the ugly earring

Sleep Chains

Who can sleep when she —
hundreds of miles away I feel that vast breath
fan her restless decks.
Cicatrice by cicatrice
all the links
rattle once.
Here we go mother on the shipless ocean.
Pity us, pity the ocean, here we go.

~anne carson

(photo by jean mohr: here)

From the stone history: Tourmaline was known by cenuries by the name schrol. Colored crystals were imported from Sri Lanka at the beginning of the 18th century.

During medieval days tourmaline was thought to heal physical and mental disorders as well as prevent death. Used as a gem for over 2,000 years.

In addition to its use as a gem, tourmaline is employed in pressure devices because of its piezoelectric properties. It has been used in depth-sounding apparatus and other devices that detect and measure variations in pressure.

The colored crystals of tourmaline are very strongly dichroic– i.e., they are of different color when viewed in the direction of different axes. Plates cut parallel to the vertical axis of a tourmaline crystal allow only the extraordinary ray through; if two such plates are placed in crossed position, the light is entirely blocked. A pair of these plates form a very simple polarizing apparatus known as tourmaline tongs.

Healing ability: Tourmaline calms nerves, regulates hormones, fights against genetic disorders. Tourmaline induces a tranquil sleep.

Schorl relieves arthritis pain, helps fighting heart diseases.

Mystical power: Tourmaline is said to dispel fear, negativity and grief.

According to legend, the tourmaline of all colors protects the wearer against many dangers and misfortune.
Rubellite: Is believed to enhance creativity, to increase fertility, to smooth away passive or aggressive nature.
Schorl: release anxiety, raises altruism, deflects negativity, neutralizes distorted energies, i.e. resentment and insecurity.

(dreamy: here)

“I’ve known you for years. Everyone says you were beautiful when you were young, but I want to tell you I think you’re more beautiful now than then. Rather than your face as a young woman, I prefer your face as it is now. Ravaged.”

— Marguerite Duras, The Lover

(photo from here)

“The child’s sob in the silence curses deeper than the strong man in his wrath.”
~ Elizabeth B. Browning

I am a student of wrens.
When the mother bird returns
to her brood, beak squirming
with winged breakfast, a shrill
clamor rises like jingling
from tiny, high-pitched bells.
Who’d have guessed such a small
house contained so many voices?
The sound they make is the pure sound
of life’s hunger. Who hangs our house
in the world’s branches, and listens
when we sing from our hunger?
Because I love best those songs
that shake the house of the singer,
I am a student of wrens.

(Baby Wrens’ Voices by Thomas R. Smith)

(continuing on the earth momma vibe and thinking of them with their beautiful swelling bellies.)

(photos from owlsnest)

If no-one ever marries me–
And I don’t see why they should,
For nurse says I am not pretty
And I’m seldom very good–

If no one ever marries me
I shan’t mind very much;
I shall buy a squirrel in a cage,
And a little rabbit-hutch;

I shall have a cottage near a wood,
And a pony all my own,
And a little lamb, quite clean and tame,
That I can take to town;

And when I’m getting really old,
At twenty-eight or nine–
I shall buy a little orphan girl
And bring her up as mine.

(If No One Ever Marries Me by Laurence Alma-Tadema)

Burning your farewell letter to me
As if you had not meant it
Yet with that strange smile.  As if you have meant
Something different

“last letter” by ted hughes

“Warm and sunny,” people said when speaking of California, but I knew it as a place where fear lived.

Now we were going there. We were crossing the desert to face that fear, and I was afraid.

(from: The Lonesome Gods by Louis L’Amour)

(photo: december 2004,  the rooftop of our old home in koreatown.)

p.s. our seedlings have sprung!

(found it first here and then went here and then found here)

(i had to keep this somewhere.)

(via reference library and download the book: hey beatnik, this is the farm book!)