I have been dreaming strangely, of touching bright fresh wounds and of hiding inside trees and of butterflies living in my mouth. I am taking these dreams seriously, and they have many babies that I carry with me for much of the day.
So here is a bird. It wasn’t in my dream but perhaps tonight it might.
Here here, look, are some prints that are shortly for shipping, and also an original drawing of a lump that will be hidden in a random order, so if you want a beast of mine and perhaps an original draw then you should order something soon, because they will fly away tomorrow.
I hope you are all brave in the belly and the bloods.
I have prints of those two birds up there, and other beasts, which you can look at and buy if you follow this clickerlink. I shall be shipping orders in a few days and I shall hide this original drawing, lump, in one of the envelopes. So if you buy a thing you may also find this lump of love.
Sometimes people need the birds that I know. And they order them and I send them and then things are better and gentler and more. I am glad they safely made it.
The rain is falling hard enough to keep a consistent hush. No croon or twill from the trees. The mail brought me even quieter birds and a book that keeps simple what is pressing. Thank you littleworries and howitzerliterarysociety for this. They are cherished
I have prints now, of these little ones. And if you are the gentle sort they can be found and ordered and gotten by clickingthisclicker.
I fell over in a bit of a bad way. I was stuck on the floor for a terrible long time and I was worried about someone coming to get me. And also about nobody coming to get me. We should each choose a person to check on and then they will be ok and also there will be someone to check on us and we will be ok.
I found a nice little pile of codeine and things are much less trouble now.
i can’t help but always think you are so sweet and tender and small and that i would want to hold your quivering hand or place my eyes in yours and see what is ticking in you. thank you for your art and words. — dampforestkisses
It is difficult to know how much space I fill. And it feels like it takes a particularly disordered mind to know so little about it. There are ways to get a glimpse of it, a bare measurement of it. You know how much of her can leak in to your mouth. You know how close to the fire you can live. And you know the river couldn’t keep you hidden for long.
Beyond that though, it is a confusing wound. Thank you for saying things.