this small figure. I don't remember when or how i got her. It's been so long. she has lived Out Side wherever i have lived. Out in the rocks and with the plant people. In my mind, never really spoken aloud, i call her The Heathen. She connects to that time in my own life when i had a Creek for a Mother. When i found out that i was a heathen.
viewed from a distance, the Cloth makes total sense
First Iris. Viewed from up close, at a distance, from my body when it's back is turned, First Iris makes total sense. Always.
I watch the thin thread of smoke from the stick of incense, the Nag Champa, watch as it ascends straight upward to the ceiling and through the ceiling, through the roof, up and OUT carrying the hope, the Asking.
windthread 
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