HOME | DD
Ghrey — eyes 16
Published: 2011-01-11 06:43:27 +0000 UTC; Views: 302; Favourites: 7; Downloads: 2
Redirect to original
Description
if the sea had eyesit would always be looking
up sky's skirt
Related content
Comments: 22
Interesting... I didn't think of it in the context of gender...
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
thinking of most everything in terms of gender makes me uncomfortable
it makes everything seem like a power play, like a consequence of hegemonic heteronormative culture constructions that violate something or other
it makes me very uncomfortable because i always feel on the wrong side of things
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Hahaha!
I honor the divine masculine and the divine feminine in all their manifestations, and honor the differences between the two
And I honor that where they manifest is not always within the confines of societal norms...
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
i'm wondering what societal norms will be like a few years from now. i wonder if they will shift towards an actual, fuller understanding of femininity and masculinity (either classical daoism and confucianism informed or a child of modern gender languages, that which is in itself a language learned by many feminists and once learned spoken freely, but only understood by others who can understand the language) and if this understanding is possible by society at large
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Sometimes I feel very confused when people treat me like a lady because I don't relate to myself in terms of gender...
I also feel confused when people treat me like a grown-up. I'm not a grown-up!
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
i don't think i'm much of a grown-up either. i don't think i really act like it these days. though, i am trying at it. right now i'm staying up for the relay for life. i think i like being goofy, because i can get too serious, and so i think i make people uncomfortable.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Your arugala mother is sweating on my teapot!
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
your baby blue jumpsuit is dancing on the laundry line
👍: 0 ⏩: 2
and as he ran, his feet no longer fell upon the earth, instead falling upon the spiraling tendrils of color. wrapping themselves about his limbs, they lifted him dancing with him, spiraling with him. and then he was swimming through these tendrils of color as they held him with so much freedom and support, snaking into his body and out through his skin. and he opened his mouth to release sound and instead out came only more color. and all of a sudden he was frightened, for without a voice, what did he have to hold? and his fear began to turn the colored tendrils into shades of gray, as diverse as color and without color, and they no longer felt warm, they now felt cold and foreign, and yet still they held him. he grabbed at them and could not touch them, like grasping at rays light illuminating the dust motes through the window. and his fear began to transition into exhaustion, and the exhaustion began to transition into surrender, surrender to the cold gray shades enveloping him. and in his surrender, the gray colors began to feel board, and slowly released him gently onto the earth. and here on the earth he lay, folding into himself until he was as small as could be, knees to chest head tucked in. and here, he breathed, deeply...
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
polka dot ice cream on my baby poo dreams
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
effervescent seafoam clinging to my hotdog fingers
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Bloody dinosaurs dripping from the walnut cheese dresser drawers. Languidly.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
cheesy octopi waving cool whip brand oven mitts lasciviously, vivaciously caressing the candelabra on the fireplace mantle in the meantime
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Yes, tell brother why they ring the old boy in their smiley wedding inside ugly wild woman, and our heavenly spring cloud did his rain of pain running out by this sunshine?!
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
inside the ugly wild woman is a jungle that stretches from her belly to her toes and the animals inside rocked and shook with her every breathing and berating of the night and morning for her sleeping, and once she snored loud into the night that rocked the animals tightly wound and broke their stride that they lined singlefile to walk up her throat and out to the window by her cot across from the river and began to spread out into the forest around them. and the moon which shone somewhere else where there were more upright objects like lampposts and television sets listened carefully but couldn't hear a footfall from the animals fanning out in a circle from where they once huddled and stalked the jungle of the wild woman, free from the sound of her brain beating and heart churning but still the noise was carried with them on their shoulders and bones as they made footfalls of the grass of the forest. and as the heron tracked the hollow of the land rising alongside the tiger both beating with the same rhythm the heartbeat still with them the wild woman's breathing and churning spread out like a water or a letdown sun into the surrounding bringing the tones of their homes along with them, finding union finding communion in the slow circle of flatfoot beating the hippo especially the hippo had the most trouble walking out her tongue. and as the sun rose above them and tried to find them under a sea of trees covering their furrows of footfalls fleeing the scene of the empty jungle of the wild woman the rainwater was pulled from its shores, the shores of the oversmooth stones from lifetimes spent run over by cascading waters stones too smooth to toss back in without a pang of loss and something like sweet sorrow, and as the rainwater was pulled above the rain began to fall and fill the furrows with mud and wash the trails and fold over every crevice with new grass and wildflowers that softened and comforted the wailing of the ugly woman unwilded her jungle detached from her dismissive collective connection of her belly to her toes, and the rain comforted her, and the rain washed the jungle, and the rain carried their pain and her pain down through the river folding over the stones, brother
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
As their pain folded over the stones it absorbed deep into the earth under the river, dripping through sedementary layers, weaving spirals and arabesques. And the earth drank it up greedily, breathing it deeply in and exhaling grass and so many flowers. And the flowers grew brilliantly, radiating the many cosmic colors of pain. He picked a petal and wiped it across his skin, soft and moist, painting mystic calligraphy across the back of his hands. Holding his hand up to the sunlight, the colors glistened and danced, spinning off his skin and drifting gently back into place. As he began to run, the colors trailed off behind him in tye-dye tendrils of light...
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
the path drank in the heavy light
the light cast shadows on the streets, hungry
the light ate through the rhythm of his footsteps and left no sound
the sound went to the houses and came back
the sound circled around the bend and told him stories
the light whirled about his ankles as he bounced
the ankles bounced as he flew forward
the ground caught him at every footfall
the colors were gone and then came back
the trees shading the light brought back the colors
and he could see the whole of his path
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
years later i think it's peculiar how i gendered them so
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
