a pleasant surprise

A man, probably in his mid-thirties, approached me on the deck of OPA, and confessed he was homeless as he attempted to hide his bagged beer from the passing baristas.

He saw me writing and asked if I wrote poetry. I said yes, and he proceeded to say some lovely poetic things about rain bringing new life, how Edgar Allan Poe and Dr. Seuss are his favourites, and how he would have asked me to lunch were it not for the fact that he would not be able to afford it.

We enjoyed each other’s brief company, and he kindly and sheepishly asked if he could have a little kiss, even on the cheek. I told him, as I have told a few recently, that I do not give kisses away so easily, but that I wished him well and urged him to continue to find the poetry in life.

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art inside & art outside: co-creating something beautiful in the middle of texas

My hair smells like wilderness, wind, and sunbeams. The curly waves feel like soft grass held together by the stickiness of sweat and morning dew. My soul has been kissed by the elements. My spirit is refreshed. My mind is clear. My heart is happy.

I watched the sun and moon rise. I painted, and spoke lovely words into the wind. Shared in moving conversations and embraces, with friends and so-called strangers. Had great wisdom bestowed upon me by people, clouds, trees, bugs, soundwaves, sunsets, and my inner wise self. I moved upon the Earth with my bare feet and sent prayers of healing down into Her core as I danced upon Her beneath the stars.

I let go.

Went into quiet contemplation. Sat in my solitude. Was present with others. Witnessed and heard extraordinary feats of human creativity.

It felt like home to me.

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7 hours on a gray day

“Climate is what we expect, weather is what we get.”
Mark Twain

I have been sick and trying to stay inside today, but I’m having an issue with the stud in my nose. It was a gift from a lovely lady friend in celebration of my most recent birthday.

I call up the tattoo parlor on Red River where I got it pierced a few weeks ago, and they tell me to come down and get it taken care of.

I think it’ll be quite nice to get outside a bit and ride the 7 downtown on this rainy, cloudy day. I hop on, and I have my copy of ‘American Gods’ by Neil Gaiman in my lap; my favorite find amongst a multitude of treasures I discovered at a clothing swap on the east side this past weekend.

I also found a gray animal print sweater and purple suede boots, which I’m wearing. I probably look fancier than I mean to, but I simply like wild prints and the color purple.

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