Bridge the Waters

I have to be very firm and clear. I need my space to be and form and self-direct. I live by continuous course correction and modification.  I balance myself function as an autonomous being first

My desire to see you stable is also one hundred fold.

I understand what necessary means for me. My space is sufficient for my contemplations.

I stand beside you in solidarity as a lighthouse. 

I am a lighthouse, not an anchor darling. I shine bright and perhaps warn of treacherous waters. I am the lighthouse keeper, a signal, a beacon; I watch the waters. 

On calm days the waters are glass. The surf banking into the cove and up the beach. In calm the surf is playful. A boat in the cove floats, waiting for a break in the current to re enter the sea, waiting for the signal that the tide has shifted and safe passage is possible.

This can take many many days. Off shore multiple currents converge and the sea roils. The cove in high weather drains the tides rush out being pulled by the vacuum of the fleeing current. Some boats get stuck on the rocks as the waves pull, others those nearest the sea some of those get sucked back in the eddies, others turned to harpoons and splinters; some fleet ships watch the lighthouse because they know the lighthouse's role is to shine a light in times of trouble so that safe passage may prevail. 

Soft calls the night

Yesterday, at the museum, you were the most important. 

It's been two years since the ticket was purchased. I was in the eye of the storm. Two years since his fingers closed around my throat and cut off my oxygen supply. I thought you liked it, he said the next day as he watched me shower.

I picked up the loose beads from the necklace he'd torn off me and thrown at the wall. Two of the rubies had broken into glinting splinters. I folded them into a tissue so he could repair the necklace he'd given me over the holidays.

Two years since he left me in an abandoned parking lot at one am in a small mountain town. Thank every god I had my wallet.

Two years it took me to understand why I let myself love one such devil.

The cracks are where the light gets in. 

Two to the Left

marked at birth
The grip on my free fall spins real lies across the surface of my trajectory standing close and closer to the light I move in and out of transparency. I push my heart and it has broken, my war paint complete I cross the threshold and emerge fully formed, Pallas Athena, into the world of men and dogs. I take a few minutes to appreciate my pursuit of expression and my drive to get a grip on theory, falsification, justification.

I understand art through philosophy and philosophy through science, I am a closed system