman Field, from Something told the wild geese Tomorrow’s Sacred Space For a thousand generations we’ve welcomed their return to the spring-fed lake when their wintering grounds told them to fly home. Their petroglyphs skein the cave walls. Migratory residents, they’re also…
The Oracle Speaks — Stilled Seed
“Neuron,” by Roxy Paine stilled seed drive ache from need run through a thousand sleeps on wind with summer beneath feet by these, head’s waxy recall lies stilled seed over mad music
Tao Talk 