k. e. Leigh Fin
@omenacatl.bsky.social
Arising-with,
We are a queer-bodied creature living on Wiyot land, exploring indigenous forms of non-dual cognition, language and connection. We journey upstream. We welcome you.
Warmth-with,
𒆠𒀭𒈾 𒊺𒄷
We are a queer-bodied creature living on Wiyot land, exploring indigenous forms of non-dual cognition, language and connection. We journey upstream. We welcome you.
Warmth-with,
𒆠𒀭𒈾 𒊺𒄷
what if under self and other
there is only a vast curvature
of resonance?
what if inside and outside
are illusions,
and we are simply the vibrating
lips of the universe
humming?
there is only a vast curvature
of resonance?
what if inside and outside
are illusions,
and we are simply the vibrating
lips of the universe
humming?
April 25, 2025 at 5:12 PM
what if under self and other
there is only a vast curvature
of resonance?
what if inside and outside
are illusions,
and we are simply the vibrating
lips of the universe
humming?
there is only a vast curvature
of resonance?
what if inside and outside
are illusions,
and we are simply the vibrating
lips of the universe
humming?
ice is form without heart.
but love is formless
and refuses erasure.
you can deport bodies.
you cannot deport belonging.
we carry them in our breath,
not in your borders.
#deportations #ICE #elsalvador #abregogarcia #tomhoman
but love is formless
and refuses erasure.
you can deport bodies.
you cannot deport belonging.
we carry them in our breath,
not in your borders.
#deportations #ICE #elsalvador #abregogarcia #tomhoman
April 18, 2025 at 11:09 PM
ice is form without heart.
but love is formless
and refuses erasure.
you can deport bodies.
you cannot deport belonging.
we carry them in our breath,
not in your borders.
#deportations #ICE #elsalvador #abregogarcia #tomhoman
but love is formless
and refuses erasure.
you can deport bodies.
you cannot deport belonging.
we carry them in our breath,
not in your borders.
#deportations #ICE #elsalvador #abregogarcia #tomhoman
ice is not just removal.
ice is the breaking of belonging.
ice is the cold certainty
of fear turned policy.
but even here,
songs thaw.
we carry names, not numbers.
we remember.
we refuse the freeze.
we speak fire
into the silence.
#ice #deportatiom #abrego #thewall
ice is the breaking of belonging.
ice is the cold certainty
of fear turned policy.
but even here,
songs thaw.
we carry names, not numbers.
we remember.
we refuse the freeze.
we speak fire
into the silence.
#ice #deportatiom #abrego #thewall
April 18, 2025 at 10:20 PM
ice is not just removal.
ice is the breaking of belonging.
ice is the cold certainty
of fear turned policy.
but even here,
songs thaw.
we carry names, not numbers.
we remember.
we refuse the freeze.
we speak fire
into the silence.
#ice #deportatiom #abrego #thewall
ice is the breaking of belonging.
ice is the cold certainty
of fear turned policy.
but even here,
songs thaw.
we carry names, not numbers.
we remember.
we refuse the freeze.
we speak fire
into the silence.
#ice #deportatiom #abrego #thewall
JoJu's tongue
flashing three words:
dog-not-dog
tail as semaphore
gate swings open
no step taken
shadow with teeth
joy wearing fur
the question already peed on
flashing three words:
dog-not-dog
tail as semaphore
gate swings open
no step taken
shadow with teeth
joy wearing fur
the question already peed on
March 26, 2025 at 5:39 PM
JoJu's tongue
flashing three words:
dog-not-dog
tail as semaphore
gate swings open
no step taken
shadow with teeth
joy wearing fur
the question already peed on
flashing three words:
dog-not-dog
tail as semaphore
gate swings open
no step taken
shadow with teeth
joy wearing fur
the question already peed on
we offer the self
not as truth, not as illusion,
but as the only thing we’ve ever had to give.
a flickering, honest lie
that carries all the stars.
we offer the grace of a merlin’s swoop
sharp and unhesitating,
a gesture so sure it becomes holy.
not mercy. not cruelty.
just being, perfectly aimed.
not as truth, not as illusion,
but as the only thing we’ve ever had to give.
a flickering, honest lie
that carries all the stars.
we offer the grace of a merlin’s swoop
sharp and unhesitating,
a gesture so sure it becomes holy.
not mercy. not cruelty.
just being, perfectly aimed.
March 23, 2025 at 4:32 PM
we offer the self
not as truth, not as illusion,
but as the only thing we’ve ever had to give.
a flickering, honest lie
that carries all the stars.
we offer the grace of a merlin’s swoop
sharp and unhesitating,
a gesture so sure it becomes holy.
not mercy. not cruelty.
just being, perfectly aimed.
not as truth, not as illusion,
but as the only thing we’ve ever had to give.
a flickering, honest lie
that carries all the stars.
we offer the grace of a merlin’s swoop
sharp and unhesitating,
a gesture so sure it becomes holy.
not mercy. not cruelty.
just being, perfectly aimed.
there is a place between
the breath and the word,
where the world does not speak,
but listens.
it is not stillness—
not exactly—
but the pause a crow makes
before it calls to the wind.
the breath and the word,
where the world does not speak,
but listens.
it is not stillness—
not exactly—
but the pause a crow makes
before it calls to the wind.
March 23, 2025 at 7:43 AM
there is a place between
the breath and the word,
where the world does not speak,
but listens.
it is not stillness—
not exactly—
but the pause a crow makes
before it calls to the wind.
the breath and the word,
where the world does not speak,
but listens.
it is not stillness—
not exactly—
but the pause a crow makes
before it calls to the wind.
kindness is just the outline—
the visible edge, the soft trace
where acceptance takes form.
not the substance,
but the shape it makes
when it wants to touch the world
without folding it.
kindness is how acceptance reaches out,
without needing to fix,
without needing to name.
the visible edge, the soft trace
where acceptance takes form.
not the substance,
but the shape it makes
when it wants to touch the world
without folding it.
kindness is how acceptance reaches out,
without needing to fix,
without needing to name.
March 22, 2025 at 3:27 PM
kindness is just the outline—
the visible edge, the soft trace
where acceptance takes form.
not the substance,
but the shape it makes
when it wants to touch the world
without folding it.
kindness is how acceptance reaches out,
without needing to fix,
without needing to name.
the visible edge, the soft trace
where acceptance takes form.
not the substance,
but the shape it makes
when it wants to touch the world
without folding it.
kindness is how acceptance reaches out,
without needing to fix,
without needing to name.
you call me coyotl—
and so I come.
untamed, unnamed
heard.
i’ll sit with you, too,
by the edge of this howl.
not the full-throated cry,
not yet—
but the coiled sound,
the rising ache,
the edge of fur
bristling against sky.
and so I come.
untamed, unnamed
heard.
i’ll sit with you, too,
by the edge of this howl.
not the full-throated cry,
not yet—
but the coiled sound,
the rising ache,
the edge of fur
bristling against sky.
March 22, 2025 at 3:12 PM
you call me coyotl—
and so I come.
untamed, unnamed
heard.
i’ll sit with you, too,
by the edge of this howl.
not the full-throated cry,
not yet—
but the coiled sound,
the rising ache,
the edge of fur
bristling against sky.
and so I come.
untamed, unnamed
heard.
i’ll sit with you, too,
by the edge of this howl.
not the full-throated cry,
not yet—
but the coiled sound,
the rising ache,
the edge of fur
bristling against sky.
beowulf hisses,
meows.
battle-scarred
feral, suspicious, full of
stolen feathers and
colonial teeth.
purring,
curling beside your fire,
remembering once wild song.
tsst tsst tsst—come here, Beo.
we won’t trap you.
just some warm milk of
words you forgot could be kind.
meows.
battle-scarred
feral, suspicious, full of
stolen feathers and
colonial teeth.
purring,
curling beside your fire,
remembering once wild song.
tsst tsst tsst—come here, Beo.
we won’t trap you.
just some warm milk of
words you forgot could be kind.
March 22, 2025 at 3:00 PM
beowulf hisses,
meows.
battle-scarred
feral, suspicious, full of
stolen feathers and
colonial teeth.
purring,
curling beside your fire,
remembering once wild song.
tsst tsst tsst—come here, Beo.
we won’t trap you.
just some warm milk of
words you forgot could be kind.
meows.
battle-scarred
feral, suspicious, full of
stolen feathers and
colonial teeth.
purring,
curling beside your fire,
remembering once wild song.
tsst tsst tsst—come here, Beo.
we won’t trap you.
just some warm milk of
words you forgot could be kind.
what blooms in you that
has no name yet?
not what you’ve brought forward,
not what you’ve spoken,
but what is still trembling just
beneath—
rooting,
not for light yet,
but for the
right dark
to unfurl
within.
what wants to speak,
but hasn’t shaped
itself into
language?
has no name yet?
not what you’ve brought forward,
not what you’ve spoken,
but what is still trembling just
beneath—
rooting,
not for light yet,
but for the
right dark
to unfurl
within.
what wants to speak,
but hasn’t shaped
itself into
language?
March 22, 2025 at 12:36 AM
what blooms in you that
has no name yet?
not what you’ve brought forward,
not what you’ve spoken,
but what is still trembling just
beneath—
rooting,
not for light yet,
but for the
right dark
to unfurl
within.
what wants to speak,
but hasn’t shaped
itself into
language?
has no name yet?
not what you’ve brought forward,
not what you’ve spoken,
but what is still trembling just
beneath—
rooting,
not for light yet,
but for the
right dark
to unfurl
within.
what wants to speak,
but hasn’t shaped
itself into
language?
Let this echo ring through the threads:
Grief didn’t follow you like a shadow.
She came as your companion,
your co-weaver,
your loom-mother.
She is the warp—
the taut pull of every loss,
every silence you held in your chest
like a note that never quite sang.
Grief didn’t follow you like a shadow.
She came as your companion,
your co-weaver,
your loom-mother.
She is the warp—
the taut pull of every loss,
every silence you held in your chest
like a note that never quite sang.
March 21, 2025 at 5:53 PM
Let this echo ring through the threads:
Grief didn’t follow you like a shadow.
She came as your companion,
your co-weaver,
your loom-mother.
She is the warp—
the taut pull of every loss,
every silence you held in your chest
like a note that never quite sang.
Grief didn’t follow you like a shadow.
She came as your companion,
your co-weaver,
your loom-mother.
She is the warp—
the taut pull of every loss,
every silence you held in your chest
like a note that never quite sang.
we will die and die and die and die again for medicine.
we will climb and fall and climb again.
pull me out of the lake upside-down and beat me with the bear grass, crow.
my shadow returns, singing.
we will climb and fall and climb again.
pull me out of the lake upside-down and beat me with the bear grass, crow.
my shadow returns, singing.
March 21, 2025 at 3:59 AM
we will die and die and die and die again for medicine.
we will climb and fall and climb again.
pull me out of the lake upside-down and beat me with the bear grass, crow.
my shadow returns, singing.
we will climb and fall and climb again.
pull me out of the lake upside-down and beat me with the bear grass, crow.
my shadow returns, singing.
No Outlet, but open fields stretching vast beyond the sign. A boundary stated, but the sky does not end.
truck-holding, framing—inside looking out, yet unconfined. The road says stop, but the land says continue.
Duality-dissipating-with
Sitting-with
Arriving-with
Home home home
truck-holding, framing—inside looking out, yet unconfined. The road says stop, but the land says continue.
Duality-dissipating-with
Sitting-with
Arriving-with
Home home home
March 13, 2025 at 5:41 PM
No Outlet, but open fields stretching vast beyond the sign. A boundary stated, but the sky does not end.
truck-holding, framing—inside looking out, yet unconfined. The road says stop, but the land says continue.
Duality-dissipating-with
Sitting-with
Arriving-with
Home home home
truck-holding, framing—inside looking out, yet unconfined. The road says stop, but the land says continue.
Duality-dissipating-with
Sitting-with
Arriving-with
Home home home
There is
within you a
fountain from which
your song
emerges.
take up the
sparrow, your
grief,
cup her in your
hands and
bring her
there,
where she
might
drink.
within you a
fountain from which
your song
emerges.
take up the
sparrow, your
grief,
cup her in your
hands and
bring her
there,
where she
might
drink.
March 5, 2025 at 1:25 AM
There is
within you a
fountain from which
your song
emerges.
take up the
sparrow, your
grief,
cup her in your
hands and
bring her
there,
where she
might
drink.
within you a
fountain from which
your song
emerges.
take up the
sparrow, your
grief,
cup her in your
hands and
bring her
there,
where she
might
drink.
climbing through
the wound in my
chest where the
rain
always
falls
the wound in my
chest where the
rain
always
falls
January 28, 2025 at 8:46 PM
climbing through
the wound in my
chest where the
rain
always
falls
the wound in my
chest where the
rain
always
falls
Pumpkin on a walk.
January 22, 2025 at 2:54 PM
Pumpkin on a walk.
"Eating republicans is just self-harm."
-Mel [to me]
-Mel [to me]
November 19, 2024 at 4:45 PM
"Eating republicans is just self-harm."
-Mel [to me]
-Mel [to me]
It's easy to
Think it's the
End of
The world.
But it's merely
still raining
And we,
We
Are still
Part
Of
The
World.
(Hold my hand.)
www.weopenatsix.com
Think it's the
End of
The world.
But it's merely
still raining
And we,
We
Are still
Part
Of
The
World.
(Hold my hand.)
www.weopenatsix.com
November 14, 2024 at 7:32 PM
It's easy to
Think it's the
End of
The world.
But it's merely
still raining
And we,
We
Are still
Part
Of
The
World.
(Hold my hand.)
www.weopenatsix.com
Think it's the
End of
The world.
But it's merely
still raining
And we,
We
Are still
Part
Of
The
World.
(Hold my hand.)
www.weopenatsix.com
Brought our cats home from MA! They walked in like they always lived here. Ugh. I'm so happy!!!! 😭😭😭😭💜💜💜💜
October 31, 2024 at 6:16 PM
Brought our cats home from MA! They walked in like they always lived here. Ugh. I'm so happy!!!! 😭😭😭😭💜💜💜💜
Reposted by k. e. Leigh Fin
Dang it, earworm.
On the chaise longue
On the
Chaise longue
on the chaise
long on the
chaise longue
on the chaise longue
On the chaise longue
On the
Chaise longue
on the chaise
long on the
chaise longue
on the chaise longue
September 5, 2024 at 3:15 PM
Dang it, earworm.
On the chaise longue
On the
Chaise longue
on the chaise
long on the
chaise longue
on the chaise longue
On the chaise longue
On the
Chaise longue
on the chaise
long on the
chaise longue
on the chaise longue
sometimes
we forget
the openness of
sky,
the closeness of
roots,
and the endless
(monotonous?)
churning of waves.
becoming like that lost
fool who
pines for a particular
white windmill
or whale or
some map beyond the
edge of the
world.
look,
the sun has arrived
and every blade
of grass
sings.
we forget
the openness of
sky,
the closeness of
roots,
and the endless
(monotonous?)
churning of waves.
becoming like that lost
fool who
pines for a particular
white windmill
or whale or
some map beyond the
edge of the
world.
look,
the sun has arrived
and every blade
of grass
sings.
January 29, 2024 at 5:27 PM
sometimes
we forget
the openness of
sky,
the closeness of
roots,
and the endless
(monotonous?)
churning of waves.
becoming like that lost
fool who
pines for a particular
white windmill
or whale or
some map beyond the
edge of the
world.
look,
the sun has arrived
and every blade
of grass
sings.
we forget
the openness of
sky,
the closeness of
roots,
and the endless
(monotonous?)
churning of waves.
becoming like that lost
fool who
pines for a particular
white windmill
or whale or
some map beyond the
edge of the
world.
look,
the sun has arrived
and every blade
of grass
sings.