Jess Hill

In the morning, we flee to Mothlandia.
Where we’ll peek through the wings of strangers hearts and in the name of magic and we’ll sing!

Follow us.
Ask the little bird for directions.
Tweet! Tweet! Tweet! 

posts and beams
wood and steam
iron claws
roof and walls
softening soil for the seeds
melting pennies
burning leaves
bramble tangle
morning glory
a snip a slice a cut a chop
what it was it now is not
what we do we only guess
what we want we can’t address
what we have, forgotten love
wet from crying clouds above

This is amazing…from the core of the heart and echoing for all time.

“YEARS, (2011). A record player that plays slices of wood, translating year ring data into incredible piano music
by reading the “grooves” with a PlayStation Eye Camera and processing its output through Ableton”. By Bartholomäus Traubeck.

YEARS from Bartholomäus Traubeck on Vimeo.

…a nod to my friend with the fox tongue for posting this. ❤

…and this…
THE FORGOTTEN CIRCUS

i am taking natures cues
with last weeks deep freeze
i let my heart grow cold and hunkered down beneath a mountain of wool and rubbed my feet back and forth as if I was trying to start a fire
i stayed in, hiding under the weather
watching it from the warmer side of drafty panes of glass
and  waited to thaw.

this week there is a promise of rain….and more rain
after just 24 hours of it,
a daydream….
if I were to cry enough my tears would suddenly become prisms falling and reflecting the light

my heart is warmer and all things frozen will thaw and begin again to meander, filling the tight corners of time

the return to fluidity
the softening of sharp thoughts and tongues
the awakening of the seeds of spirit
the to grow and flourish.

LOVE