weavings
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- 2020-Icelandic, alpaca, Merino and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic, alpaca, Merino and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic, alpaca, Merino and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic, alpaca, Merino and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic, alpaca, Merino and other wool, cotton
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- 2020-Icelandic and Merino wool
- 2020-Icelandic and Merino wool
- 2020-Icelandic, alpaca, and Merino wool
- 2020-Icelandic, Merino and other wool
- 2020-Icelandic and Merino wool
- 2020-Icelandic, alpaca, and Merino wool
- 2020-Icelandic and Merino wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic, Merino and Other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic and Merino wool, cotton
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- 2020-Icelandic, Merino and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic, Merino and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic, alpaca, Merino and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic, alpaca, and Merino wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic and Merino wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic, Merino and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic and Merino wool, cotton
- 2020-Merino and other wool
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- 2020-Icelandic, Merino and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic and Merino wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic, Merino and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic, Merino and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic and other wool, cotton
- 2020-Icelandic, Merino and other wool, cotton
brooches
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poetry
invincible
Sometimes we play pretend. We imagine we're invincible. We stumble, Over laces, Left untied, Because they're visible. Mem'ries on a shelf, That someone else, Has labeled fictional. There, beside the chronicles, And X-rays that, Define us all. We crawl beneath, A cloak, We claim, Will make our scars invisible. We fly to outerspace, Where the gravity is livable. And though the air is thin, And the loneliness, Formidable. We'd rather lose our breath, Than the belief that we're, Invincible.
cliff face
These eyes are set, In the face of a cliff. Relentless and exposed, It is, The only home, I've ever known. The revolutions, In the waves, Insisting, That I wake, To greet them. Inside I stir, A revolution, Hoping it will rise, To meet them. I let the thrashing waters, Strip away the fear, They latch onto. I make my peace, With parts of me, Exhibited by, Sun and sea. And as my substance, Lessens, Lessons deepen my, Humanity— Which crosses, Land and sea, To see, This view, Which I, Have fought to keep.
window pains
Windows— Peer into the windblown scene, Of a rock face, Effaced by the unforeseen. And the panes, That divide us, Are pains I've not known, Burning hot, In the glare, Of a sun turned to stone. And the sea, That I've seen, Tips me off to your thirst, In the knowledge, That knowing, Is little more than, A curse. As I watch, The winds blowing, Through blistering glass, And my hand pulls away, Though my heart pushes back. And at times, I catch sight, Of my eyes, In the light, That returns— Chased away, By the darkness inside. Like a note, Passing through, These impassable walls, Saying “we are both human”, And “one day they'll fall”.
in sight
When a shrowd has veiled, The luxury of our distraction. And a turn has quelled, The fire fueling interaction. When the faint of heart have flocked, To artificial light, And the spent surrendered, To the loss of sight. When what lies in sight, Becomes what lies inside, The courageous will enwrap, Themselves in night. And gaze upon the stars, Which, in their pensive way, Reveal to us the shadows, Undisturbed by day. For in such company, They beam unhindered, And glimmer as they, Turn our blind eyes inward.
fossils
Tomorrow they'll awake, In the condition of today. Or perhaps what has eroded, Will then fall away. Captives of a moment, Or of imperfection, Afraid to glimpse the chains revealed, In their reflection. A fossil has no growth, And finds no hope in dawn, Even in such newborn warmth, It cannot thaw. Starved of the fulfillment, Growth instills within— The thrill of being someone, You have never been. It hungers to be full, Of that which lies without. Empty of the present, It devours doubt. How cramped the world becomes, When we have known it all, For he who claims to know his world, Has made it small.
dancer
Instinct interprets, The words in the waves, And they echo in her limbs. Her brave disposition, Endorsed by her grace, She is, Half captive, Half free. Lungs welcome Then drown— In the melody. Though gravity, Calls her, Away from the leadings, Of words, That are bleeding, Through pages, Unturned. She, In her yearning, To read, Carries on, As if fireproof, Objects could burn. And they do, In her wake. There is nothing at stake, And yet everything, Breaks, As she tears it apart. The music, Once bound by, Our ignorance, Found, To be myriads, Of pieces, Some mind, And some heart. And this is the trial, The dancer must face, When the music becomes, A familiar place.
stir (excerpt)
Does it feel extreme, To flee from, Constellations? To feel that, Each connection Is an imitation, Lonely, Solitary star... You are not a guide, To wand'ring worlds within the mind. Extend an olive branch, Or hold a candle to the sun, And you will understand. The earth beneath her feet, Spent cent'ries drifting, Long before she stood to, Feel it shifting— Plates to feed the, Nomad, she, Will rise to be.
sunroom (excerpt)
In this sunroom, The windows are walls. Softly, they whisper, “A world lies beyond”. And these veins, Of mine, Strain, And stretch thin, In the wake, As a heart starts to race, As I pace— In these six square feet of space. Through the Ivy, I soak in the sun. Shadows, remind me, Of battles I've won. And this mind, Of mine, Spins, As I circle, The track, And its gardens I've grown, And cut back— I'll retrace with gall and grace. Through the glass I see, Fear with fresh eyes. Would you believe that, It's hope in disguise? And I yearn, To see, Life, With the sun in, Between, Where our planet stands now, And will be. Future is my hiding place.