tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103403432024-03-13T13:03:51.523-07:00OUTLASTING MOTHSRachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.comBlogger1425125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-2398803933963613862022-07-16T16:31:00.002-07:002022-07-16T16:34:22.835-07:00At First, It Seemed...Some days she woke up in a body <div>that wasn't hers, in a space </div><div>she'd never been before and heard</div><div>a voice:
<em>I am here to test you</em>.</div><div><br /></div><div>It took her weapons:
her heart, her mind,</div><div>her vocal chords.
And like a teacher, its shadow </div><div>followed her
to the ends of the earth </div><div>or at least to the corners
of her world </div><div><br /></div><div>whispering</div><div><em><br /></em></div><div><em>I have loved you more</em></div><div>
<em>than you are worth</em>.</div>Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-47805715045192610472021-11-20T12:30:00.004-08:002021-11-20T12:30:44.117-08:00Paradise CityBrilliant night after night, all-glowing<div>Paradise City where all stars are carefree, </div><div>huddled in their chemical mixture of darkness and light,<br />
sweetness and demon, the stubbornly instinctual<br />
desire to survive. <br />
<br />
Is it time to carry the burden, the rose's fangs,<br />
the poisonous butterflies, the ever-changing masks<br />
that smile and grimace instinctually, to embrace<br />
the decomposition on the shortened road<br />
<br />
to demise?<br />
<br />
Memorize the condition of heart and shallow,<br />
trauma, euphoria, the dream-like feeling<br />that you can do anything when you can't. The dynamic<br />
of slash and tolerate- the improvisation of chaos-<br />
<br />the insufferable danger of grave-<br />
the kind you're buried in.<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-31476326868645763382021-11-20T12:26:00.000-08:002021-11-20T12:26:01.451-08:00Her Facefirst of all, I love the earth on which my mother's<br />
feet once walked, shed skin cells everywhere,<br />
a place I know, the sloping hills, the small white<br />
house, the sound of its joy, its suffering<br />
her hands, her heart inside.<br />
<br />
They say God giveth and taketh away,<br />
I know He also moves, re-arranges, transports,<br />
condemns, forgives. My mother's face,<br />its light, its lack of fear, its unbending faith. <div>How she sang about<br />
<br />
her love, her life in a rainstorm while I<div>remember its open windows, the cool<br />
dark winds, the clouds moving<br />
like a family of wolves<div>hunting.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div></div></div>Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-76971792036702480582021-11-20T12:21:00.003-08:002021-11-20T12:21:35.110-08:00BlurOnly when <i>blurred </i>we<i> </i>see more clearly<br />
translucent strings connecting everything to everything<br />
<br />
to everything,<br />
<br />
the chair to table to rug, the sleeping dog, the open window,<br />
the shadowy creaky forest, its watchful, uncivilized creatures<br />
through the needles of evergreen<br />to the ominously sleepless moon in its primitive bed<br />
<br />
and each star, each star<div>a shimmering web whose spiders,<br />
dark holes, weave chaos and birth <div>into infinite traps.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div></div>Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-75879098712343242962020-11-16T13:55:00.001-08:002020-11-16T13:55:23.044-08:00So Who are We?They left me; even I left<br />
me as a dress falls from its form,<br />
a ring slides easily off its finger, a man<br />
whose name is Death demands<br />
an open door. There is nothing<br />
<br />
left to hide. So who are we<br />
when walking alone in the snow,<br />
footprints of who we used to be<br />
frozen as if pointing the predator<br />
to the path of the hungry soul.<br />
<br />Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-11511703067820663922020-03-22T14:49:00.002-07:002020-03-22T14:49:20.586-07:00Now I Lie DownI know a lot about acceptance; it's taken<br />
a long time to acquire a sense<br />
of closure. But still<br />
<br />
when sleeping, a falling, fatal bird<br />
anticipates crash & crush, the last breath<br />
a strange forced song rushing forth<br />
<br />
away from memory; its silence demanding<br />
no apology, no calculation of loss, even less<br />
a determination<br />
<br />
of value. Even angels acknowledge limitation,<br />
submission and want; their hollowed, white winged<br />
prayers simply<br />
<br />
an instinctual act<br />
of submission.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-61068927740015083412020-03-22T14:31:00.001-07:002020-03-22T14:31:22.226-07:00This Habit<br />
There are a lot of different places<br />
to get your information; don't always look<br />
<i>here</i>. To the extent possible,<br />
<br />
look <i>inside</i>.<br />
<br />
You remind me of a silver lining<br />
in a black coat; why don't you listen<br />
before you hide what's beautiful<br />
<br />
about you?<br />
<br />
How many people have you infected<br />
struggling to immunize who you love<br />
with who you are afraid of...<br />
<br />
this <i>habit</i>?<br />
<br />
This is me closing a large door<br />
with stones in my pockets; I can't<br />
see you but I can feel<br />
<br />
the weight.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-49810050998150972282019-12-22T11:55:00.000-08:002019-12-22T11:55:00.991-08:00Dark, Hungry HappyIs it gone, the dark, hungry dragon<br />
turned into a small voiceless bird? Unbearable<br />
to be so happy<br />
<br />Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-40745214224505062192019-07-14T12:11:00.000-07:002019-07-14T15:05:51.920-07:00Through and ThroughIs it really about life? <i>Always</i> about life?<br />
Some say it's more about love and how faithful<br />
you are. I knew you once, but I didn't<br />
<i>know</i> you. I didn't love you then<br />
<br />
and then I did- for awhile.<br />
<br />
Look through the long window, see green,<br />
all green, until you don't. The sky, overhead<br />
hears our prayers each night and methodically<br />
forgets them; deaf in its thick, grey vest<br />
<br />
the moon has other things to worry about.<br />
<br />
Each star sings its singular hymn of light,<br />
a constant choir, so constant we cannot hear it,<br />
like the rush of cars on the freeway or the chatter<br />
of children in a play-yard or a tv left on<br />
<br />
in the dark.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-67105585251348498112019-07-06T15:54:00.001-07:002021-03-15T19:25:09.739-07:00Delicious LoveI remember the cat with her crooked teeth<br />
and the wolf with teeth like jagged pearls<br />
<br />
who ate her.<br />
<br />
And I loved the wolf for his hunger,<br />
his honesty, without plate or fork<br />
or napkin or insincerity.<br />
<br />
Who knows what the wolf<br />
will consume next- the unmoving stars,<br />
the watchful moon, the lazy cow sleeping<br />
<br />
in the field, the crazy fox chasing<br />
roosters like children playing tag<br />
on a warm afternoon.<br />
<br />
Nothing really disappears<br />
even when it should. The most important<br />
thing is love- and who says love<br />
isn't love even if it tastes good?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-47478531498318930302019-07-06T12:13:00.000-07:002019-07-06T12:15:45.387-07:00All Things Invisible In wide open spaces we confess<br />
our love for all things missing. We have<br />
no secrets, no wounds, no burning destiny,<br />
no sacred tablets to deliver us<br />
<br />
from invisible.<br />
<br />
There is a story about a boy<br />
who swallowed light; it ate him<br />
from the inside, until he became light.<br />
<br />
On the subway, a woman cried out<br />
"Jesus!" and burst into flames;<br />
no one noticed the fire.<br />
<br />
In an alley, against a brick wall<br />
a man drank himself to death;<br />
beneath newspaper and garbage<br />
<br />
he disappeared.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-44592197866922767792019-07-05T13:20:00.000-07:002019-07-05T13:23:57.046-07:00Cultivating the SoulBehind an electric fence, the over-protected soul<br />
plays sullenly in its yard, sits often<br />
gazing out, planning escape,<br />
<br />
envisioning freedom.<br />
<br />
And what of wild souls roaming<br />
wood and vale, victims to the hunter's trap<br />
who covet what they wear<br />
<br />
and violently remove it<br />
<br />
or the wary soul, like frightened deer<br />
who stoop to drink the river<br />
with every muscle trembling<br />
<br />
incapacitated by their fear?<br />
<br />
What would we learn if each of them<br />
told the truth about their lives?<br />
<br />
I am not liberated, I am not<br />
the history of suppression; I am<br />
exactly where and what I'm meant to be,<br />
<br />
the horse who waits patiently<br />
for the open field, the saddle and whip<br />
draped across the fence like<br />
<br />
a patient teacher, the rider's knees<br />
pressed firmly against the chest,<br />
puts the animal through its paces, the crop<br />
<br />
resting on its flank<br />
ready to strike.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-20219972980342690952019-07-05T12:16:00.000-07:002019-07-05T13:39:23.067-07:00We Were Built for Ascension<br />
Barnacle goslings at two days old<br />
jump off 400 foot cliffs crashing into jagged<br />
rocks to reach the base, their wings tiny<br />
featherless thumbs, their bodies pliable,<br />
<br />
their instinct confident.<br />
<br />
Say plummet, density, gravity,<br />
say inevitable or courageous,<br />
say death but only temporarily; <br />
say "jump, fall, crash to ground<br />
<br />
but only briefly".<br />
<br />
You'll see, the dreaded descent<br />
won't last long<br />
<br />
like glancing in a mirror<br />
before saying goodnight,<br />
<br />
closing your eyes in the dark,<br />
oblivious the next morning-<br />
<br />
remember we were built for ascension,<br />
the bounce, the up and out, the dangerous<br />
<br />
graceful trampoline act where<br />
falling down always leads<br />
<br />
to rising.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-62369889896889726852019-06-30T18:59:00.001-07:002019-07-05T14:00:34.204-07:00The Weightlessness of BurdenThe nature of rain says "don't despair"<br />
as if it knows resignation.<br />
<br />
Perhaps it does<br />
<br />
flinging its tiny body into the mouth of flower,<br />
gliding down the spined bluegrasses<br />
<br />
sinking through ground<br />
to anonymity<br />
<br />
obedient to gravity.<br />
<br />
How like the best of us,<br />
the sacrifice, the tears.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-41581058707364475672019-06-29T15:50:00.001-07:002019-06-30T19:13:24.781-07:00Have YouNotice the <i>fractured </i>colliding; I'm here,<br />
you can tell me anything- the dreams of burning,<br />
becoming beautiful. How you wonder<br />
what happens to light when it ruptures<br />
into darkness. Each night's purple veins,<br />
its pulsing silence; not everything<br />
is visible. You've heard it too?<br />
I won't pretend I'm not frightened;<br />
neither should you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-21039426685469727642019-06-24T19:41:00.001-07:002019-06-24T19:41:28.862-07:00Mother of Pearl Set in SilverBehind the external I listen,<br />
an ear leaning in on itself<br />
and the <i>space </i>where I go<br />
<br />
to meet my mother.<br />
<br />
Prayers of a mother waken<br />
the daughter; no words<br />
but silent hands skillfully<br />
<br />
kneading the teat<br />
from its single rope of milk,<br />
a seamless, glittering string<br />
<br />
of pearls<br />
clanging rhythmically<br />
inside my silver skull;<br />
<br />
gone now<br />
<br />
like a season of flower<br />
or the rolling, broken buried<br />
shells beneath the sands<br />
<br />
whispers at night<br />
to the restless seas<br />
and sad, grey clouds<br />
<br />
<i>"Duty, my daughter, </i><br />
<i>is the quietness of soul </i><br />
<i>not the deafening doubt</i><i> </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>that delays your chores."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-80366203644507006842017-01-02T11:09:00.001-08:002017-01-02T11:09:56.389-08:00A Song of Things ForgottenThoughtful, her eyes and ears<br />
and mouth wrap around moment;<br />
a new child's fingers traveling over<br />
the curved skin of its mother<br />
smells milk, soap and bread<br />
<br />
vows to remember what cannot<br />
be remembered. In the night,<br />
a small wolf imitates his father,<br />
a weak howl, a song of earth<br />
and blood and struggle.<br />
<br />
It too will forget his father's eyes<br />
wordlessly shining through darkness<br />
a secret message of pride and fear<br />
much like stars, through pores of light,<br />
speak to those who are dying.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-21046478883261118562016-10-29T12:18:00.001-07:002016-10-29T12:18:18.016-07:00What Do You Think Love Is?We climbed the mountain, my feet<div>
remembering these never-changing stones,</div>
<div>
cragged vertebrae link past, present, future</div>
<div>
into spine. The wolves remember too, </div>
<div>
will die with this map of rope</div>
<div>
wrapped around their animal hearts </div>
<div>
like a mooring. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-31840202138471941632016-10-29T11:17:00.000-07:002016-10-29T11:17:23.342-07:00What is Trapped, BurnsI always knew this creature would devour<br />
and take me in; father's dark castle,<br />
my mother's fluttering wings and me<br />
inside the wolf's throat-<br />
<br />
a fractured bone.<br />
<br />
After the beast's journey light filters<br />
into skein; the animal's organs on fire<br />
from within. All night<br />
its taut glowing ligaments<br />
<br />
soften.Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-59162055548985849922016-02-11T07:40:00.000-08:002016-02-11T07:53:17.487-08:00The Freedom of SilenceEventually words become a net<br />
around the most irridescent thoughts.<br />
For now, I am letting mine run free<br />
like children in a summer's rain<br />
dressed only in their boots.Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-32677176868233997062015-05-31T13:40:00.001-07:002015-05-31T13:40:20.760-07:00Moth Hunters<div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<span data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;">A kind of gothic ritual, desert bats</span><br data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" /><span data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;">hunt night moths in seamless arcs;</span><br data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" /><span data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;">ash-white wings, the skeletal remains</span><br data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" /><span data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;">of cathedral windows, glass blown out.</span><br data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" /><br data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" /><span data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;">Nearly soundless, their claws crack</span><br data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" /><span data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;">soft backs like jaws crushing popcorn.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<span data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<span data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;">The moths, with sack-cloth coats</span><br data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" /><span data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;">and sad eyes reflect the sudden</span><br data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" /><span data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;">interruption of light and snap</span><br data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" /><span data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;">like tiny matches quickly</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<span data-mce-style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;">burnt out. </span></div>
Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-70884263620288734922015-05-25T13:27:00.001-07:002015-05-30T22:22:01.421-07:00FoxesIn the blindness of night, the invisible foxes<br />
gather around the farmhouse with voices of desperate<br />
babies left out in the forest to die. Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-71701165476536622372015-05-24T18:09:00.001-07:002015-05-24T18:09:23.685-07:00Taming the SoulThere is nothing left<br />
of the breaking wave; like a perfect wound<br />
its skin dismembers like an unwrapped bandage.<br />
<br />
Once carved from cloud,<br />
frothed with white air, its curves become formless;<br />
every evidence of wildness disappears.Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-12734738935518990512015-05-24T18:05:00.001-07:002015-05-24T18:05:40.284-07:00AfterlifeWhen no one was looking, shadows<br />
devoured the mottled brown moth,<br />
its tendrils and cloth. The housecat licks clean<br />
the remains on the windowledge-<br />
fine grey wing-dust.Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10340343.post-47365855803923359502015-05-23T22:00:00.001-07:002015-05-24T21:15:31.134-07:00Dutiful Cold<div class="post-body entry-content" data-mce-style="width: 510px; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;" id="post-body-1950419101804924835" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 510px;">
Arrested at the cathedral of pines<br />
on the ledge of the ice-bound river;<br />
here <span style="font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 1.4;">is where a sense of authority</span></div>
<div class="post-body entry-content" data-mce-style="width: 510px; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 510px;">
is corrected by nature-<br />
a sudden interrupted geography,<br />
the diminutive practice <span style="font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 1.4;">of standing still; </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 1.4;">not according to plan but intangible force.</span></div>
<div class="post-body entry-content" data-mce-style="width: 510px; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 510px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="post-body entry-content" data-mce-style="width: 510px; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 510px;">
Looking back on vaulted-snow hills,<br />
a coyote follows; he also stands fixed,<br />
understands the wisdom of surrender,</div>
<div class="post-body entry-content" data-mce-style="width: 510px; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 510px;">
a disciple of winter with one devotion-<br />
to belong there.</div>
Rachel Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18435252706998783690noreply@blogger.com0