This Wilderness Life @thiswildernesslife - Tumblr Blog

I'm listening for cicadas in winter... knowing they're sleeping, but I'm unable to stop believing I might hear them calling to each other from seasons that have passed or have yet to come. - Peregrine

There’s this YouTube channel called “Below the Plains” where this guy goes around in the Dakotas picking spots to dig just to see what he finds ... a shattered pharmacy bottle, a silver plated hurricane lamp, a fragment of a glowing, blue-glass cold cream jar, the lid to an ornate, blown-glass candydish, a porcelain doll head, covered in cracks… Four feet, five feet, eight feet down … a perfume bottle… Maybe this is the best way to love… to lay you down and uncover the broken and the beautiful… to let light move down in the deeps of you… down in the dark... down where you have no say… no say in how much you show, in how much I see. No say in how much you feel. - Peregrine

...and so I will send this into the void like a haiku from a Japanese master, wandering the winter landscapes in 1691, like a romantic sonnet from the 1820’s. I will send this like a Bohemian poet writing free verse in Paris in the 1920’s, like a stream of consciousness beat poem set to broken rhythms after the world wars. I’ll let the words move through time until they reach you, until they find you, however unlikely that may be. However far-off-hanging-winter-moon that may be. - Peregrine

An easy dinner and easy conversation… and then the dishes, our hands busy, our bodies, our words and our eyes, bumping in our nearness. And later, later you slip your quiet slowly into me until I haven’t any words at all. - Peregrine

Like a worry stone, I touch you to calm myself. I could hide in you if you’d let me, but you don’t. Instead, you draw me… you talk me out of myself, like poison from a wound. - Peregrine

Somewhere is the moon, carried on the breeze of you... Somewhere are the stars and planets and the dark of you, married to my heart, married to the very soul of me. - Peregrine

I will give you the last little bit of summer off the tip of my tongue... like honey and apples at the end of all seasons... in the quiet before when everything begins again. -Peregrine

It’s the way you think… I want to see it happen. I want to feed you conversation and kisses and watch you wring them until your brand of light spills out, until what's inside of you, blooms inside of me. I want to see it face to face, the way you think, the way you twist the wet out of words and lay them down between us, drying in the sun. - Peregrine

There is far away and there is gone. There is dark and there is new moon on a slow rain September night. There is need and there is this... this crush of midnight distance, this hush of unending silence... this... hole of language in my heart where you belong. - Peregrine

You are the size of under my hand. You are the weight of the kisses we hunt and kill and skin for their pelts... You are the shape of the fire in which I burn. - Peregrine

On the off chance that your left hand happens to be free at the moment, I wonder if you could pretend it's mine... Brush it up across your cheek, enter the hair above your brow, then slip the backs of your nails down along your right breast through the fabric of your shirt... Can you slowly trace your inner left thigh and then, just let your hand/my hand lie, warm and soft in your lap... present but silent, needful but still, all mine but all yours to move... Just as I am all yours to move. - Peregrine

Sometimes, wind chimes, during a low, meandering breeze, emit a sub-tone, a low-moan in the background, more sensed than heard... like peacefulness infecting the sky. And it reminds me of the way thoughts of you move in me all day long... underneath the work, underneath the Zoom crawls and staff calls... like endless, satisfied sighs. - Peregrine

babyfoxcollectionthings

As I touch you, as I kiss you, let your soul roam the surface of your skin. let your worries and your past and future breathe out against me until you're empty of everything but now. - Peregrine

Afterward, you write in longhand, in cursive, in another language from the one we've been speaking, a language without a voice, a language of claim and deed, of refrain and tease... your eyes following the words the way your body follows mine, your finger never rising from the page of my skin. - Peregrine

I am surrounded by frequencies of light I cannot see, frequencies of sound I cannot hear. So many things are odorless... or have no taste to them... It’s touch... It's touch that saves me... Your breath on my neck, your skin beneath my hand, beneath my lips... the way you move against me... What other sense but touch can I ever trust. What always puts us right in the darkness, what connects us, what can we always give to each other, even on our poorest day... but touch... Touch is the way love is pronounced, the way longing tastes... is the way loneliness smells. Touch is the only way to prove what we see... What do all our other senses call us to do... but touch. - Peregrine

Silence has a shallow root, it’s difficult to grow and easy to remove; but oh, the beauty of its bloom is worth the work to know. - Peregrine

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

This Wilderness Life