Hello Me, 

We weren’t done. Turns out, these things will be coming back to you for the rest of your life. So, stop trying to leave me here in the dark. Talk to me. I’m here for you. 

---

cuts like dagger, stings to breathe

i dont wanna be me.

peel this skin right off me.

dont need it anyhow

dont wanna be me

this skin traps my soul come take me home swing low, sweet chariot

can you swing low sweet chariot

--

when I was small, I was told about the time we took the barbie car down the hill - bc it didn't have a battery charge.

I always repeated that story, but couldn't remember doing it.

now, I understand why.

bc it didn't happen,

and when I was an early teen, and asked her about the scars on my knees - the perfect circles.

bigger than the ones in my arm pits, those were Newports.

these are different, bigger - about the size of a coin.

there was a trip up Mill Mountain, she said we would look at the star.

but there was Zima in the cup holder, and Newports.

those need fire, and new cars don't have them -

but her old wagon did.

the car cigarette lighter, round and just the right size

for what my two knees bear witness to.

i remember a smell of burning that night

I remember crying and telling you to stop. I always thought that was bc of the zima and the hills and your unsteady hands on the wheel steering us up up up the mountain.

I remember more this time, 1:52 in the morning 10/29 - my cat is dead and I can't whisper the ugly in his ear. I have to write it here. for me. for you. anyone.

I remember - that pungent, burnt smell - 

that I can't forget, and now knowing it was the meat of a small person, known as me. 

I heard she grew up okay, though. and besides, her mother died from too much zima.

---

This blog will remain open as an inactive archive starting 10/2020.

This blog was an exercise over several years to approach healthier inner dialogue and conversations with my ghosts.

I am still on my journey but it’s time to lay bones to rest here and start anew.

- The ship sank, but I am a buoy. -

That being said, I will be moving to a new handle. That information is only available via request.

Or leave it up to chance you’ll like my writing twice and find me again.

Many of you have made impressions upon me. Your writing, images, quotes and art have meant the most.

Thank you for the support over the years.

Cheers,

Me

legs will, still

and machines take nickels again.

turn the cycle on

and hum of

the strawberries

in June and

cats that live forever

-

cradle my ears and tell me about Kennedy’s death and the generation lost in space and all the reasons why stairways to heaven aren’t for sale at the yard sale down the street.

-

last night

storm of

hands pulled in

every direction &

dragged away

thrust hands out

barely able to touch -

more hands, everywhere.

then the eye of the storm.

silent calm hit

kissed square on

the mouth,

wrapped fingers

a crisp cut of air, touched her there -

and up,

[ beaded brow, braided bones ]

can you measure the flood? do you save the organs? what of the skin?

> leave behind the rot,  but bring the hide.

> we'll need sails.

these elephants, they are but pieces.