I have recognized duplicate posts on my blog. Please bear with me as I sweep out the cobwebs…

my daughter is the

broken hourglass and i

am her wishbone tree

i hope you know that you are more than i could ever have expected

that you make me want to break my own rules

that you have carved your unapologetic, visceral way into me

and i am, therefore, changing

textual vining has now replaced that which was, once upon a time, sexual healing

code, it seems, impregnates the world so much more so than does the flesh

or poetry

also known as the soul

let that sink/sync in

“what is that?”

i don’t know

a strut of the soul

a walkabout or a disappearance

an unregulated journey of no hurry or worry

no map

just stretch and breath

“but what is that?”

i don’t know

faith in the faithless

and a ship with no ship

“but what does it mean?”

i strut therefore i am

he is abrupt

tenacious

warm

and hard to know

he is creative and smart

and sexy

and if i let him

he will eat me alive

you will not accept my anger

but you want my passion

that does not require courage on my part

as you might anticipate

it requires creativity

it requires a womanly way

it requires everything and nothing at all

i am magic

majestic

and in transit

i am free

as i always will be

free to change

to journey

to know who i am

free

to

just

be

it is like

trying to put my fingers on the equinox or something

that is what poetry feels like

that is what poetry is

the fingerprint of everything

time and light

mystery and contentment

art and muscle

energy and awareness

it is like, or rather,

it is flow

for my sleep, i do apologize

but at three, the witches,

the witches, they do arise

as, then, must i

but these witches

they come bearing gifts

such as worries, wants and of snow

a great silence

a great silence vining,

vining

with another great force that is your heart

so, for now, my keeper of forrest and flame

these

are

my

words