Personalize It

Today my daughter told me her doll had cancer.

This afternoon my mother lied, again, to me.

The air is just a bit too thick sometimes.


I miss my sister.

Giving Up or Giving In or Letting Go?

 

Leaf Lives

We hung on so long, didn’t we?

Sinew stems clinging to our supports,

bark-bound life-lines feeding us,

phloem and xylem harmoniously pulsing

through our fine, filial veins.

Thus we lived, left alone together

we just hung about, blowing about,

susurrus our only soft speech

as warm fronts forced our faces to touch.

Remember when we bent toward the sun?

Then came the dryness, the heat of the summer

wilting our reach.

Tips of arthritic fingers

only able to curl in on ourselves,

neither of us could grasp the season to come.

Rumors of rain from trunk to treetop

spread…

Petrichor promises turned our bellies to the sky,

we swallowed the first drops of rain,

grateful and greedy for what cloud fortunes fell.

Some of us survived, revived by what rain came.

Others coiled, shriveled to crunchy shells;

empty of purpose they were freed,

collapsing and collecting

at the foot of our creation.

Our end is nearly here;

we will begin our next lives as nutrients

after we release, gathering together below.

I look to you to compare, to see,

Who will fall first?

The Ties That Bind

 
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“This could be the making of you…Or your ruining.”

This could be the beginning of all sorts of good, new, scary, interesting things—things that give me pause and wonder and alight on my heart like the migrating monarch—or I could be laid to waste during this time of fearful re-imagining, left to writhe and drown in the shallow puddles of indecision, fear, and uncertainty.  It’s better to not spend too much time on this, to allow my brain and my heart the space to seek out those darker, whispering corners.  

There are little life-lines, attached to my waist, gently tugging at my hips, that remind me not to go into those mucked-out doom spaces; little love-tethers of different lengths, some that pull Morse code messages of support, reminders that I’m not on this journey alone, that no matter how closely I stumble near those dark spaces, there are strong bands that will guide me to safer stretches. 

Most of these little life-lines, these ribbons of rescue and goodwill, are strong, no matter their length, their material, their tangles and knots. There are, however, a few tethers I have meant to cut loose as of late, as they are not there to help or guide, but instead ground my movement, impede my rescue, or serve to strangle the parts of my heart that need the most latitude.  Most of these churlish cords are obvious, presenting themselves as false friends, as liars, or even worse—as limbless lovers that remain ungrounded, offering decaying branches and rotten fruit.  I’ve begun to sharpen my knives, my machete and my teeth, preparing to slash and chew at the ties that bind—the restraints that fetter and fault my safe passage.

It’s a time for clarity and conscience and honesty and light. Anything else shall be swiftly severed.

And now for an update:

1. Still looking for a job, I've been tidying up my resume and have met w/the fine folks at the Workforce Center; I've some hope that career counseling might prove helpful.

2. Marriage/Divorce is tricky and illuminating. Not for the meek. Best to be bold in these situations.

3. Cheers to romance and love and sex and all good things that make you smile with your entire being. Horizons are best viewed after having seen the darkest days and nights. My lasik'd eyes aren't really searching for such endeavors as of yet, but I'm happy for you, on your path. 

4.  Went to New Mexico and Texas. It was hot and expansive and a most interesting experience. I doubt I'll return for the same reasons.

5. For those of you that have come through, I love you more than you can imagine. If I hadn't told you lately, or if you're hiding because you don't know what to say, just ask. I'll tell you.

6. Watch this space. Also, watch Space. It gives a bit of perspective on your own reality, especially when you're re-appraising your very existence.

New soundtracks are forming every day for me. Each day seems to bring a new set of songs that bring a bit of relief or relevance or reality.

Here's a few, for me:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BrxZhWCAuQw
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqmORiHNtN4
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9tRgYfQ48A0

I'm not good at being quiet. I talk too much, I think too much, and I want too much. For some, this is irritating. Cut your tether.

 

Creep Undercover

A cover undercover, with apologies to Radiohead and Amanda Fucking Palmer; we all should take a stab in dark, right? 

We're Going to Be Friends

Another school year begins tomorrow. Less time to be shy about my singing voice, more time for singing loudly. Here's to the sweet things of childhood, and may my wee ginger babes sing along to their favorite tune.

Spiralling

Like an ooze of slow snail trails,
this glowing warmth, circling in on itself, grows
along a path that nature had nurtured.

Green leaves and brown fungus sprawl,
smelling of promise and death and rebirth, aromas
of evolution and sex, shoving life through the strata of the Earth.

There's no tending needed in this fen,
no aspirations of tidy rows or hemmed-in vines, leaves
unfurl freely here, feeding from a sun-kissed beam, all systems in harmony.

Photo credit: E.R.G., 06/13

Oh, Sweet Mama, Just Who Do You Think You Are?

The changes keep coming.
Music is being written,
Songs are being sung,
And I'm flying solo for the first time in my life.

A little frightened, I suppose, of what may or may not come to pass, what may or may not happen, what may work and what I may fail spectacularly at...

We'll see.

I've been contemplating the very private nature of my journal entries (writings I've kept in notebooks and scraps of paper and on margins of college notes and napkins and receipts) and I've come to realize that while most of their contents will remain private (probably until all involved are long dead and gone, should the journals still exist in the 'Fahrenheit 451' future), I find myself re-reading certain entries, thinking, "hey--maybe someone else might like to read about this...Maybe it'll help someone in a similar situation." Perhaps that's just my ego popping up to say 'look at me'...

I've new stories everyday, some that have been turned into letters, some that are created for my children, some that I only keep for very sad days and others for very sexy days. Writing that seems to pour across the surface and fill in little nooks and crannies of curiosity, clinging on, hoping to be re-read and understood by someone other than myself.  I'm well aware that this desire to reprint my heart on an electronic tableau is well and truly fed by the unbelievable amount of change that fills my life. A sort of new life, I suppose, or maybe a renaissance.  Little puffs of smoke will soon turn into a wildfire when I've allowed the fuel to feed the fire, and oxygen and intrigue will do the rest.  Big secret or no surprise, really?

You say you saw this storm coming,
Unsurprised the boat overturned
You've given up on thinking for fighting
And like all life, choose to comply (it's easier that way).

I've chosen to fight the slow-wet death,
To push against the age of apathy
and doubt and anxiety that comes 
with security. 
With so much level-headed life, 
Overfull with the Right decisions,
I've decided to throw and catch my own
Life Preserver.

Buoyant on my best new bliss,
I'll feel fear and joy as deeply as this ten-year calm;
A sort of heart arrest, 
An attempt in the earnest to halt
the drowning Death of Soul and Mind.

I'll float along, 
you may drift with me (if you bring your own boat),
and we may share the fancy thoughts of early days;
Lives that were only separate but just so.
I'll be happy to throw you a towline if you need one,
should you send out the S.O.S.