love found me somewhere in between the words
"fuck off" and "go"
i was standing in a silk cheetah onesie in a room of 200 people
on a sunday morning at the tiffany center downtown
he walked up to me with a painted exploding heart on his chest
smug, with a smile
as if he'd done nothing wrong
and like a lightening bolt
an energy moved through my body
"fuck off!" "go!'
and a force field was created around me
that man would not come near
if i had had those words when i was 7
or again when i was 13
or maybe 25 or 3 weeks ago
love shows you exactly what you don't know
about how to honor your relationship with it.
and for me,
love would not find me until i found my anger.
until i spit the memories of soap being shoved down my throat
out of my mouth and said "no"
"your aggression is not stronger than my truth"
until i put the memories of the belt back around his waste
undid the ways he beat the love out of me
and i said, "no. your beating is not stronger than my breath.
i will not be quiet here.
i am grown now,
and i will not be a victim."
love found me in my rage
in my pounding fists against my pillow
in my sobbing screams into the sky
in my ache, in my groin
in my will to destroy the thing that had destroyed me
i had lost all my edges
all my fuck you's, all my no's
they were somewhere in between "feed me" and "buy me new clothes"
they were somewhere in between "come tuck me in" and "why are you fighting again?"
some people respond to crazy
with agitation and aggression
others respond with compassion and expansion
and love finds us in the just-right combination
when we're willing to admit
how much we want it
and we're willing to do the work
to claim it and protect it
Sunday, September 28, 2014
being able to lift your chin and smirk for the camera
doesn't make you bullet proof or superhuman
grow, grow, leech, vine
the ego is still as temporary as skin
even the grandest of it
there is, though, a subtle body of love
that outlives the lines of your fleshy meat
it is full of secret wishes
as simple as kindness or the rhythm of an encouraging drum
it is full of trumpets
and emptying breaths
and tears that cascade
down salty cheeks
into the corners of upturned lips
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Sunday, August 24, 2014
i imagine a brain
gray or pink
wet and inexplicably wonderful
crevices like windowsills
in a building that's all curled up
that say, stay here
in this mess
i like where i belong
even if it got suddenly dark
suddenly stopped in the forrest of
thick bushes and over grown trees and out of control weeds
don't make me take the machete
to the way i am
don't make me carve a new plan
there is a flickering
locket in the
of my fantasy
and inside it a picture
of who i want to be
spins and turns
pulls that stubborn
crab, curled up
in that hard shell magic
into the sea