color me lonely

if lonely is a color
surely it is black
wait
or gray
gray like that shirt
that makes me feel
institutionalized
not orange 
like my favorite
swanky 
sweater
if lonely is a sound
it has string
instruments
definitely
string instruments
maybe vocalizations
but
no words
if lonely is season
it is
late
fall
i know you would say
mid winter
but
late fall
is when everything
leaves.

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flying leaves & falling birds

i am so in love
with this time
of the year
when i cannot tell
if the leaves are falling
or the birds are flying
because the trees
are so full of both
fluttering birds
beautiful decay
the trees
wishing well
to both as they let go
i need to
let go
as the days
grow short & gloomy
the nights
grow clear & crispy
i breathe
easy
it is time to rest
no one
expects
anymore
i can let myself
breathe
all
is
quiet.

sometimes my “poems” change when i move them from script to text. sometimes they don’t, but sometimes they do. the art journal page is a rough draft. i sometimes make a final draft…sometimes i don’t. these pages are thoughts & possibilities for something more. experiments. works in progress.
like me.

INKtober twenty-eighth

i am autumn
i am change
i am ready
to rest
to let go
to prepare
for
spring.

…if i survive winter.
i felt calm, hopeful even, when i wrote this as i watched the wind blow across the blue sky outside my window.
then something cracked & damaged inside me shifted. my rabies flared up.
now i am not so sure that i am anything other than a dead mom walking.
maybe i am not meant to rest.
like my own dear mother always said, “no rest for the wicked.”

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