my singing siren

are you drawn
to the gravity
of me
or is it me
drawn
into your orbit?
i don’t want to believe
you are craning
your neck
to see
the wreck of me
but rather
marveling
at a brilliant
sunset
an enormous
harvest
moon.

i keep seeing this guy all around town. like all the time. i’m trying to figure out what is going on. like are we meant to meet? do i know him from a previous life? i have talked to him once when i ran into him as we were each walking our dogs. i couldn’t see him as it was a super dark star lit night on a back road out of town…but i knew it was him & felt completely at ease stopping & chatting on a dark, deserted road.
so what’s going on with that?

queen of all i see

celtic queen
to mongol lord
to russian
revolutionary
to vietnamese
rebel
&
finally landing
on
mother….
is it a fall from grace
though?
as a mere
mother
i still
rebel
i still
fight in the revolution
i still am a lord
& queen
so not a fall
but
an accumulation?

an art journal exploration of what i feel to be past lives leading up to this one….
clearly this was written when my kids were away with their dad & i didn’t feel like a complete fucking mess of a mother.
clearly i did some heinous crime in a previous life to land as a mother in this one.
crap.

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