Crazy heart

If I never see that man ever again it'll be too soon. I had such a beautiful morning stroll through the p patch. I talked to the lovely creatures growing there and was headed to work when lo and behold he's driving up to me and staring me right in the eyes. Deflated and confused I went into work. I wish he'd move to Siberia or stop eyeballing me right when I get to work. I guess what I really would like is for it to stop hurting. I tried to lift my spirits on my lunch break by basking in the sun surrounded by the beautiful flowers, but I just ended up crying in the sun surrounded by beautiful flowers. When will I stop feeling this way? 

When the working day is done

The weekend was spent painting, dancing, creating and of course drinking.  I'm proud to say my best friends' wife, who just so happens to be a fearie, has landed the led light design gig on the new ferris wheel on Elliot Bay for the fourth.  I was sucked into the program of the wheel for a long time.  Dancing at Soul Night was absolutely what I needed.  We were soaked when we left.  I ran through the sprinklers and woke up in their California King sized bed in my panties.  Those kids are so fun.  I just wish I could get away from everything for a season.  My love in the Great North wants me to join her in working the blueberry harvest.  I really wish I could.  I'd love nothing better than to just go work on a farm with my best friend and give my sweat, skin and song to the Earth.  The city is getting to me.  We self medicate to tolerate the insideous nastiness of this way of life.  Stories and songs are realized here.  There's so much beauty here that I see everyday, but the soil calls me.  I crave cultivation, community, and rest.  The party never ends it seems. My talents are not being wasted, but my potential has not been fully realized here. I see them watch me watch them watching me. I stuffed my pockets with rose petals.  I pulled the heads off of the ones that surround the park.  They were going to fall off any minute. I was careful to only take the ones that gave with ease. Like fruit. Like me.   I dream of having my own garden.  I dream of being free and loved. Either I have a gaurdian angel, or it's a severe stroke of luck that I haven't been approached at either swing set.  I'm relieved that my audience leaves me be. Several people came out and shot off fireworks.  It was very climactic for me because I was really into my full swing mode and had started launching rose petals into the air while touching the tree with my toes. 

In the Garden a year later

Twisted red loops fitted with black elastic
mother of pearl dripping
from her earlobes
painted on her nails
abalone
labradorite
dusts the wood with metals
precious
reflective and pearlescent
visits peoples gardens
works the soil in the sun
planting with children
dreaming of her own garden
earthly delights
flowers mist the air
with sex and rain
click goes the camera
a tangle of emotions
captured, reflected
sent out to touch
to taste
to dance upon your eyes
to touch again and again
this gypsy mermaid
casts her bioluminescent net out to sea
in hopes of a remarkable catch
sings prairie songs
on the swingset
leaves trails of petals to her front door
the swings leave bruises on her arms
dream lovers
tesser actors
softest mouth
most careful caresses
No one is watching
secret hideout
say my name in that place
when you come

Country Roads

The sun was so warm. The heat was pressing against my body as if I were in a pressure cooker. Instead of feeling exhausted and gross I just shed clothes and got in the water. My skin darkened, my senses awakened to the sounds of millions of cicadas, the smell of fresh cut grass and bbq, and the taste of fresh picked peaches and sweet icetea. Sweaty, sumptuous and free I soaked up the flavors and sounds of my hometown. Day trips to childhood places that I thought would shred my soul turned out to be journeys to enlightenment, strength and whole truths. The nights were drenched in laughter, furtive glances, healing music and sneaky missions. Whiskey trickled and tequila flowed down our thirsty throats. Our glasses full, stories on the table and the corridors of our hearts open wide as we reconnected. Like a wound that took a decade to bridge and grow anew we reached out to each other to form a sexy scar that no longer hurt, just made a story.  We came together with careful tentacles reaching pensively in search of love, patience, honesty and mind blowing excitement. We are the music makers, we are the dreamers of dreams.  The hardest task on my journey home was to face the most horrific relic of my childhood. My dads house and the surrounding land has only offered miserable pain in my adult life. Shame, fear, resentment and great loss are soaked into the walls, yard and garage.  On the way my friend asks me "Why do you want to see it?", "Are you sure you need to go there?" ... I had no solid answer other than I must go. To my absolute astonishment I found the house had been rebuilt and the land cleared of all signs of what used to be. The wildflowers were ten feet high and the Texas grapes still littered the dirt road. My heart was filled with light. I was spared the hell that I was willingly walking into.   As if I couldn't have felt more healed, a dove lighted near us in the yard and was obviously very comfortable to be close. It was like a layer of emotional sludge had been lifted. It reminded me of the bath house in "Spirited Away" when she finds the bicycle and pulls it out of the side of the massive pile of sewage and all the garbage is released in a great expulsion. Then the river god was free of the poisons that had not spoiled it's beauty, just buried it. 

Beastly

They want to eat me alive. That's how they look at me. I feel like a curvaceous, wanton woman on the outside. Inside I am magma, razor wire and poison smoke. He infected me with his disease. I am now numb. No one can touch me. I used to throw my arms out to embrace and love. Now I turn away, cold and angry. I feel this rumbling storm inside me. I just have to paint, dance and write it out. An old friend came calling with crackling fire stories. I am indifferent, aloof, unimpressed. What a pity. This gipsy cowgirl craves release, revolution, seduction and to seduce. I am empty, hurt and dangerous. I don't know what to do with this power, this horrible, cold blade in my mouth. I'm afraid I will shred all suitors who dare to take my hand. Best keep to myself during this time. I'm sure I learned how to be more guarded after what happened.  At least there's that. However I never thought in a million years I'd have to fight myself this way. I am strong. I am a survivor, but it's going to take a lot of self discipline to forge a new path to hope.

Go it alone

I have had to tough out, cower, fight and run. There's never been someone to run to. I have no mother, no father. I feel like an abandoned project from space. Like I was being built to last somewhere far away by highly skilled creatures who were interrupted by some kind of cataclysm. Like I was sent in a pod to Earth so that I could live, but always to be alone. When I am at my most sad, which is rare, there's no one to call for comfort. Ever. My mother left me and I still hurt so much. I remember the last time I laid on her chest and listened to her heart. I remember the last time her voice and arms brought comfort. I don't know why this is hitting me so damn hard lately. This Texas trip has got me shaking in my boots. I'm so tired of being the black sheep. I want to go home and feel the support from all of those loved ones that used to be my family. I know everything is going to be ok, but I also know I'll be making sure of that on my own.

Stinging eyes

Ragamuffin Singing on the swingset
 Tired eyes
Slowly burning
Worn edges
 Rough cut
She can't be tethered
Nor tied
Always a Rosalyn
 This precious gem
  Cleavage planes
glinting in the moonlight
  Singing into the wind
Barefoot soldier
 A rainstorm in her soul
 Lighting in her veins
Thunder from her heart