Saturday, December 16, 2017

three songs, with love. :) xo

angel | fire + rain | wind cries.

closing out 2017 on w. 47th street. [12/15/17]

with kind regards and love always, hippie lou

[to view/listen/experience, click here]

Monday, December 11, 2017

but others have not been so lucky.

Hi hippie Lou-

Thanks for the email!

Last week on Monday night I was evacuated from my house near midnight. The fire was burning on the hill right next to my neighborhood. My house did not burn down, yay! But others have not been  so lucky and the fire is threatening my school and the air quality is horrendous. It’s been a very strange, sometimes terrifying experience.

Thank you fir checking in. It is now safe for me to go home as the fire moves north.

I hope you are well!
xo

Friday, December 8, 2017

i'm always trying to bring
things to life;

and in so doing, to bring
myself to life;

but sometimes
things are dying

it's the very
nature of existence

can i bring myself
to dying?

and
why shouldn't
i feel dying
as much as

i feel living?

Monday, December 4, 2017

between two worlds.

to get to
the next one
you can't carry
too much
from the last.

travelers we
all are.

the eponymous
bee
cannot carry
the flower on
his back

so he carries
what he can
a grain

no need
to unroot
the flower
if even
he could

but to learn
the nature
of the flower
or the flytrap
or the delicate
moss
or the sticky sap

which
when bound
to wings
renders
flight
impossible

is to
carry something
forward too.

as heavy
or impractical
as a flower
on the back of a bee?

perhaps not.

the next world
beckons
as does the
last.

the bee
alights
if he
can.

Sunday, November 26, 2017

can one
fortitude
compensate
for seven
solitudes?

as several
atti
tudes
dance
in the
sun soaked
breezes
of our mind
's eye.

still raining
still dreaming

still raining
still dreaming

truly.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

getting bigger by the minute.

what if
all the ghosts
of your severed
relationships
got together
in one room?

it would be
a pretty big
room.

a pretty
big ship.

getting bigger
by the minute.

the ship
of ghosts
of
relationships
past.

can
i climb
aboard;
or
watch
from
afar

as they
stand at
the rails
calling out
or not.

their
mouths
moving
but i cannot
hear them.

gosh;
ppl you
were so so close to
so close
that you
could feel
the hot breath
of their
beating
heart-soul
energy
as
you
blew yours
for
that
moment in
time

until the
passing sun
or moon
as the case
may be
intervened
lighting
things
just a
bit differently

or, as
science
tells us,
the sun doesn't move
so perhaps
my motion
my spinning
relative to
other
bodies in
motion
shed new light
new shadows

i love
those ghosts
ghosts
though
they
may be.

i love
that
ghost ship
and i
ride on
many others
i'm sure

at the rail
gazing out
rolling, softly
on the
sometimes
tempestuous
sea.

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

but sometimes our lungs are weak and tired.

enthusiasm
for life
comes and
goes
i guess

sometimes
each little
moment
glistens
sometimes
not at all

sometimes
moments
one
knows
are
glistening
feel
muted,
dull;

can i hang
on just
one moment
more?

doesn't seem
like it
should be
such a chore

but it is
sometimes

sometimes.

this weird
thing we have

the ability
to animate,
truly.

the ability
to blow
words called
purpose and
meaning

into our
balloon called
life

but sometimes
our lungs
are weak
and tired

and sometimes
the air we
blow is leaden

or the air
the balloon floats
in is thin

like the death zone
on chomolungma

buoyancy has
its limits

in air
that is thin

the flow
over the wedge
creating lift

gets more tenuous;

to try to stay
aloft?

or return to thicker
air?

or just
"hang in there"

drifting
between
0 and 1

working to
find the seam

and once found
or stumbled upon
or bumped into

to let it settle
upon one's self
or spring from within

or meet in
the middle
at the seam
in the grain boundary
for a moment
or moments

whatever the
case might be?

or crash
to earth
burning?

or some other
malapropism?

that is the
question

yes,
that
is the
question

if one cares to ask.