even in my nightmares
i wonder
at the pain
i feel
of losing someone
i have
let go of….
i said goodbye
to him
but in my dreams
when he says
it hurts
like a thousand
a dream i have
too often
his cold eyes
looking away
his ears
deaf to my pleas
his touch
a forbidden
never again
& i feel
even though
when awake
i do just fine
without him….

i’m trying to figure out why i keep having this dream. in my experience, when i have the same dream over & over, my subconscious is dead set on letting me know something.
so why do i have dreams of dusty leaving me even though i have buried him a thousand times now?

sage advice from my mum

touch bird feathers
you’ll get lice
walk barefoot
you’ll get tetanus
feed strays
they’ll never go away
forget to do your kegels
you’ll be incontinent
even though
i’m not so good
at following directions
i still worry
lice & tetanus
as i run around barefoot
collecting bird feathers
& i still feed those strays
though i know
they really will
go away
i have faithfully
done my kegels
through childhood
& into adulthood
before–during–& after
four pregnancies
you know what
i still occasionally
pee my pants
i have always been
very popular with the boys
(thanks, mom!)

first a journal page about my sacrum & now i’m on about my kegels (& benefits of)
i did draw a medicine card of an inverted blue heron telling me that i need to come up for air & take a break from being deep in the self-analyzing fun ride i have been on for…for how long now? forever it seems.
so maybe i just need to journal about my kegels.
or that’s what’s happening anyway.

in other news…

the freestore i started last winter is open again!

i am starting a writer’s/artist’s group on monday…

my art show (the invisible exhibitionist) is going up this weekend?

& my book is due for release on october 1st.

i’m only freaking out a little. okay. so i am super-dooper freaking out & my imposter syndrome feels like i am about to step off a cliff & spiral downward into the abyss…but, you know, otherwise…exciting stuff.

tea party with demons

the voices come
& the voices whisper
“you’re fucked.”
it’s my nightly meeting
with my demons
they’ve come for a tea party
butter on toast
(monsters love toast)
it’s a thing
every night
the whispers
& epic songs
telling of my ultimate
& fanatastic
i love my demons
i do
i might even miss them
if they were
miss their nasty
& predictions
of doom…
but no worries
they are always
close by
to keep me

a few beers & witchery with a friend had me singing this out about my demons. what is light without dark? what is good without mischief? i do love my demons. they keep me on my toes.

highs & lows

i am happy…
or is it just mania?
a high following a low
what is normal
i wonder
i feel
like everything
is falling
& the life
i imagined
is finally finding its way
will i crash again
what is normal
i wonder
knowing i love
the ups
& downs
& would never trade
my chaotic
for a medicated one
of flatlines
& no stories
to tell
no poems
to write
i will always choose
paint splattered walls
white ones.

a thought i had while talking to a friend diagnosed with bipolar disorder. what is crazy? really… i mean, is it just a matter of riding out the ups & downs? i’ve always valued the fuckedupedness of my life for it’s giving me fresh perspectives & sparks in my imagination.
maybe i’m crazy…but i wouldn’t trade it for the world.

once upon a sacral chakra

as my sacrum
after such a long sleep
i find old feelings
new ones
but also…
my sacrum is a plant
before blooming into
an amazing
i cannot forget
to water her
& repeat to myself
“i am worthy.”

i have been working on opening chakras. i try to keep my heart open & remind myself, “i am valuable.” and now i am also working on keeping my sacral chakra open & telling myself, “i am worthy.”
once upon a time i was very confident in myself as a sexual being despite my catholic upbringing. but steady abuse by men as well as motherhood made me hide that light deep deep inside & feel ashamed of it.

feeling it again is so nice. re-claiming it gives me all kinds of power.

the magic is mine

it is me
not them
the magic is mine
not theirs
i give it away
too easily
(it is mine to give)
then i start thinking
that the magic
was never mine
to begin with
the magic
was me
& wherever i happen
to leave it
leaves me.

my illustration kinda mirrors the other goddess one i did a couple days back. it’s how i am feeling lately, i guess: open.
as someone who has spent a lot of her life feeling she needs to have walls & trenches & guards alert always…it is nice to feel open.
i do prefer the open feeling.
even though it can make my guards pretty itchy.

a muse ing

mental health
is a loyal muse
she never wanders
& seemingly
is quite easily
sometimes just
by a song on the radio
or a careless word
mental health
is an accommodating muse
willing to wait
with open arms
for you
back to her.

i have a friend who got a mental health diagnosis &, fortunately, has herself submerged in a writer’s workshop…so she immediately wrote it into a story.
i love that.
i love people using what could knock them over to, instead, create.
which is one reason i am starting a group of creators (writers & artists) to come together as a community to support & encourage & listen.
i am pretty excited…or, rather, terrified about it.
but i’m doing it.


i am a goddess of creation
i am a feeling goddess
a healing goddess
the cosmos whirls in my womb
i can draw down the moon
climb inside
& see you in my dreams
i want to feel
your pain
so i can heal
your pain
i want to give you
what you need
you must honor me
honor that energy
that moves
inside me
like a hurricane
do not take me for granted
or offer me any injury
i am a goddess of creation
but never forget
when creation is not respected
destruction follows
i want to give you what you need
but you better
never ever
not once
fuck with me.

i wrote this after an especially opening body work session. a part of me that has been shut down for many years, opened up & released this trapped goddess part of me.
pretty fucking cool.

the shaman

the first song of the day
my oracle
of the mix
“kiss off” by the femmes
i need someone
a person to talk to
someone who’d care
to love
could it be you?

followed by the kinks
“tired of waiting”
i meditate
on my absent soul mate
& draw a tarot card
the shaman…
& i say, “oh crap…this can’t be good.”
a time of isolation
of finding
no time for looking
when i have
so much
to do

the next day, my oracle song was the femmes again…”add it up.” why why can’t i get just one fuck?
the universe wants me to keep it in my pants it seems–though i obviously have other desires.
of course the universe is right because i am way too easily distracted by even just potential–even just a hint–of a relationship.
today i got the kinks again.
“everybody’s gonna be happy.”
promises promises…
but i keep doing my work. getting stronger every day.

(i do have a lot more songs on my mix than just the femmes & the kinks…it’s just they keep turning up in the first song i play.)

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