i wake up crying

i wake up
crying
i am
crying
for everything
about everything
the dead goat
in my garage
the toilet
that desperately needs
cleaning
my lost youth
clothes that no longer
fit
the blood that flows
out
of my body
the bickering of offspring
the
non
stop
bickering
of offspring
my own
shortcomings
my own
lost
emotions
my cold cold
heart
my being trapped
penniless
with no where to go
no one to love
me
no one will
ever
love
me
i cry for
everything
i wake up
crying.

there are probably better things i could be crying about. like the state of my country. the suffering of so many people…everywhere. the dying oceans. vanishing species. clear cut forests….
i wish i could rise above my own misery to find a way to help ease the misery of the world.
but my overwhelming life just crushes the life out of me sometimes.

Advertisements

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.

haunted

in my dream
i was on a blind date
i knew it was not
going to work out
but i ordered pad thai
anyway
& tried to make
conversation
when
suddenly seymour
you were scooching in
next to me
your arm slung
over my shoulder
whispers
in my ear
in my dream
you filled my senses
& my date
was forgotten
of course
i left with you
& when i woke up
i was left
without
you
but i clung to the dream
the feeling
not letting it fade
i held tight
like every other time
i dream
of you
i clutched it close
& wondered
if you knew you were in my dream
& wondered
was i in
yours?

is it because it’s christmas-time? is that why my brain is torturing me? or is he thinking of me & i am so fucking empathic that i can feel it three states away?
or is he closer? home for the holidays?
oh my god. i was barely thinking of him. i thought i had let him go.
is that why he is back?
fuck a duck.
i had the dream sometime during the night. it was not the only dream he was in, but it was the one i held tightest to & kept with me until morning, etched into my brain so it would not fade away.
when i got up in the morning and walked into my kitchen, of course the time on the clock was his birthday.
7:28
how many times do i see that on my clock and try to pretend it means nothing?
well, merry fucking christmas.
i got a haunting.

can you hear me?

with desperation
i try to get you
to hear me
not because i need
you
to hear me
but because
i need
to be heard
but you live
in your own world
as i live
in mine
& these parallel universes
never
cross
lines.

i am…alone

i am
sylvia plath
i am
vincent van gogh
i am
the bronte sisters
yes
all three
trapped on the moors
watching 
the moon
blow across
a sky full of stars
blown
by a relentless
wind
worlds exploding
within our imaginations
while loneliness
feasts
on our souls.

you are due a little break after this one. an optimistic-ish upturn as it were. i mean, it’s not hearts & flowers…but less doom & gloom. i am the moon after all. i wax & wane most gloriously.

i have not yet tackled the task of going through my journals for “poems” & art work to be put together in a collection.
i have been a bit down on myself (no! me??) and prone to comparing myself to others to whom success seems an easier venture…and hating them most enthusiastically….
but i am going to do it. i’m going to put together a collection. i’m going to publish it. and i will have my own group of people who enthusiastically hate me for it.
also, i need to start the cards i was commissioned to do.
and i am waiting to hear back from the one who commissioned this

as they have told me they want eleven more illustrations. 

plus, you know, searching for a new home…raising four minions…preparing for winter…training a puppy…deciding what to do with livestock who won’t stop being naughty…oh! & apparently bartering with the father of my children to see if he is “willing” to pay more than $200 a month child support so i can take proper care of his four children…just the normal to do. 

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.

INKtober twenty-second

i’m never going to know
love
the way it is
written
i’m never going to know
love
the way it
plays
on the radio
i’m never going to know
love
the way it translates
to
screen & stage
…unless
of course
tennessee williams
is at the
wheel.

so i am having a snoot of whiskey (that’s a thing, right? oh yes, it totally is–thanks google!) and embracing my inner tennessee williams…he is in there with my inner charles bukowski & my inner tom waits. they hang out inside me but are generally incoherent if you are wondering why my writing isn’t better….
anyhoo.
i survived my most recent bout of “watch me try to recycle an ex.” why do i always want to recycle exes? i think it goes back to the idea of leftover love & what to do with it. i tend to hate waste & to want to upcycle & whatnot.
so, yeah, i do that with love & relationships as well.
or i’m just lazy.
seriously though, laying down that foundation is so much work, & i am pretty swamped as it is.
but that is also the fun part. discovery…first kiss…first fight…eventual disillusionment. wait, i think i know why i am single.
more whiskey, barkeep!

INKtober twentieth

i wish
i could be
in love with you & feel
good
about it
instead of felling like i am
about
to step
off a cliff
&
onto a land mine
which
instead of killing me instantly
& with no pain
will just tear me
to pieces
letting me die
a
slow
painful
death
cold & isolated
in my sorrow.

okay, my witchy & mystic friends, tell me…yesterday, while standing with dusty at sunrise, i watched (and then shouted & ran towards it) as a hawk flew down & tried to take off with one of my young chickens.
then, as i drove to the feed store with iggy & poppy, a hawk flew along side our car for about a quarter of a mile.
then today, as i drove to the farmer’s market with my minions, a hawk flew off of a post and practically right into my windshield. i actually ducked inside my car for fear of  being hit by a hawk. (the hawk, however, did not make contact with my car)

what is the universe trying to tell me?

dusty came down to our house for poppy’s & fidgit’s birthdays. he spent one night & returned to wisconsin. there was some physical activity between the father of my children & me. i have been celibate (man, it took me forever to remember that word just now) for about a year & a half, so i was overdue for some…and i don’t regret it…but i also don’t think there is a future for dusty & myself as a “couple”…despite our smoking hot chemistry.
nothing changes. nothing stays the same.
i felt defeated after he was gone.
nothing changes.
and today when i tried to explain my lack of hope to him…it quickly turned into a mud slinging free-for-all.
yay.

so is that it? are the hawks just telling me to pay attention? to listen to the signs i am given? to trust my instinct?

ah fuck.
i’m going to die alone.
but at least the universe hasn’t given up on me.

ocean of tears

why do i feel
so heavy
why do i feel
like i am made
of lead
sinking further
into the earth
with each
step
i cannot
even
lift
my
head
how heavy am i?
how heavy is this?
is
sorrow
made
of
stone?
loneliness is
density is
an anchor
on my soul
dragging me
to depths
where the weight of this
ocean
of
tears
will finally
crush
me.

sometimes i feel like it has all been said before. like even i have said it all before. of course there is probably a good reason there is a universal suffering. a human condition. but at least i painted a pretty picture to go with it.

today i called on both my dodo bird & my giant squid. (two of my power animals)

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑