A Braid of Frost and Felt

A previously joint project in experimental conjoined creativity...perhaps it will wander back there someday..right now it is what it is, somewhat solo...mostly poems and pictures...occasionally wandering into my interests in Houdini, Lewis Carroll, keys, time, birth and many more of the odd explorations that make me, well me

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a remedy for this fear of flying

words from a future self, who is me
for finding a remedy
for needing to get beyond the fear of leaving the ground
of leaving this me, who is irrational and afraid
and pulling back strong
stuck in gravity, the weight of it all, holding me
against this will, against these wings
but, remember i am an earthbound pixie
and taking flight is not easy for me
though it does exist within the realm of possibility
like myself, like my thoughts, like my dreams, like you
like that future me, who is standing again, feet to earth
under a light-patterned sky
a country wide from her cityscape origin
this is the escape, this is the idea, this is the dream
the modern magic of flight, out and beyond and above the fear
the relative distance spanned, in moments
in minutes, in hours
the space between states, erased
six and a half hours
and down
feet to ground, in gravity refound, reclaimed
stepping into that future self, who is me
refinding a sense of happiness, wandering in country bliss
temporary
and just think
there will be moss outside the door, upon forest floors
outside the boundaries of my mind
no need to imagine it into existence
there will be stars to share their distant light, before my eyes
more real than those in the drift and shine of memories
so release the resistance
so focus forward, beyond the fear
because there will be a world of welcoming
because there is grounding again, in that not too far off, here
and once i overstep the anxiety, only adventure will be holding me
the possible, the new
now a welcoming around my frame
arms to fit, shoulders and waist
the support of embrace
as real as my future self, as me, as you
under the sparkle sky the grounding green
the only weight now holding me whole, holding me safe
sinking into this city-to-country escape
and that resonates
starlight to earth beneath
and me small between
soaking in the all, the everything
so, i will listen to these words
to my future self, who is me
beyond this fear of leaving, beyond this anxiety
i will listen into healing

by, earthboundpixie

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into this forest of finding

if i could dash into the darkness of trees
the interwoven, the expanse, the old growth
the frozen time, the forests full
the ones who know
i would
i will
and take it at a run
air streaming around
throwing myself, all abandon, into the quiet space
this stretching ground
searching for small things and foundlings
becoming one myself
upon the forest floor, in-between the hours
small among the old, the wise, the vast
trees and moss and branching beings
and those between the air and earth
between the senses immersed
i am sinking in the immensity
without measure, without compare
standing in awe at being there
and the sight, the vision is too much
so, i let my eyes sink down, heavy and slow
responding to the flow
the all-around, the all at once
the listening and letting go
into more than i can grasp, can know
and this more is what i need
here in this underneath of trees
now darkness
soft like earth, like beginnings
as i breathe the exhales of the surrounds
i breathe the balance and sink down
into softness, into darkness
that still feels fresh and green, even unseen
and my fingers moving freely find
a stretch of vine to weave, to work, to combine
wrapping round wrists, circles and circles
a spiral spun of want, of need
to the bends of arms, complete
fresh formed armor and texture to blend
to say, touch me before the surround, before the end
because i can feel the forest interwoven
the overlap, the reach and hold
the call to wildness, to freedom, fierce
like the rush of air forced through leaves
the mingle mix of music and beings
so, sing to me and i will learn the words
linger, listen and be heard
here, i fill my pockets with earth, my arms with vines
and call out the words, the tunes combined
under the darkness of trees, where others will hear
and come to join me
maybe you appear, all closed eyes and vines
in this moment, in this time, in this here
where our fingers find and recognize the before unknowns
the familiars found
inside the in-betweens, the underneaths
among the eternal greens, the everythings without end
we stand as beings forged temporary
and breathe together, this sanctuary
into the darkness of trees

by, earthboundpixie

Permalink …he could lift me into the air any time….in fact, i will just go dreamily think of that :) :)

****this amazingly awesome photo (the only one I have ever seen of HH doing a levitation****  This picture was brought to light by the folks at Harry Houdini Circumstantial Evidence…click here to read more about it on wildaboutharry
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i love language, even when it is difficult to speak

i am watching the collecting of clouds
reading their drift, their overlap
the way they cover and combine and create
faces and forms, then erase
back into sky, back into themselves
into vapor and water and air
now with density, now barely there
like distant mist, a condensation of wants
right in my vision, still far beyond
because i need to breathe them
to feel their lightness in my lungs
to mix our waters together as one
but i am grounded, all earth and gravity holding me down
even as the rules of physics feel unreal
and it seems like i could fall into air, into that vastness
up farther than i can see, farther than i can dream
into the everythings of air
the clouds, the nothings
into the realizing that
i wouldn’t know how to be me up there
because i am all earth and gravity
even with these quiet airy tendencies
so, i wonder how does it feel, how would it be?
how do i feel here…that i know
held down to the ground, heavy with reality
reading the clouds
their language and their touch
beyond the linguistics of my own speech
beyond me, beyond my reach
where i need them to fall as fog, to feel their embrace
sinking to earth where they can trace my outline
where I can feel their forms
fallen down in the draw, the mutual unrest
with no resist
the pull of planets, the sink of skies
and learn again how to speak, how to recognize my voice
with the heaviness of air, of mist, of clouds inside my mouth
with this choice
this outward reach, this falling into the air, so suddenly
this space between gravity and sky
between earth’s center and earth’s outline
reaching out across air
open, blue
the drift of shapes
and we all move
though these clouds can’t hold their shape
they speak in ways i think i can grasp, can read, can speak
but i can’t, or i’m not sure
left uncertain of this understanding
and instead i am reconciled back to the land
where i am held heavy and secure
still reaching, still reading
and waiting and dreaming

by, earthboundpixie

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Coney Island is where Brooklyn ends and Houdini history begins

your shadow stays in the sideshow still
your roots taken hold, grounding you down
where they will
even as you forward flow, you pass
into stardom, into headlines
into death and history and time
you remain
rooted in the subtle strangeness of this space
in the energy of the impossible, placed through this air
this beach, along the sand of the city outreach
where my feet are searching for the feel
of your footprints upon this path, this past
where i know they have been, know they are real
what did you fold up, pull off, reveal?
did you remove your garters, your socks, your shoes?
stepping, sinking into the pull, soft sand
a coin turning, thoughts burning, in the flip of your hand
and the path pulling you back
to the carnival of performance, to the celebration of oddness
cultivating your career
does life draw you back to this vividness
this here?
to walk sentimental along the wood-paved ways
reliving the day you met, you married
you made your turn of luck, your turn of phrase
and carried forward to change places and people
with your everything, your escapes
in these island alleys, once alight with your energies
what memories lie here concealed?
did you ever return to gaze, to rise into air
to fly upon the Wonder Wheel?
it could have held you with an anniversary appeal
and it’s still here
the turn of time, the view, the change
though cycle back to now, and it all remains
look beyond, fall forward, because this is your world
where your shadow rises from the sideshow stalls
calling you, synonymous with magic
still the same, still heard
here, in the haunts of vaudeville, you remain
remembers and roots wrapped round, holding your name
saving it sacred, a catch of a key
a whisper into the sands, a moment upon my mouth
then sound slipping into sea and carried back to land and found
as the time blurs beyond, pushing past
from fireworks, to flashing stage lights, fast
to magic, to the metal of escapes
to a semblance of song and trunk tricks
to where we all fit flexible, where we can belong
as the dizzy ditties float out to the wave-smooth sand
and walk along, with footsteps sinking
solid prints, a step, a dance, a proper turn
to the beat of the sideshow, the forward flow
and on we go, to learn
with the pulse of performance still on our lips
sandy in our silks of costuming, our skills of conjuring
with the show resuming, quietly
just for you, just for me
though even here, with its magic and appeal
all is temporary
and i have to let you go, Harry
forward and back to where we stand in our times
each by this sea, and the printed sand reminds
of a turn, of a time, and we will sink slowly into each now
as your own roots sink back deeply, down
through this raucous realm, this revelry just beyond reality
through into sand
into stardom, into headlines
into death and history and time
to where Coney Island will bring you back to my mind

by, earthboundpixie

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tell me stories

i am a keeper of keys, creating quietly
collecting what comes
the metal, the rust, the words
opening stories
private, protected, obscured
tellings of trust and a willingness to be heard
because people like to talk to me
and i listen, i hear
with that place in me that can believe
that is open still to the voices of trees
and hears the past gone, as it silent-speaks
with the people who find me upon this path
in this present, in this place
because, as i hold that key
the belief stays open to possibilities
probable and impossible
and i forget all those labels, to feel free
to think, to reimagine
to create these little corners, little coves
to manifest the moments into memory
where all is what could be, or maybe never
being beyond the realm of probability
though, remember we have forgotten those terms
and taken their power
tucked it into the placement of words
is that how the story goes?
where your words, your voice and you
are like keys, and i will hold them carefully
so, speak to me in stories
tell it to me again
because i do like to listen

by, earthboundpixie

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