My mind is my world.
I swim in its oceans, I am smashed by its storms, I lie in its fields.
I move my hands through the ripples of my thoughts
And run to the next island
Rarely looking back.

I float in the sky on my planet
Bumping into others when I want.
I have my route, and I orbit where I am set to.
I struggle to understand
That you are not on my planet
But float nearby on your own.

You are your own planet
You are not a moon to mine.
You are not perfect
And nor am I.

{Kuntsrule stories are written by our readers. Share your own at Kuntsrule Submission.}
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Pink and red rocks


Pink and red rocks, spliced and carved and smoothed, forming plateaus and cliff edges, punctuated by layers of aging sediment. The only break in this landscape of lost potentials comes from the dusty blue-gray pools of shadow that sink into each sad sand-caked cliff hanger. Moving eastward now, the dusty rose reds of Arizona or Colorado or whatever this dry state is, slip into the back wing and a line of snow-crispened mountaintops come into view. The sad blue shadows cast along each mountain’s ridges seem less and incidental part of this stark mountain-sky lifescape. Snow capped mountains give way to snow coated valleys and rivers almost but not quite freeze into winter as the plane moves soundlessly and timelessly forward. In a blink, a layer of clouds has slipped over the terrain below; obfuscating the red-orange sun that casts its soft veiled glow onto the thicket of condensed and accumulated water that lines the landscape. Clouds. On and on, she murmurs to herself, confused with what trip this is: her 3rd or 7th. On and on.


{Kuntsrule stories are written by our readers. Share your own at Kuntsrule Submission.}
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twinkle toilet


perched on the tank lid of my toilet is a book about power yoga…it’s been sitting there for about 2 years now, always open so the spine is pretty broken now. beryl bender birch’s musings on the practice of power yoga, the experience of the body and the mind. sometimes it appears to me as if i am not even reading this book because the pages turn so slowly. every time i sit down on the toilet for more than 15 seconds i pick up the book and work further through the yoga wisdom. i typically have time for about 1 substantial paragraph, maybe 2. slow going, but i always leave my morning or afternoon or evening, whatever, bathroom routine with a new thought, a new piece of information to consider. this morning beryl’s words made me feel cosmic. on today’s page she was describing the constant undulation of stars, expanding and compressing in an ongoing play between the forces of gravity and heat combustion. this is what makes them twinkle she said. i thought it sounded sort of like breathing. she went on. and we are made out of the very same stuff of stars…always navigating dynamic forces of energy surrounding us, input and output, receiving and responding…we were made to twinkle!

i liked this. i liked that we were made to twinkle because all the matter in the world has momentum that is being negotiated by different forces–physical forces, emotional forces, cosmic forces. i went out into the world for my morning walk twinkling along with the new-fallen snow.


{Kuntsrule stories are written by our readers. Share your own at Kuntsrule Submission.}
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Un-Memorizing the “Silence is Sexy” Date Script

enthusiastic consent, making yes the turn on

Queer Guess Code


A woman once told me pointedly something that has stayed with me to this day.  We were kissing.  Lying on the cold wood floor, my hand traveled across her stomach and she whispered, “I think we should take it slow.”  I agreed immediately.  Before moving in to kiss her again, I said, “Just tell me when to stop.”

This, I thought, was considerate.  Respectful.  Sexy.  But she quickly corrected my mistake.  Pulling away from me, her face took on a serious expression and the words she spoke illuminated a misunderstanding I had long nurtured, even as I knew myself to be a thoughtful feminist with much respect for other women.

In essence, what she said was, “Women are not given enough opportunities to say ‘yes.'”

Oh, I thought.  Huh.  What a wonderfully radical idea.  But I mean, isn’t it strange that this idea is so radical?  Women saying yes.  It’s…

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