The lion symbolizing the Babylonian goddess Ishtar on the walls of the Ishtar Gate. The Oriental Institute Museum of the University of Chicago, Chicago, IL.
Photo by Babylon Chronicle
The branches of these trees are my dendrites. My brain is dead in the winter.
arcane symbol
The Sink by Cathryn Bowman (Image: Takomabibelot)
She loves to talk on the phone
while washing the dinner dishes,
catching up long distance or
dealing with issues closer to home,
the reconnoitring with the long lost
or a recent so-and-so. She finds it
therapeutic, washing down
the aftermath. And that feeling
she gets in her stomach with a loved one’s
prolonged silence. And under the sink
in the dark among the L-pipes, the confederate
socket wrenches, lost twine, wire lei,
sink funk, steel-wool lemnisci, leitmotifs
of oily sacraments, a broken compass forever
pointing southeast by east, mold codices,
ring-tailed dust motes from days well served,
a fish-shaped flyswatter with blue horns,
fermented lemures, fiery spectres,
embottled spirit vapors swirling in the crude
next to the Soft Scrub, the vinegared
and leistered sealed in tins, delicious with saltines,
gleaned spikelets, used-up votives… .
In the back in the corner forgotten
an old coffee can of bacon fat
from a month of sinful Sundays,
a luna moth embossed, rising—a morning star.
(Source: takomabibelot)
Eulogy by Unknown Author.
Weep not for me though I am gone into that gentle night.
Grieve if you will, but not for long upon my soul’s sweet flight.
I am at peace, my soul’s at rest
There is no need for tears.
For with your love I was so blessed.
For all those many years.
There is no pain, I suffer not,
The fear now all is gone.
Put now these things out of your thoughts,
In your memory I live on.
Remember not my fight for breath
Remember not the strife.
Please do not dwell upon my death,
But celebrate my life.
(via djevojka)
