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don't call me hip
BROOKLYN. writer, musician, farmer's market enthusiast.
i love local apple cider, reading nabokov, writing poetry. soy lattes that are made properly make me swoon. if i could have any job in the world, i'd make perfume. i play the violin, adore the ocean, and am in love with the smell of burning maple leaves. and the feeling you get when you're standing outside before a big storm (the wind moves through you).
FOLLOW MY BAND ON TWITTER: https://twitter.com/#!/WoolyandMammoth
FOLLOW MY BAND ON TWITTER: https://twitter.com/#!/WoolyandMammoth
~ Thursday, April 19 ~
~ Wednesday, April 18 ~
~ Tuesday, April 17 ~
love last
lover’s last whispered breaths linger on the wind
rather than skin – yours or mine
lover loved and loving beside your body
while your mind runs above the waves, a ghost
within my grip – weathered heart
withers pumping the red of life, the last
love, baubles or monsters in the night to kick
in silence at love’s last many petaled blooms
drop white silk tears from limbs
or my finger tips (drawn to your skin, tracing the arches,
the sighs and the breaths)
after your flesh and last – eye-locked smiles, embers
in my hands glorious warmth wrapped legs around
keeping you near – broken-hearted wandering into me and last
holding on or love, property and poster,
slow the fall though i’ve already arrived, in shadow, ginger –
commodities wrapped in black, blue-bruised, the will to survive
or at least to breathe, letting yourself at last to feel something – comfort,
loyalty or love’s last creaking sigh, the boards by the door,
your elbows
rather than skin – yours or mine
lover loved and loving beside your body
while your mind runs above the waves, a ghost
within my grip – weathered heart
withers pumping the red of life, the last
love, baubles or monsters in the night to kick
in silence at love’s last many petaled blooms
drop white silk tears from limbs
or my finger tips (drawn to your skin, tracing the arches,
the sighs and the breaths)
after your flesh and last – eye-locked smiles, embers
in my hands glorious warmth wrapped legs around
keeping you near – broken-hearted wandering into me and last
holding on or love, property and poster,
slow the fall though i’ve already arrived, in shadow, ginger –
commodities wrapped in black, blue-bruised, the will to survive
or at least to breathe, letting yourself at last to feel something – comfort,
loyalty or love’s last creaking sigh, the boards by the door,
your elbows
drawn up last in the dark love – i whisper sweet as trees
as city-bound, full of longing for more and need
for always asking for more
transparent as daybreak melting outside of your window predawn
alone and next to you alone loving last
for last love’s an anchor sinking deep, the depth of me
as city-bound, full of longing for more and need
for always asking for more
transparent as daybreak melting outside of your window predawn
alone and next to you alone loving last
for last love’s an anchor sinking deep, the depth of me
2 notes
Posts that have made me click the 
button
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might get a tattoo soooooon
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me with dane cook last night…I asked him post a status on my (personal) facebook.
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le bite marks
