…And then Water came with an Attitude and a Diamond Ring

I wanted to, no, I needed to save them all. I was their god, and they depended on me. If they are hurt, it is in my name. I pray they never learn how resentful I am. But look how they sleep, pure and peaceful.

…And then water came, she was beautiful, she shook us up & tore everything down & hopped off to then next highway town with new golden earrings and a diamond ring. We never saw her again and things were never quite the same.

We all miss her smile.

I took a look around at all the babies and somehow they were all okay, tucked in tightly in bed. It’s almost as if they didn’t notice that water had come and gone at all. Maybe she hadn’t been as destructive as I thought.

God- how many years ago was that now?

Maybe she lulled them to sleep.

Maybe she’ll come back home.

Murder You, Anoint You Holy, and Call You Baby

Aware of the fear of the present
Moment that big cat stalks closer rustling
Between sharp grasses. Somewhere between
Black gowns in my closet a rush against
Velvet and bleary eyed in bed I fumble
For that flashlight in the hot night & my sweaty
Fingers anxiously find the light.
There is a low thunder from Tiger’s throat.

& my trembling hands swoop a beam of light like a hawk in large arcs through the darkness

Tunnel vision. Rays and Squids could possibly float
In this dark expanse a feline predator lurks
Waits for me. Where might she be?

Cool sheets cling to me as I rise, toes first and spin, flashlight marking the walls.

Then

A parting in the leaves,
Expose
A pair of gleaming eyes
No, but it’s a mirror!
Oh, terror!
It is me!
Simply me
All of me
Ugly and sexy and soft, ready to murder to anoint you holy to call you baby

I wish I could look away

There is no cage
Here I am the beast

There is fear of the power within.

To Appraise Wonder: The Holy Mundane

I adore you quietly
You rest in slippers in my mind
There is no shaking of the
Walls of my heart
No prisoners, no hostages
You or
I cherish you purely
And yet I am hurt in the
Sweetest way comfort and care
Come along and take pain
Into swollen hands

& Heartbreak spends the night
With compassion and
I fall in love with wonder
At this grassy valley these
Soft creatures, again
And again that
Embrace the pain
Of heartbreak. The
Numb of solitude to have
A glimpse at a lover’s
Messy hair
Each morning to
Hum a body to
Collide with
Something Solid
Something
Human

I fall in love with the fragile pain of longing

This is not a story
I do not have to be okay
A happily ever after is not demanded by some
Celestial editor.
Censoring feelings and desires
Approving expressions of Pleasure
Rejecting the colors of Pain

I meet a tendency to
Chase wonder
Attribute healing
To grandness a possible
Exclusion not allowing the

Holy Mundane

To try her hand to whisper smaller truths
Looking for the drum circle
Listening for the bonfire who’s
Full moon is here? In the less
Exciting the Sacred Mundane
What does she have to say?

Maybe in Houston
In the Suburbs a
14 year old Blonde Girl may also
Look towards the moon she is
The Same moon
I might be dancing around
A fire in New Orleans, nude and
Kissed with emerald paint
In skirts in moss we sweat we
Circle hot air
Carries over to you
The Grasses under
Your Feet may be Manicured
Planted outside a Stucco House with
Broth colored walls. I
Couldn’t tell the difference between
The homes in your Existence yet
Maybe you could Maybe
The difference is all the matter
The Shades of Blonde
You choose to adorn your hair could
Make all the difference

Her picket fence
May look dead to me
Her mom’s SUV reflects
My moon crisply washed
Yet she is the same moon
I worship and maybe as
You gaze towards her
You will choose to live another day
Maybe you worship her in a way
I will Never understand

Maybe someone will find tiny spells
In Cracks in the garden wall
Maybe someone will find salvation
In a gardenia flower behind an Air Conditioner Unit

Those Mockingbirds are as revered as a roseated spoonbill
Those Grasses as meaningful as the haunted cypress

In fact it is I that limits wonder
I am not the appraiser of magic
There is wonder all around me
All the time.

You do not have to prove you are Alive



____
Fall 2019

Who brings Sunflowers to a Moonlit Mass?

Mary,
My beating Heart
It was never me who was broken

Magdalena you saw I was wounded but
I saw the wounds as who I
Was told it was part of my brain

Mary I was never sick

Mag I am not sick

Maggie such normalcy,
not drama, I
told them I loved the drama
dress in black
Adorn with creatures of the night
Wearing sunflowers does not
Kill the freak in me, this part
loves pale flowers that
Only bloom
Under full moons

I am the favorite nectar of bats
Weaving serpents to slumber in my braids

Mary my brokenness is not empty
We tell ourselves what we need to hear
We tell others what we really need to hear

We dance with werewolves at the moonlight mass

2019 (Spring or Summer)

I Need to Quit Regurgitating Goddesses

Last night something was emerging
From the belly from the depths
Fear was a stabbing pain
Between brows it was Time
Sweaty and retching
There was nothing I could do

Out emerged a sack a pod
Slick with green bile or algae
Hot from the deep shine like a
Clear water balloon

And then she took my breath away
& My eyes full of radiant gold
& She began to glow and shine

Fins wave rhythmically illuminating
Gold and Hot her atmosphere
Holds countless microscopic shrimp
Surround her in formation- orbit as stars
Satsuma scales cast shadows in the curves of
Her delicate marine body
She chooses to part the rich green leaves around her
Chooses to appear just as she is a scintillating hue
Her world lit in the confidence of simple existence

Her eyes never left mine through the
Dark internal waters and in her
Tiny perfect world from my
Belly dark you slithered up the
Tunnel of my throat I never could have stopped you
You are ever powerful, my little goddess

Her gaze both holds me in perfect comfort
& sees me in off putting clarity for
I am not used to being seen as I am
Oh what magic have I stumbled upon?
Oh what magic has been waiting to ascend from my darkness?

At last, in finality: the truth that
Despite all her majesty despite
Her endless manifestation of peace,

She needs help
I must fiercely protect her



Fall 2019

Black Moth

I dream in fear an Iridescent Black Moth has
Landed on my plate of satsumas but
Genny comes & with such heartbreaking compassion
Scoops him into her palm and brings him outside
Shushing “it’s gonna be okay lil’ guy.”
The little frames his wings may contain
Sleep dust or some sort of ordinary magic
Maybe Genny recognizes the Fae in him
By god, he surely recognizes the Fae in her yet
What message he may have or perhaps just
Fell off his trip to the gas station for
A pack of cigs and a pixie stick
For now they are the only breathing creatures that
Exist in all of space and time and here
They witness the other and the eternal
Absolute that none has felt understood before
The beauty was the amount of gentleness and
Total acceptance with no hesitation that Genny
Gave this creature.
The Magic was the trust that this creature had in her.

Fall 2019

Relapse into Fantasy

The New Story is
I am not human
I never was
No desire to eat or bathe or
Love with a body yet some
Creature of the stars
Of soft mosses Pain is
In the skin in the
Mouth it hurts
To breathe. Light too bright
To dull to fight

Call my name by candlelight,
How can’t you see?

Don’t you see I am not human?
I tried to tell him
I tried
there is nothing more to do.

Delusion is a pastime I can
Admit I like to alter reality to a
Place of whimsy if the
Conclusion is my lack of
Humanness, then I acquire a pardon,
Possess an excuse for all the
Strangeness I feel and why
I don’t enjoy having skin around me

There is fear at myself.

Thoughts seem to flit about and attack each other
Sometimes play I observe
Chaos, welcome
Relapse to fantasy to Letting
Go and writing myself into mythology maybe
I can make something maybe
I can make sense this is
Not mania this is salvation this is
Inevitability in a little
Cottage in mountains I
Surround moss I am gathered by fallen twigs
Watched by foxes and magical girls
Follow me around and cry
Crystals at my feet there are
A million moonbeams in your eyes
There are a million reasons to not
Want to die I have always been attracted to a
Man with that twinkle in the eye
Look towards me out of the corners of your face yet
You’ve no idea what you see
What you see is not what you want me to be
I will never be who you need me to be.

I equally am and equally am not a
Misplaced creature in a foreign land am and am not
A cast away deity shaking sleep from stardust hair
This land is not my own I am not of here this
Language discordant in my ears this
Spins too fast this fragile pain
There is no burrow deep enough

Take me back to slow water
Take me back to wind chimes
Take me back to bones
Take me back to the beating of the
Heart of humanity to sex
To electricity where
I could never be touched enough when
I cried out romance into cuts in my skin contains
Feels alive with
Girls I love with
Danger, with
Salvation. Love is repentance
Love is guilt
Love is hurt

Being otherworldly creates me a goddess I
Desire to be admired
From afar
Tell the world pretty stories yet the face
On the other side of the veil is
Just deep lipstick you can
See through my skin, what is on the inside?
There must be a doctor
Somewhere that  can tell me what
I look like inside I tried
Oh god you can believe me I’ve tried

There is something yet within
She inhabits gilded halls
In a little globe in her palm
It is a secret
Inside I am a secret
It is nice that way
Emerge to pray and light incense
To be admired and back
Inside wherever the
World can be too much to
lounge amongst perfection to
Solitude in absolute Men walk from thousands of miles
Away blistered pilgrims in my holy name
Yet the story I really contain a young
Man who somehow
Knows he may not
Be human it does not matter at all
There is nothing we can do
He can see it behind my eyes he can see that
I am not ethereal at all at
2am
Binging on sweets
Greasy hair
Smeared makeup
Dissociated
I am not ethereal
In pain
Under you
At war with myself
To ask you or to not ask you
To stop or to fight
I am not ethereal at
2am
At my parent’s house
Snot on my chin
I am not ethereal changing a wet bloody pad
I am not a ghost I
Haunt old songs in my car
The only part of me that is close to human is the pain,
Possibly the pain
this could be human one day
Pain at blood red at gnawing stomachs
Pain at the throat at the vulva at
Claws in my eyes at
Coldness and pain when hit and
Passing out
I leave blind
I’d rather feel pain than be dead inside

He is pure violence he
Breaks through the lock he
Does not care at all he
Breaks right through my heart through
Ornaments of gold through
Winged cat eyes through
Fishnets he
Destroys my fiction
I thought I did create
My alien skin he
Is not fooled is
Not afraid of me
Oh how did I let this happen he
Tears down the veil he
Does not care at all
Oh I tried to let him know
I am not yet human
Yes I fucking tried to let him know yet
At my feet at the altar on top of
Blood he may die for my
Love does kill, the fleshy creature in me
Caught his eye
He tossed aside my storybook he
Tore apart the fairy tale
Set fire to woodland cottage
Melted down my crown
He cared enough to truly see
He fucking set me free
I fooled myself, why yes he did
And yet likewise, he fooled me.

I’d rather hold the pain than be dead inside
It fits nicely in a little globe Pretty
From outside but
I can make a cage luxurious
No one will take my pain I’ll
Spin stories I’ll seduce you Pain turns
You swooning when I paint it with gilded
Feathers when I sprinkle it with fairy dust when
I record it in a leather bound diary
This is all I have
This is all my own

You will never be able to read me
Even my expressions are in code
Even my kiss is a disguise

I have been asked the right questions before
The breadcrumbs have been followed
Fine,
I’ll admit that
Yet then I cannot maintain
Fresh coats of Lavender over the stain
I cannot protect the storybook
Cannot defend the Pain
This human skin
I tried to become an alien
I fought to become a Fae
I killed myself to become a Saint
For people to share stories
Around camp fires
A being of legend of mystery that
No one ever knew
Who lived in a beautiful cage
Who imprisoned herself in a caricature
Who was never quite sure who she even was
What she was.
Would rather live in stories

A beginning a middle and an end
Tied with a bow