ride like hell

I rode out late yesterday afternoon watching myself for over my right shoulder. dislocation or disembodiment for me is painful and reminiscent of a fractured youth. throttle open I started to think about choices.

I find that when i am purely responsive to life I lose focus and in my distraction begin to despair. I could have died today. I know that's true everyday but somedays more than others. swerving around the escalade making the illegal left my heart didn't skip a beat. my body is a map of my heart and my mind makes choices without my body's consent.

Misguided and Malcontent

Inside my head, I love you

My heart breaks on the stones of my mind

Hot points of steel against the valley of my hips

Map the trajectory of my ascent 

Against the odds to press against the sky

Sorrow's fractured shame

Hot nickel coats the back of my throat

No amount of remembering lets me forget

Something Like Heartbreak

I've taken to whiskey
and long-distance phone calls

Alone I am standing
against the wall

Waiting for someone to ask me to dance
the watermelon crawl

I Danced like the Devil

I had some unanswered questions about an affair I had last year. In my head I'd left it vaguely lovely, beautiful, a special bubble of him and me against the world.

I crushed that dream and now I know I will never go back. Not just to him, but to people who don't give a fuck, much less about me. No judgement, no opposition, just basic acknowledgment that somewhere along the line I became valuable.

I found my way to an old friend's apartment in the city and let myself in with the keys he gave me years ago. I undressed, pulled on pajamas and blankets, and fell asleep waiting for him to come home. He came in turned on the heater and tucked me in for the night. We talked a little but mostly we don't need words to clarify things.

I find love everywhere and nowhere. My heart is full; I am so broke; my birthday is moments away; I am free.

Hot to Trot

It happened— out of air and dust came a wedding with 56 adults and three kids from across the country to watch two friends do that thing. It wasn't horrible; I heard it was the best wedding most people have ever been to. It may have been the lights in the barn aisle, or the mandolin player, or the arbor; most likely it was the combination of sweat and tears that soaked the three weeks of planning that went into pulling off that event.

It was far from horrible.

So, then, why do I feel empty, hollow, vacant. More and more I know that I am cut from a cloth that doesn't match. The eclipsing wave of satisfaction has passed and whatever I forgot to remember I buried in two bottles of champagne while cleaning up the wreckage.

fade into me

I am on a real kick these days. February did its worst by throwing three new gigs at me; February wins, I spin.

One of my new jobs is wedding coordinator for two of my best friends. For the record, planning a wedding for 60 in three weeks is a monumental task, especially when I have never planned anything for anyone ever.

I am losing sleep and hair and gaining weight. None of those are good.

The balance of the equinox is almost upon us and I hope the cycle of renewed focus lends the gifts of clarity, vision, and humor to my life.

More than all of this external hubbub has been self-reflection. Seeing myself as a competent qualified adult is a hard won battle for me; I struggle continuously with ideas about relationships, morality, dedication, and the pursuit of happiness. I am alone, but not lonely.

From my youngest sister I feel the transformative power of unconditional love.

Pass the Salt

Brine—anchovies taste of the sea

awake at dawn before the birds
after sleeping fitfully wondering if my beloveds are safe
(she, young and willful, crept in just after six, shoes off, was almost silent)

I am not one to postpone happiness
or hinge satisfaction against the threat of a postponed tomorrow

back to stranger's arms

Strike the Record

I am in rough shape these days
edges fray
and the loose shape of my being shadow shape shifts

I am a lot of things
but mostly I see nothing inside
to hold

I want a kite
and a thunderstorm
and a new lipstick

but mostly
I want all of the people I've loved
even a little

to know that I remember
more than I forget
and that my voice may be broken

reflecting
holiday cheerfulness

Heartache is Cheap

I am a wench.

Waking slowly from my exhaustive week, three new gigs, a wedding to plan, a guy that seems to think I am not terrible, the ongoing series of paintings in the shack of a barn I call my studio which have been saying not such nice things about my dedication to their development, I realize I've been overly concerned about meeting the needs of those around me.

Let's not forget the neighborhood. The neighborhood seems to think that I've been neglecting them, that I owe them a little more of myself.

It's not that I stopped caring, I care an awful lot. Unwilling to apologize for not meeting someone's fantasy version of me, I stopped trying. I cannot live that many versions of me. These days the goal rarefies: be kind; be honest; be yourself as frequently and fully as possible.

Star Fuck

Just a quick note because maybe there exists a person or two out there who wants to know I am still breathing

Most of the time, that's automatic, so yes and my heart beats too

I am a goddamn princess. You know that.

I earn $400 a month most of that going to pay for Starbright Firecracker Boom-Boom, coffee, cigarettes, beer in that order

I am not fancy, I have lost my mind

If there was a cage I would put myself there and let you poke me with sticks
and spit

which sounds mean

but I am suspicious of people who are kind, gentle

because we all know that's a front

at least I do

for now I'd like a cage, or a secret spot far far far from here

where I could let go and inhale the wind against the salt of our skin