Appreciation of Life as Story
between pixels and polaroids crumpled edges and faded lines they say she is mysterious in a childlike way where blueberries stain her faint laced hem as she traces lines in the amber sand to glimpse the mica shine a mind that wanders and plucks with lack of Zen or Tao or any know-how and that […]
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the horizon clean of thoughts and dreams i take my ease bared to the misted delight of twilight . © M.G. Iannucci 2018 Photo is mine
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you are, my depth and insight, personified. . © M.G. Iannucci 2018 A rose from my garden.
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you temper and I yield white flame and steel . © M.G. Iannucci 2018 Art by Chris Maher
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bound to the body once smothered by dust, eons of mistrust wove the blanket of regret, allowing them to spit on my beauty. . grabbing with a tenacious greed they sought the seed, the reflector of seismic activity that sutures the rift with a stiff and swift generative current, threading the cavernous abyss from the […]
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inhabiting lifetimes in a single breath, beyond the grasp of birth and death, i exist to wed the foundational energy that forms the sculpture referred to as “me”. . my flesh, Love kneads as it carves its name in my bones, with the deep and reverent tone, a delicate celestial filigree. i am the scrimshaw […]
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she lived a Love that appeared as poverty, radiant in her simplicity. without a need for heaven, she danced on the points of the diadem. . © M.G. Iannucci 2018 Photo: A columbine in my garden. The body goes where the soul knows.
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he looked at me and said, “don’t settle”. you are made of a fierce mettle, woman, you have long to live, strong. life is a fearsome thing, yet never forget, as a mother and lover the power you bring”. his tattoo winked, and i saw the grief, of broken promises and lies. “choose yourself instead”, […]
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orange zest and lavender violets pressed to the undersole of a fruitless quest to conquer an unknown the guest of fate and causal effect that i arrange through circumspect one foot over the line as i look back at the bead which traces neck to hip a story enscripted in the felt sense of presence. […]
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joy nests in my breast, furled in the marrow of these fluted bones, it swells in the absence of turbulence. sighing a melody of freedom from illusion, love’s price for evolution, a tender wind caressing summer’s upturned leaves. the transpiration of subtlety, is the knowing presence of soul energy, to remain there i will clip […]
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