i am deep pitted eyes the slime of leaf fetid goop my hair and also i am thin line of haze, but a smoke wisp on the air no more anymore than
fragile outline of what i am not now, not now but
was, there is no
did i use to be?
ankles deep in raze cedar pitch and pine tar ruin, Algonquian are an old old ppl they are big brick cinder mortared men i come in summer first during the virus naked as day when the greyblue haze held town in its fixing bubble and get away they said, aggressive, far from here get away &
sametime 1st piebold deer that the mists moved all the way, encompassing, in
across that long grey field
i let go, it is not intentional, this is protective, and (yes
it is back bay, of the Lodge) & the first, Gatekeeper
(Crow Morrigan angered at me, ah trickster spring doll ah me! FOOL! i laugh back)
first to come in the Realm of the Mystery
her norse face, Valkyrie in the lodges
and on the run
She who of the slain
i laugh out loud now, looked also
like Angelina Jolie. This was fuckn California after all. Sacred hall
of los angelinos, en todo, en todos alla diez
perfectos and more
y mas y mas y mas
that palmtree glow of hollywood excess how so
shimmering it disturbs the air
this, north wood, tar bed, her
day i walked the treeline shadow
at the Door
and cross stitched my way back in.
i am new mom. i am sleepless. i am new moon. in winter. in deathhouse.
death face goddess. wolf-eyed hood
i am true.
north creek wood. 1.22