14. read care(full)y

i suck the thin paper cut on (my) index finger from truth. recently reading the (body) of the bookshelf.  licking the salty poems of bianca stone. cuddling the correspondence of friendship and encouragement within “letters to a young poet.” buying excess band aids as i flip the pages of leora tanenbaum’s “i am not a slut.” the word spat on street corners near grocery stores and in school hallways. the queasiness of this word like chewing on a nerf bullet. during my afternoon of rooftop picnicking, i stare at the (composed) sky and think of childhood museum visitations. women who fell from the sky. the unembarrassed lines of figures in folds of fabric dripping from limbs. the surprise of wall to wall stone or pigment. and the DO NOT TOUCH signs. educating the value (of) supervised artwork. if only the average person walking down the street also realized themselves as precious (art).  as profuse societies. just some thoughts.

xoxo,

mute style

creative video thing

1:35:11

cotton cosmos carrying a tv to the roof in a downpour. binged under eyes and lady lamb’s album playing back. 45 entries stamped like a sugar cookie cutter fly shaped. the whir of a travelers memories. the backup disk full of paced meadows and sands. Continue reading

You

DSC_1623.JPGAnd just like that, three generations of pink cardigans walked North on Normandie Ave. This strange sense of timing and placement washed my mind as I continued along the sidewalk. The randomness of people shuffling by felt oddly calculated. I have no idea who they were or where they were headed but visually I was completing some strange image. Somedays remind you more than others of your very presence in this world. Impact. Moments happen for a reason. And I suppose today I needed an extra reminder. I wandered back to my apartment with my head dizzy from thinking. I seemed to be repeating “this guy.” This guy. This guy. And I don’t know if it’s my Midwestern accent or a momentary sore throat, but it started to sound like “the sky.” The sky. The sky. This color calming intuition. The blue above reminds me of you. The result: this poem.

xoxo,

Mute Style

Daily poems and ramblings on Instagram

Inspiration Intellect

What is inspiration and more importantly how do you capture it? For me, inspiration is hidden in the dandelion side-walk and the hum of cicadas. It is caught in the melody and shared in a snapshot. Ah, inspiration. It is in an activist art project such as Molly Gochman’s #redsandproject. It is in Kamala Markandaya’s sweet words required for class. Empathy. Understanding. Swapping traditional recipes with your international friends. Helping others with their assignments. Going outside to appreciate the beautiful migrating flocks stream through the sky and the tickle of grass blades. Freeing yourself from expectation. Sharing ideas and letting your mind wander. Inspiration is there waiting; be brave and grasp it.

XOXO,

Mute Style

p.s.

What inspires you lately? Comment and share below!