ash nomme i am nothing like i used to be i was never this light this wind worthy never had i known such fire never before 030824 ... Fido O pretty ash You are so thin, And put in the proper bin, You say what you said before again. 040922 ... tilt ash ashes ashishu. bless you. 051110 ... nom blue: the_fire 051110 ... insouciant Emptiness vast enough Climbing a mountain And swallowing each rock Flattening down to a plain Would not fill I have hugs, loves, friends Care as hard as i give But no matter oblivion remains Grotesque, lamentable thing Anguish and greed The ghoul thrashes, Left alone for half a minute Shame on me Should i want When i have Everything Where does the void end? How can I miss something i hold between my hands? I’m exhausting Burning everything i touch Leaving barren black soot and grey ash In my wake Who could possibly love something so empty? 220804 ... ovenbird I was caught by this section in David Whyte’s poem “The Journey” from his collection The House of Belonging: Sometimes with the bones of the black sticks left when the fire has gone out someone has written something new in the ashes of your life. I think about how long the fire was cold in the grate of my chest. I think of the way you picked lengths of charcoal from the sediment and handed back the power to shape words inside myself. Maybe I am writing in the ashes of my own life now. And maybe you are too, in the ashes of yours. I worry about wind, how it can carry ash so fast and far, wiping out even the memory of flames. I worry about stirring up what’s left of me, about embers tumbling into the grass and setting everything on fire. Will my own vital spark burn my life to the ground? I might be better at smouldering than flaring, carrying my heat like a secret hidden deep in my hearth. But it leaves me vulnerable. If you feed me even the tiniest scraps of tinder, I blaze, and threaten everything. If I’m burned at the stake of my own longing, please write an ending that braids a wick from strands of irrational hope. 261003 what's it to you? who go blather from