happiness is…

this is one of those rare instances where I call upon my face to serve as art replacement – I believe I was about 16-17 years old here – I do remember the t-shirt – very fond of it at the time – Happiness is a German Shepherd 😘

unloving yourself

 

this is for all beautiful young girls–inside and out–they all are born beautiful–they must believe this and not allow life to turn them otherwise–my daughter has grown into a confidant young woman–this was not always the case–and she’s so much more confidant than I ever was at the ripe age of 19🤗

it’s a wonderful life

Aroma and bubbling of a Seattle blend
Dark splitting open by jagged blue
Promises of the sun
Soft light dusting treetops–only treetops–magic beyond miracle
Squirrel’s ass bounding to safety
The red barn where he once sculpted in metals
Old white house, black coffin shutters where I imagine Poe sailing on a brigantine in a bottle, the ancient bottle forever resting upon an antiquated sideboard with missing crystal glass pulls
Lanza’s voice at any volume
Moon roof parting like the gymnasium floor, Charleston revelers diving in
Gold sparkles on my fingers from latest spray paint project
Son adjusts side view mirrors
The mere possibility of these glorious events repeating
Tomorrow, while driving to school

wood nymph

thinking of Christmas movies on this warm, sunny day 😉

Forgive me, dear women who were fifty

Please accept my apologies
dear women who were fifty
when I was twenty
you women nurturing children in the world
when I so casually whirl my polished hair
crop top hiking up my iron-flat abdomen
Forgive me sweet ladies
you women who were fifty
when I was twenty
you women rising, thin-lidded and lined
as I saunter by your commuter wheels
nearly naked, fresh breasted and easy
Will you vindicate me
kind women who were fifty
when I was twenty
for the times I fluttered my wicked lashes and smiled coyly
at anyone, maybe your lover,
perhaps your husband
I pray you absolve me
good women who were fifty
when I was twenty
you women warriors scarred by life’s weaponry
if my flipping fingers and cheeky laughter
interrupt your seasoned reflection
your focus on work, on family, on meaning
on all I will not know
and can not know
until my car is stopped at a red light
and I watch myself saunter by
regretting how I never once thought of you

joy august ripsaw

winter’s wilding

Out there echoes the brokeness of my situation.
It crashes the house oblivious to the shattering person inside.
The trees how they yield for mercy, begging to be spared.
Helpless are we to save them.
As he was to salvage me.
Agitated currents force unrest below the stones.
Invisible fists lay waste to my sweet plastic pots for spring planting.
The nascent air–bitter instigator of material tears–shoves and pushes into massive tantrums.

Not here.
Thank God, as I can’t take anymore breaking.
Inside, my squatting flesh reverberates with leftover aches.
Old blunders once a spiral of mad air.
Winter’s wilding beyond the anchor of a little brown desk.
Where his feet once rested on my knees.

swirl skating

enter the vampire

I have conspired with a literary den-of-thieves to make you desire Them
To entwine your soul in Their stronghold of rampant lust and brute strength
Inescapable wide-eyed innocence will burn away the layers of mistrust
One decadent love bite to draw out your pulsing demons–
those that made your flesh crawl and quiver, long before They arrived
By high mindedness of the amber moon chained by gravity–
I call to sisters across ocean and earth
Fly beyond otherworldly barriers–
keep your diaphanous forms from heaving bound werewolves
I summon, for both your sake and mine
You see, they were born of necessity and likened to mankind’s crucible–
monsters, beasts, leviathans, introverts, extroverts, banshees
Welcome Their rounded limbs to engorge your body with Godlike fear
Wretch you will, over and again until there is nothing to the insides
but your blood
As Her beautiful teeth impale your flesh, you float among the stars
You collapse, the agony of life fades into a dull memory
The tide eventually finds you and we float into the universe
Aren’t they worth dying for…
4-vamps-good

I have been on earth already

“don’t even think about it”
why do we say this to children
think
think about it ALL
just like you and your thoughts
me and mine
leap into the mud puddle
don’t worry about your fucking shoes
I do not want to be held back, I want to think
despite this goddamn aging that pins me at every throw
why didn’t I figured this out when I had media looks
you know, the kind that get me liked
a lot more than just my words
it is over now
there are too many images
God, there are millions
all online, all available, all better
lots of bubbling skin, pouting thighs
can’t, won’t go there
feminism and all that
my brand keeps the flesh undiscovered
naked is nothing new
it’s biblical old
now it’s only words, those things that wreak havoc
trashing the outside to make interesting insides
my brain processes volcanic ash
dead and burnt
flowing just to make a matured point
down into the hole
I leap off the stage
beneath sweating red gels
aren’t you
the world yes, “a stage”
a fucking amphitheater
for the” bizarre” and the “normal”
still those hands reach out
I don’t want to be caught
I want to dive into a pit
stop catching me and making it look right
planned, staged
“don’t even think about it”
a body sails across floating hands
cigarette lighters flicker
for someone deserving of butane
your hands touch my flesh
groping and grappling
I squirm for release
I want to remain in the air
I never want to land
I have been on earth already
it is time for a thoughtless vampire genie
to grant my magical release
with selfish abandon
blue-genie-vamp

cup the calm

time to relax the mind, heighten the senses
take the fingers for a stroll
haven’t let them loose in the Egyptian sheets lately
are we getting too closed in, devolving perhaps
like caged beasts and fishermen lost at sea
remap the stars
navigate to him–to her, across bombarding waves
intoxicate the glands, harden the resolve to coexist peacefully
the way temporary humans should on a temporary planet
back to whispering a sweet name in a fit of honest passion
a return to thanking the nakedness of the night
where muscles unhinge from scabbards
and time levels no orders
cup the calm, drink its sanity, inhale slowly and with much purpose
walk into the fray and remain unchanged
purple-wild-hair-edits