it’s my party i can obsess if i want to

steam rises from the fields
as spring rain
mixes with winter earth
& my heart turns
in circles
thinking of you
i can smell
the ground warming
preparing itself
for growth & green & everything
spring
& my heart turns
in circles
thinking of you
each day grows longer
a full moon wanes
to new
& my heart turns
in circles
thinking of you.

nothing like spring to fuck with one’s love hormones. i made this postcard to send to someone who has probably forgotten me, but it’s my party, i can obsess if i want to.
& i’m not obsessing, really, i just have to put those spring hormones somewhere…& i have no where else to put them. (i already quit okcupid again)
so what’s a harmless crush on someone? so what’s a harmless postcard just to say “hi”?
i know…famous last words….
but, after all, the dodo bird is my spirit animal.

i just got a phone call from my mom to let me know she will be selling the house out from under me.
i kinda saw this coming & was planning to leave anyway & there is no love lost between us…but fuck me my heart hurts right now.
she has no problem tossing out her single-mother daughter & her four grandchildren. at least she had the decency not to say “i love you” at the end of the conversation.
& she did call to let me know she would be selling the house instead of just doing it–my kids have been fearing that we will come home to another family living here….

meanwhile…
here are some glimpses of stuff going on on my patreon page….

Advertisements

a difficult decision

i have been thinking
debating
i added another tier to my patreon page
a $1 tier where i can post my art journal pages
sketches
works in progress
& sneak peeks
which means i will not be posting as much here
it’s an exercise
in taking myself seriously
and trying to make a go of my dreams
but as a girl
who always gives it away
for free
and who doesn’t mind
giving it away
loving the idea of a world of trade &
mutual support
a world where money is not an issue
alas.
maybe someday
but today i have to buy
groceries
notebooks
clothes & shoes for my kids
buy food for my pets
buy art supplies so i can keep doing art
and!
spend money to support
other artists & writers
(also, one day soon, pay rent &
utilities)
so
for now
the bulk of my posts
will be over on my patreon page
for one dollar a month.
i understand if this is too much
i totally get it.
but maybe, just maybe i can get some patrons
& then be able to afford to do the same
for my fellow
artists & writers & crafters of all types.

whether you join me over on patreon or not, i really really really appreciate your support.
& i’m not disappearing from here, i just have realized how much energy i spend on this site and wonder what would happen if i put that energy into trying to earn money for my art.

xxoo

meanwhile….

this is my playing around with a bamboo pen. i did it awhile back, but realized i had never posted it. i thought it looked kinda cool…so.

meanwhile,
my day is filled
with my day job of artist
on demand
for some
demanding
children,
fists full of magic markers,
shouting out scenes
for me to draw.

searching for treasure

i am inside myself a lot these days
well, most days
okay, every day
i am also
beside myself
with loneliness & isolation
that i think would be relieved
by companionship
but maybe i am one of those people who
even after dreams are achieved
will remain
empty

i’m shopping for a publisher. i think my collection is complete, but i am so tired of proofing & editing, that i cannot stand to read through it even one more time to see what needs to be polished.
i am over on the poets & writers site looking though all of the small presses. i have found a few dozen, but i keep looking because i expect to be rejected multiple times and want to be prepared.
i am tired of looking at publishers.
much like my personal life, i just want someone to walk up my driveway and say, “i am here to take care of all your (publishing) needs.”

alas…my driveway is empty…and in serious need of being re-graveled.

the map painting is one of many treasure maps i have made for different art assignments at uw-madison. fuck me, i love a treasure map.

a tornado of me

have you seen
the coin
in the gravity well?
spinning & spinning
big circles
getting smaller
closer
tighter
clockwise
watch it go
north east south west
until it all blends
into one
succinct
movement
a zen moment
of being
complete
of being
whole
like how the parts of me
have been spinning
scattered
to the four directions
by the winds of chance
are coming together
now
pulled together
a tornado
of me
complete
whole
& a force
to be reckoned
with.

i’ve been working on editing my collection of short stories. it is going smoothly, or, was. i decided to add my memoir about my obsession with my long ago ex.
so that is a bit challenging.
tack on that i have started obsessing about him again after a five month recess…thanks to the dreamscape attack by my subconscious….
anyhoo.
also! i am shopping for a small press that will publish said collection.
feeling a bit fragile all in all.

but at least i still have a tornado inside of me.

freckles

as the sun rises
i wake up
to find poppy & the puppy
already awake
as the chores wait
i lay in bed & listen
to these early morning musings
by poppy
as he imagines that the puppy
has feet
like a person
insists
really
that he had made a potion
to give people feet
to puppies
i love the bedtime & early morning
musings
of these little people
who enchant
my life.

just messing about. this reminded me of a poem i wrote about iggy when he was four and as we were cuddling & reading bedtime stories he told me he wanted to eat a live pigeon .
if i could just do all my momming while laying about in bed.

my poem for iggy:

pirates in disguise
“they’re made from recycled money,” says the woman
handing out pencils at the bank.
“recycled money,” i repeat.
“that’s cool,” i tell him.
“noooo,” he insists. “recycled bunnies.
she said ‘bunnies,’
‘cause the bones are hard like pencils.”
when it is bedtime he tells me he wants to eat a chicken
boil off the feathers and eat it.
i remind him that he has eaten a chicken.
“oh,” he says. “i mean a seagull.
i want to eat a live seagull.”
he asks me to dye his mohawk purple.
he asks me to sharpen it when the hair on his head grows too long.
he changes his clothes many times a day
just like he changes his mood.
he is fierce & he is powerful.
only four years old;
he is mighty & the world belongs to him.
i know he is mine because i see
the stubborn
feisty
rebellious
warm & fuzzy
miracle that he is.
we cuddle together & tell each other secrets
like
i love him all the way to the moon & back
& he loves me for all the sharks in the ocean
& sometimes i feel halloween is the only time we show who we are
every other day
we are pirates in disguise.

my hardest day

the anti-versary of his death
is my hardest day every year
but it’s not
just
the void of losing
a big brother
it also happens to be the birthday
of the one who
tore out my heart
leaving it to dry
& wither
memories blowing past
like the leaves
dead
&
brown
my brother died…
you know how there comes that time
when you need someone more than ever
& they
fail you?
betray
you?
instead of holding you
& saying everything will be alright
they
take the opportunity
to hurt you even more?
true colors…right?
in the difficult times
we see their true colors
my brother died
on my husband’s birthday
& my husband
never forgave me for that.
so this day
every year
i mourn
the loss of my brother
&
the loss of the greatest love of my life
who
as it turns out
wasn’t so great…
but try telling my heart that.

the two things are hopelessly
interwoven
my brother’s death
my husband’s betrayal
i miss both of them many days
of the year
but this is by far
my hardest day.

the self-portrait above was done for an art class. the assignment was to do a pair of self-portraits (i think there is an art term for two pieces that are meant to be displayed together–who can remind me what that is?)
both of the self-portraits echo back to the last post i did “my m” in that they celebrate my brother’s & my love of movies and
terminator to be exact. with a good dose of catholicism.
here is my ode to sarah connor:

i miss you (do you miss me?)

the wonderful poet
& soon-to-be published fiction writer
mike ennenbach 
asked me to paint the portrait 
to be used in his book
(!!!!!!)
thus
infecting me with my own 
writing bug
so i have been absent
both
to paint his portrait
& to work on putting together a fiction collection
of my own….

but do know that i miss you & am sorry i have fallen so far behind on reading your posts.
you know i love you
& miss you like crazy.

wishes of fishes

morning coffee
to the screams 
of minions
as the world fogs over
on a cold morning
day
waiting for a plumber
to return my 
calls 
so i can stop
pooping
in the yard 
(i’m not really
pooping
in the yard)
i can tell you this
i finished 
my fish
cards

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑