Let Yourself BE

As far as I could tell,

I was your

pin-up

push down baby,

barbie go lucky,

and the thing is,

whilst I trudge through time

like a serpent’s slow slither

back to the water,

I’m discovering

through the strong winds of string theories

and the looking glass tears,

I am more the raging phantasm twilight type,

the hurricane grit girl,

always choosing to look up

and count the stars blazing above

instead of watching heads bobble

with anticipation of a punch line

which never comes.

Im ready to shake it all up,

bounce it all out,

hips moving in time with

the thunder rolling through,

anarchy angel

with bloodstains on my face,

spitting the obscene and holy

that birthed the phoenix after

losing her downy coat

which covered the floor

that you could see before you

to rise from her feathers and ashes

in gory glory,

if you are even paying attention.

Shady in the light and leaf,

we, the overwhelmed third eyes,

hear the shadows’ howling

because we know

that gruff and hazardous raven razor feeling,

and up in the rafters

we slumber and mix with the lightening.

Hey,

I hear you.

One thought at a time,

please sir,

take tea and

calm yourself:

change the room around,

sage and groove to new tunes,

dance naked expect for

those hoop earrings that you dig so much,

sing loud with the windows open,

make noise,

be heard.

You are different,

so let yourself be.

Licorice and the Underworld

Ummm yes,

of course

I noticed

the blackbirds

buzzing their eulogies

round the loft

in which I lay,

and though assured

this was a sign,

I couldn’t quite figure out

what the hell it all meant,

staring out the window

thinking of

licorice and the underworld.

And somewhere in

the nearby distance,

the queen of the sycamores and snails

moves back to the city

because the wi-fi was spotty

in the deep of the woods.

However,

I did still see

magic

standing behind me

in the mirror,

it rising off the earth

with the steam after the rain,

and magic in the ethereal periphery

of my brain waves,

but honey,

make no mistake,

just as often

I sipped black coffee

next to death

(who took 4 sugars in his

and always demanded a fresh pot be made)

at little cafes

across this wild constellation of continents,

in the earliest of mourning morning hours,

and I let him get me drunk off pitchers of cheap beer

during drag shows

at nearby bars in Atlanta,

wore frumpy clothes

when we went out together

so he’d always be

the prettiest thing in the room,

and I choked on

tough pieces of meat

in restaurants,

because oh my

did that boy death love a tease.

And fuck yes

I took note

that exorcisms

are coming back in fashion,

but we were

the sovereign witches

of our time,

and we found

the heaven we were calling out for,

right here,

stomping the earth with our bare feet,

stirring up the fires from deep in the ground,

dancing in their godddamn flames,

sizzle rhythms,

teeth glistening

to the treetops,

to the moonlight,

screeching til the sun came up

from around

our vision’s edge of the horizon.

Even so,

I lost you to

phone lines

and billboard signs

that littered the

golden sky around us

as we struggled

to find any space

that could still be called

“nowhere”.

And by the end of the day,

no matter the smiles or the tears,

I found a home

in banging me head

on the bathroom tile floor

as I turned to shower on

so hot it gave me blisters,

banging my head,

banging my head,

bleeding a little

from the ears

just to be aware

that I was still alive,

even if just barely breathing.