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.”
nope.
a time of isolation
of finding
thyself
no time for looking
outside
when i have
so much
work
to do
inside…
crap.

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.)

the wreck

this is a piece that was commissioned by a friend of mine. she is asking artists she likes to illustrate snippets of poetry. she asked me to illustrate an excerpt from adrienne rich’s “diving into the wreck.”
it was pretty nerve wracking to do the text part…praying i would not fuck up. i did fuck up–twice. my brain skipped ahead at one point, & i had to attach a line of verse to the line before it was meant. then my brain decided that “fans” should be “faces.” so i had to add bubbles to cover up my mistake!
but it all worked out in the end.
my friend loves it.
so–yay!

cut me down

like an apple tree dropping fruit
doing the math in its head
5 + 6 + 4 + 4….
like a walnut tree
chunking its nuts at the ground
chunk!
th-unk!
unsettling
setting off fear responses
fight or flight?
but the squirrels know what to do
they bury the nuts
for later
& if they forget?
the walnut tree renews itself
sending out a taproot
so deep
you can cut it down
but it will grow right back
i always grow back
i am resilient if nothing else
i am that
he cuts me down
over & over again
but i grow back
every
time.

i have been working on fiction stories for my next collection (without having properly finished my first collection.) & wondering about starting a writing group….
i wrote this in my journal as i sat enjoying an autumn day.
but it works as free verse too.
& it’s a true story.

letting go

we should be proud
of ourselves
that we gave it
one
last
try
we should not
be so hard
on ourselves
for failing at something
we had little chance
of winning
you & i
just do not
belong
together
we should accept
let go
move on
& just stop
fighting
a truth we may not
agree with
but a truth
nonetheless.

i wish i could say this to him. but i am at the point where i am not even able to talk to him. anything i say–everything i say, he finds a way to twist into something ugly & profane.
i find
i just have to say less & less.
which drives him crazy. that is not my intent. i wish we could have a conversation & work things out.
but after enough circles, i really can’t see a happy ending for us.

the prison of me

i need to break out
of the prison
of me
i’ve built some high
walls
dug some deep
trenches
it
won’t
be
easy
but i need
to be free
of me
(not all of me)
just the bits that
whisper
the bits that
scorn
the bits that kill me
a little
at a time
telling me
i’m not good enough
not
brave
enough
not ready for the world
the bits that tell me
to just
go home
& hide away
don’t even try.

inspired by my tarot card reading that asserts i am creating my own restrictions to my happiness (with some help from the ex.)
but i need to break out of the groove
i have set
for myself
first.
then, maybe, i can stop letting others put me in boxes.

imagine

what if
there were no political
parties
what if
it was simply
candidates
& you voted for the candidate
who best represented
your world view
& supported
your ideals?
you say
black lives matter
yet you align yourself
with a
candidate
who pushed for laws
intended to incarcerate
black people
with a vp
who enforced those laws
is that really
really really
who you want
running your country?
now
imagine you had a
real choice.

“you may say i’m a dreamer, but i’m not the only one.”

here in the states i am known as a “third party voter.” that is i do not support a two party system & am trying to break said system down. i am neither democrat or republican. i usually choose a candidate by how i think they will govern.
i believe in voting for someone…not voting against someone. i refuse to believe i have to choose the lesser of two evils.

so hate me if you must for how you perceive that i am hurting you by exercising my right to vote. you won’t be the first….

but i refuse to pretend that biden is not at least as big a piece of shit as trump & cannot understand how anyone can vote for him.
so i have joined the libertarian party this election season.
because if there is anything my raging abusive father taught me it is this: question authority.

vulnerable

like a fucking
deer
in the meadow
a bunny
in your garden
on high
alert
exposed
vulnerable
a clear shot
to my already bleeding
heart
the world
scares
the fuck
out of me
right now
being alone
in a world
gone mad
feeling
alone
in a world
gone mad.

my anxiety is through the roof, y’all. like crazy cramping nausea. i don’t think i have felt this anxious since my freshman year of high school when i was a budding freak from an abusive household in a conservative small town. is it the demise of dusty & me? is it the state of the world’s high alert? is it fucking biden for president?
probably all of that & more.
but you know what anxiety is for–it’s to let you know that something is wrong. terribly terribly wrong.
so i’m guessing it won’t be leaving me soon.

i read my tarot last night to see if i could get a leg up on what’s going on with me & was told by my cards that i am restricting myself. creating my own little prison.
near future: illumination…so that’s gotta be good….
but now i am meditating on: how do i escape a prison of me? how do i start believing in myself?
& i figure–i already have all the anxiety–may as well go ahead & push my limits…rock the boat…burn the motherfucker down….

stay tuned.

losing

fighting with you
used to be
something fun
to do
but
i’ve lost my taste
for it
now
it is only
heartbreak
& hopelessness
& walking in circles
in quicksand.

rotten

all i ever wanted
even
before i met you
was to be
a family…
with you
i thought we would be
always & forever
us…
did you ever
want me?
i wonder now
remembering all those
side projects
of yours
people who needed
saving
people
who weren’t
me
i wanted you to save
me
you
had other people
to do…
maybe the dead thing
i smell rotting
is me….

something that has happened repeatedly with dusty is my need to be seen & celebrated & his choosing to focus on other people.
random people
anybody, really, who wasn’t me….

warrior mother witch

i
am not
your victim
i
am not
anyone’s
victim
i know who i am
i know what i am
i am warrior
mother
& witch
never
ever
victim
i choose where
i am
i choose
my own path
& i refuse
to walk
in those shoes.

a new friend who is a bit of a new age zealot told me i needed to stop being a victim when i described to her how my empathetic self felt it had absorbed too much of nate’s angst.
i do not like being called a victim.
i watched my mom spend her life as a victim of my dad, & i have never let myself be anyone’s victim.
yes, people have done bad things to me. but i have rescued myself. i always rescue myself.

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