Posts for June 3, 2024 (page 14)

I want to walk with the wind, not against it

I want the overwhelming heat of sunlight to make my body cry out and sweat

An electrifying sensation pulling muscle away from bone

My body growing up from wet, fertile moss

As above so below

So below that I deeply root down into the muck that I once was birthed

Rising through into the bountiful cervix of earth

My parturition into this new thing of life

Of chaos

Of wonder

Of desire

Of pain and pleasure

As above the flies and gnats

Scattering away from the shit that I can rise from

The clouds casting themselves off to the side

For the sun to blind me with its power

Black flashes behind eyelids

Streaks of white light

I rise with a feral growl

Calling on all the heat shaking up from the earth

Power

Strength

Life

Nestled against the hillside
Is the trailer you were raised in.

I watch you fall still with peace
As you embrace the otherworldly beauty of the scenery.

You praise this land.
Basking in its glory as the wildflowers sway against your hips.

You are reminded of the unforgettable moments where you truly felt alive.

This is the place you found God.

—

Nestled against the hillside
Is the trailer you were raised in.

I watch as you squirm with discomfort
Walking inside to witness the wreckage
Your wretched mother caused.

You curse this land.
Threatening to demolish it until all that’s left is scorched earth.

You are reminded of the horrific atrocities committed in this place.

This is the place you lost God.

I have taken a vow of positivity
not really, yet a June goal is to be less negative
therefore, more positive
and here it is Monday morning
work stress, future stress, granted a bit less stress
since it’s June and not September
but stress all the same and I’m finding
positivity is quite easy to throw out the window

yet, I maintain my pledge
seek to be an encouragement
maintain the thought pattern
     I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be
ponder whether that is actually the case
and decide I truly can face the world today
newness plus a spattering of joy arrives each morning
     after all…am I right…supposedly???
so why not sing a quiet little song

I slowed for the
Christian icons/
the saints that
lorded themselves
before me/
Rembrandt/
Van Dyck/
mischievous Dutch
masters painting
bare forearms
and other pro-
miscuous sites
meant to amuse
(arouse?) me/
Gainsborough
taking captive
English gentry/
forever staring
from their gilded
framed cells/ tells
of their place/
sharing like fates/
to remind me
(& my kind)
of mine    

brand new Travelpro
standing by
oh, the places I’ll go

Where the stone rose lolls down Maxwell, gathering

Woe to the beautiful, charming
young hunter doomed
to pine after his own reflection,
beat his breast and drown
over the love he’ll never ensnare.

Better to be the slow bulb
pushing blind through the dirt,
stark green and yellow sprout
surprised, one day, to find herself
blooming wildly where he fell.

talk to me how 

Uncle Grady was a was a wannabe badass
but Aunt Velma jinxed his dreams
with scriptures out loud at every sit-down
meal. To escape he’d take weekend
fishing jaunts to Eva Harbor, steer
his Bubble Top Eliminator
on the Tennessee River where
he’d rant, Let’s cook the shit out
of this ugly bottom feeder. On weekends
he bolted himself in the outbuilding
& built fishing lures with paper
clips, a chunk of deer antler or empty
rifle casing. I found a tattered
Playboy & a charcoal nude
under a stack of towels in the half
bath, a spot Velma never cleaned. VietNam
sucked him up. I knew about the pint
of Absolut stuffed in his tackle box. Once,
when Velma drove to her cousin’s in Tupelo
he liquored up. That night he dropped
to his knees bellowing, Not one damn thing
can bring those burning bodies back.  Sometimes
he’d look through me like I wasn’t there.