Eve Rounds

i don’t feel like writing…

and so i shall.

i’m sporadic with meditation. my fidelity, definition and “instructions” change frequently.  but somehow i have managed to connect with a new concept. thanks to a dear friend’s suggestion, i simply live in whatever i am feeling.

what i’ve discovered, is that i feel EVERYTHING in my chest. IT wraps ever so slightly around my rib cage and trickles down into my stomach.  neck knees hands are limp. toes are at ease.

my mind still burrows and revs, but the comfort in knowing that i will feel SOMETHING and that i know exactly WHERE anyallone of these feelings EXIST in my BODY, gives this infinite density a lightness.

a surprise in certainty.



a poem about you for you (and you)

you are your own though your temperament reminds me of him your head is more ripe mango while his was more soft plum my love

i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards


what did falling in love feel like to you actual falling a new winter sweater a blood flutter did you question its science or were you


sometimes the wind the waves muffle and drown my memories sometimes the wind the waves magnify and amplify the sound of your voice and clearing

the theatre

this is  a silent film flickering  catching  starting over emptiness surrounding such a blinding contrast ahead of us shared stories  captured images disconnected nonsensical we