3.29.15

no posts in Feb spent it drawing a tarot deck. here are some of the cards. i am writing a book about the cards, the archetypes, divinations. an interesting thing to delve into....magic.

 two of pentacles

6 of Wands

Page of Wands

 

5 of Pentacles

Death

3.29.15

dawns bog song versione

tromping my way thru the mushroom field on my way
to see dawn's bog, birdsong overhead, crunching on
the ground where the corn was all dead.
and the grackles fly on up ahead so damn
glad to be back home again 
after such a long fly.
birdsong overhead, crunching on
the ground, fine affair we've had
now that the corn is all dead.

true lady wears the sunlight well
and she genuflects in clover, her knees
are bared to stone ground
where mosses grow and ferns collect
to spout of like dillatentes.

gentleman escorts the shadows from her
face and swears to the rock audience 
the view is finer, and accoustics great
just over there.

tromping my way thru the mushroom
field, on my way to see dawn's bog
new mosses grew thickly in stereo
green enough to be yellow
green enough to be gold.
came across a bone washed clean by
the snow, musta been the shin
of an awfully young fawn.
tromping my way thru the mushroom field
i stopped cus i was in a skeleton field.

and the sun set blues, made a crust like
pie, bake until golden. and the grackles flew
on up ahead so damn glad to be back
home again after such a long fly.

3.29.15

salute

holding onto the chains of a swing set
smiling so big it disappears her eyes she is a little girl
covered in tattoos and sass, so country she one time
yanked a racoon had got stuck in my garage door and died,
hung who knows how many days till i did a double take
out the back window, saw the thing suspended by a paw--
anyway she came over, asked for a trash bag and
just grabbed it down and threw it away. the hand remained
lodged so she freed it like it was nothing while we
dry heaved, her laughing like we were something else, alright.

wanted to be a poet so i asked her to write something.
she exhibited the grammar i might have done at age nine
comprehensibly articulating her POV when she
was five and he hand fucked her for the millionth time.
it nearly blew me the editor in me was able to discern the
art lived in those mispelled words of this misused girl.

anyway she shot herself dead with a gun a year ago.
i cried three days when it happened, had to let it go, knew
i cld not afford a sustained sadness at that time it was
for me the very question of survival. i was a trucker she
didnt want to anymore and that was fine because this
girl from bumfuck ohio left the best legacy: she was
always kind and even God texted me to ask why.

her daddy was a drunken loser. her step introduced heroin
to her small town. her brother helped turn that into
something lucrative and took turns at the loony bin
while her mother fucked a man two yrs her elder and
she tried to make it on her own in cold cleveland.
we had the best of times.

3.29.15

and i wld be so loaded

was so happy having finished making the tarot
deck, the myriad blessings, i thot, omg i love that boy,
i thot it as i walked toward the kitchen, headed to
the bathroom instead, to brush off my smile,
i was that sad. after all we are so happy and
i am so much in love.

i told us i wldnt love you and anyway i dont have
the capacity for love even if its magic.
and my mind looped and like always i did not take
one of the green pills like i was ought.

loopdee i thot how you kissed every centimeter of

my neck so slowly, raising the hairs on my body

like waves of the orange grass we saw took you several
minits to make it to my shoulder blade you bit
down and entered me again, already, i thot? and
hells yeah. loop it up.

i thot how bright your goddamned face when we
stood still at them palisades while each sound
culminated and every shade of dark and light danced
about us and you asked whether i felt like i was high.

i thot how u think heartbreak is impending.

how i just innately know u dont see other girls
but you have twice asked if i see another man.

magic is possible if there is little discrepancy

between a man and his work, if he is in cahoots with
nature and the gods hugging the curves keeping in
mind the universe in earnest eager to glean. it is said
in magic he must be wary of the spoken word. he must
be in awe, revere all life. sustain and fortify happiness.
act in accord with what the world says. he must
learn to hear the world speak. however he cannot
presume magic will happen on demand like cable.
still, if a man expects magic it will be his.
not many do.

i realized i havent taken out the garbage. in fact i started
a cple new smaller bags rather than empty the actual bin.
also i have not taken walks on some days and sit
chainsmoking. i do not expect my magic to be waiting for me.

it will not be where it was when i decide to go back. but logic
is another spell to cast. i can tell myself he makes me
so happy in lieu of omg i love that boy. it means the same
and love is such a loaded word.