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a vegetarian wolf does not have many friends in the forest.
but the vast earth provides such a vibrant vessel of energy
the moon does not smell like cheese.
and there never was a fuckin cow that jumped over it.
but there was a man who lived in there and smiled until he realized the nursey rhyme was a crock of shit.
Sometimes
I feel like I could burst out of my whole skin
Pieces of me scattering everywhere
My heart dropping through the floor
I tried to tell you that I love you
I thought you heard me, but I wasn’t sure
So I waited
And waited
And waited
The idea of being a feminist is not new to me.
I was destined to be one, or perhaps that was the most
shocking thing I could have become.
Having grown up in the South where everything was all
etiquette and lady like. Where my father lorded over my mom
as if she were property, an indentured servant of sorts,
destined to do his dirty, his emotional work,
his housework,
his all work.
It’s always the reins that put me off. That direct link to slavery.
A master designing a halter especially for his slave. Adjustable.
I was certain I’d never see him again. We had moved to different states. Remnants of him remained in my life; an autographed birthday present, spirit-wear from not-my-college, low self-esteem, anxiety.
Read MoreThere will come a time when,
with great despair
and hope,
you will kneel and beg forgiveness.
I hear the sinners sing
my soul,
mercy
he mourns for a
benevolence
replayed on my radio.
Today I bring myself.
I bring forth form and substance
-weightiness-
I bring forth solidity
sometimes aching
sometimes free
but nonetheless a filler of the void.
Mama was always cooking up something,
and very rarely eating.
Which is why, I guess, I grew up thinking a woman’s work was:
providing for others,
and never really tending to herself.
heavy legs
sprout feet
that glide fretfully over narrow wood
I know this wait
Today,
I threw the ring you gave me
into the River.
What is it that happens
when the lungs cease to draw breath
and the heart ceases pumping blood
and the body rests?
Read More
The best looking of them all
Gets mistaken by the men
As willing to do whatever they may want.
Remember when it was brand new;
when we were brand new.
How we’d sacrifice moments of sleep,
for even the slightest extension of togetherness.
How everything was mystery and possibility,
and inside one another’s eyes was an oasis of hope.
Her hunger like a secret wanting oxygen, is hiding
as she crouches,
considering it wasteful to truly disappear, as others require her-
Curiosity nags her careful and considered breaths
and she hasn’t the ardor to say no to the children
so she seeks concealment.
I am certain this life is not an accident. I have this ache in my marrow that throbs when I question this existence.
Read MoreSometimes we stop trying.
We sit back, and let it come.
And I like this softer side of
effort, washing water over
stone, slow and powerful and
steady.
There is not just one thing
I can say that I am
My waters flow wildly
Uncontrolled by some dam
