mate for life

i will never forget
his telling me
(his clear blue eyes
dimples so deep that
women gave him whatever
he asked)
“doves mate for life”
he told me
to explain why
when he shot one dove
he would make sure
to shoot the mate
as well
so it would not be heartbroken…
his one small
kindness.

ah yes, my kentucky redneck. a preview of my relationship with dusty. he was a breed of his own–just like dusty. a special kind of damaged brilliance.
i think of him every time i see a lonely dove perched on a telephone wire. not because he was my mate for life–but because of his telling me about making sure to end the suffering of any dove left without a mate. i never really knew how to feel about it.


i wrote this because there is a mourning dove that likes to perch on the telephone wire outside my office window. i often wonder if that dove is my one true love come to wait for me.

change is not death

“If you don’t release something voluntarily, it will cause you pain when it is snatched from you against your will.”

this card was driving me crazy because sometimes it feels like all i do is let things go.
what else can i let go of?
then i caught myself going to a dark
dark
place when i saw a friend’s loving post about his wife.
right? why should that cause me pain??
and that is when i realized what i needed to let go of
my fantasy that i had once had
true love
& had lost it through carelessness…
to stop being angry & depressed about losing something
that was never mine
to begin with.

i journaled about it over on my patreon page (more pages to come) & am trying to process it out.

i also have added a couple of more pages in my new series about being feral.

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….

talk to me

obviously
i cannot come up with the
magic words
that will induce you
to talk to me again…
& maybe
maybe
you should tell me to “stop”
but i am pretty sure
my heart
would turn to dust
if you did
so i keep trying
some crazy stalker chick
to get your attention
recognizing
that you must know
my being ignored
only encourages me more
as i grew up
pretending
hostile silence
was actually deep
affection
a character flaw
i really need to out grow
& totally would…
but it’s you
it’s you
& i can’t stop
i can’t
please
please please please
talk to me
please
please.

it’s my birthday & i can obsess if i want to.
you know, if i ever did become famous…or infamous (really it could go either way with me)…if i ever did become renowned, this obsession of mine will make a great made-for-tv movie.

my first post at the literati mafia

my first poem & self-portrait have been posted–go check it out. also check out all the awesome writers posting on the literati mafia.

holy crap this is the longest i have spent on a drawing/ink painting in quite a bit. usually i spend about fifteen minutes on a journal page. but this one, i did a rough in my journal (as usual) and then spent time & used good paper to do a final. i like how it turned out. funny story…i was almost done and went to put away my black ink when–ah fuck! i spilled ink on the page i had been working so hard to make less messy than my usual. but i kind of like the ink spill. i am considering making it part of my signature on every piece from now on.
the poem is a bit different as well.
(and also the same)
it’s a little more disjointed than usual. i thought i should make it into a longer more prose-y piece, but after writing a longer more prose-y and cohesive piece, i decided i liked my disjointed verse better.

it’s the same story…but with a little more effort.

more memoir

i wrote a little bit more on my memoir.
there is now a page eight and a page nine.
i wrote page nine (i had started but not finished page eight at the time) after waking up from a dream about him. the whole thing felt so delicious. you know those dreams.
and i looked in the mirror–and my hair (at least in my mind) was all like super sexy super model hair.
being one of those people who have few & far between “good hair days,” of course i took a picture.
my dream was so awesome, it gave me good hair.
that says something, right?

little me

crazy broken love

i did this picture by spilling ink
and looking for images
in the shadows & shades of the ink
i spilled this ink
to send another love note
to a person who doesn’t want me
but at least i’m making art
while i mope
and try to find my way.

meanwhile, i really need to do another page of moses jones. it’s time for that once-a-month page.
but my garden is weeded. my minions are fed. my ducks are laying. my bees are buzzing. life goes on.

foot note

once upon a time we sat in a room
where i lived
& you visited
just to see me
& we looked at our feet as we brainstormed
how to make
money
your feet with so much character
reminded me
of tree frog feet
magical
my feet, i said, would be the picture
in the dictionary
under the word
“foot”
boring
a million years later my feet are not so
perfect
as they used to be
but they still remind me
of you.

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