I Am Not Composing Poetry. I Am Trying To Get Out Of The Flames.

“She was intelligent, and intelligent women mixed literature and poetry with love,”

— Anaïs Nin, from “Delta Of Venus,” originally published c. August 1977

My feelings are transparent, dangerously luminous, and they remain.

Edna St. Vincent Millay, from a diary entry written c. September 1911 (via violentwavesofemotion)

Ed van der Elsken : Pierre and Paulette (Kiss with Hand Around Cheek), 1951.

Lilac and star and bird twined with the chant of my soul, There in the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim.

Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass (via occasional-wolf-on-caffeine)

aries.. the world is filled with flying baby dragons, blowing ruby fire with birthday cakes, welcome to the world, the sky is covered in balloons, their wings from heaven still sewn on their backs, tiny battle swords in their hands, ready to defend their land

taurus… the air tastes like cinnamon and everything is edible, it tastes of coconut macaroons, money grows on trees, and nature sings songs… everything is cosy, and comfortable, an eternal twilight, beauty is eternal, dance is the walk of the gods

gemini… the world is thousands of little pixies flying with golden helmets and wings on their ballet shoes, messages are heralded across the sky, and rollercoasters loop through libraries so they grab a thousand books in a hurry

cancer… a giant half crescent moon hangs in the sky, illuminating the day and the night in gentle evening glow…the morning air tastes of vanilla icecream… shells are boats that transport people from place to place… the frost of snow so it can be blankets and cuddles…

leo.. the world echoes with babies giggling and the saxophones of broadway. the sun is shining, illuminating everything with silver crystals, red carpets are rolled before their feet… crowns are upon every head.. palaces line the street, and the footpaths are mirrors to reflect the exquisite beauty of every citizen

virgo… little elves fly with golden helmets and wings made of leaves.. tonics and curatives grow in green bottles from the trees… the air is fresh and the streets are clean… the earth is worshiped

libra… the air tastes of musk and strawberries and swallows fly in stunning circles, making music and art… the world is balanced on a set of scales… and everything falls when righteousness is not served… women run parliament, business, and the economics… valentines day is a day of glorious celebration

scorpio.. the world is surrounded by black sea, glowing with radioactivity… the walls around each house are high, security is important… wires connect to the cosmos transmitting psychic symbols and revelation… witches and druids line the streets with tarot, and zodiac, and empath healing sorcery

sagittarius… the world is filled with the colour, dance, and love of a thousand cultures, languages, and religions… temples hit the sky with arrows etched in the sky.. the dream of ascension in every resident… the gods and goddesses walk the street, retelling their stories in everyday life

capricorn… the world is cities lined in silver, surrounded in colossal mountains… with millions of clocks making music with time, wizards are the sherpers who guide the mountain haul, waiting on top is a slide from heaven to earth, so their mermaid tails can soak in the sea again

aquarius…UFO’s and spaceships zip through the sky, as people with fly with jetpacks and hoverboards.. the cities are light in flashing neon rainbows, and they swim in a sea of giant chemistry sets filled with swirling liquid glitter

pisces.. the world is a little darkened and it rains often, but the rain makes a lullaby, and it isn’t customary to wake until the evening… the cities are surrounded in milky water with mermaids emerging, calling and longing for their return into the sea, the place is timeless and they never awake from dream

-C.

“The Beguiled” (dir. Sofia Coppola, 2017)

I went to the beach with my 1957 Kodak Pony IV and all my photos came back super hazy and old-looking. It is okay if you want to pretend I took these is 1957

In rural Scotland you will stumble upon isolated houses in the most breathtaking locations and I entertain myself by making up stories about what the lives of the people inside are like. E.g. Byron and Mary live in that house with a Jack Russell named Rufus. Mary makes the sweetest blackcurrant pie and Byron takes his boat out nightly to placate the loch monsters with said blackcurrant pie. Loch monsters love pie, if you didn’t know. Rufus warns the couple of the land creatures that creep in the fog of the night. They live in contented (albeit occasionally chaotic) symbiosis with the cryptids.

Dreams 1990 ‘夢’ Directed by Akira Kurosawa, Ishirô Honda

Feelings are just visitors, let them come and go.

Mooji

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