lesson on currency (7/30)

today’s prompt: write about money! It could be about not having enough, having too much (a nice kind of problem to have), the smell, or feel, or sensory aspects of money. It could also just be a poem about how we decide what has value or worth.

in and of itself it was nothing
that was the oddness
everything it was made of
was precious to the home planet
was irreplaceable in the long run

it was made of water bearing trees
it was made of metals that
shapeshift in fire
it was made of earth core
sculpted with names

people who had nothing else
but currency
were never considered lazy
and people who worked all day
in the sun, cleaning up the world
were given no dignity

when we came here, we left behind
systems of getting without doing

here we all make the world

that is your lesson on currency

an aubade from aya (6/30)

write an aubade (a song from a door or window to a sleeping woman, a morning love song).

the land is quiet between us

for months we face this sun
growing impossibly hot indoors

she magics a canopy between our fields
demands we drag out the bed

i say the illogical rain will catch us
but she’s right
the wind is all night warm and soothing
we wake on this small and glittering earth
find ourselves shimmering skin

now i watch her from the station
dawn shift, in our conjured time

her thighs spread heavy on white,
my ink plume,
grav belt her only cover
wide and silver at her hips

there is no one so beautiful to me
in all the galaxies
though she won’t hear it

just last day
her warrior eyes on the horizon
she told me not to tell them we found this,
‘they are ruin’ she whispered

so. she thinks i am miraculous.

for me, here, she smiles
and even now, in her sleep,
with the loud sun between us
that sort of moonlight
brings me home

e— reads aya dickinson on the new world

napowrimo prompt 5: rewrite a poem from emily dickinson with your own spacing and punctuation.

i did this, as well as adding some interjections from queen aya, who claims not to love dickinson.

now i knew
i lost her.

how tragic.

not that she was gone

oh?

but remoteness travelled on her face

ah. I know that look.

and tongue

lover, did you suck my tongue, before?

alien, though adjoining as a foreign race

the glymphot for example. the thrakzly. the shmardue.

traversed she, though pausing…
latitudeless place!
elements unaltered!

like gold but muted.
like fire but flameless.
a gentle knife,
a subtle wonder

universe? the same. but
love’s transmigration?

from where you are, to within me? like this?

somehow, this had come

come and become i daresay

henceforth to remember
nature took the day i had paid so much for

made of it a castle for lonely queens
made of it a prison for wounded hearts
made of it an art

(hers) is penury

nothingness

not who toils for freedom
or for family

or anything outside of this room

but the restitution of idolatry.

wonderful.
i love it.
now – come worship me.

aya and e— speak of emotion (4/30)

day 4 prompt: I challenge you to write a “loveless” love poem. Don’t use the word love! And avoid the flowers and rainbows.

aya and e— speak of emotion

you taste like metal and fire.
i claim you as my blood moon
my favorite of the rare phenomena,
brief and breathless.

you do worse than that, queen.
you dismiss the shadows
til i’m a foolish orbit
i feel so small and imperfect in all that light

gift me darkness

no, that’s a different season, night
here, now
i can only offer you me, selfish and swollen –

but that’s precisely what i mean
it’s that you swallow me up
and i would actually live inside of you
on whatever world you go to

(laughing) but then i couldn’t see you
obsidian, sharp, bright, gorgeous…
anyway, there’s only the world we make.

hold me closer. cover my eyes with your hair.

i’m already dreaming of you tonight.
tomorrow we should turn the field.

tomorrow we should make the map
organize the pantry

and see about the water
and talk with more of the ghosts

yes. we can do all things, or no things.
it’s all exquisite. do you feel that vastness?

this vastness. this this this.

if we are quiet, we can live here forever

that’s what i mean, precisely.
you, you are the forever i always wanted.

revisiting the sugar cleanse

Sugar is snow. Sugar is drug. Sugar is statistically proven to strip me of my dignity and my health. And yet.

Sugar is laughter. Sugar is energy. Sugar is of nature, a perfect sweetness in the right balance.

I’m seeking balance again. I feel like I crawled out of the grief stricken battle ground of 2014 with chocolate smeared on my face, and weight that I’d lost the year before (arduously, hardest thing I ever do) returning so easily that I felt guilty for ever trying to leave it behind. I had the moment that I think all people of glorious size have: is this just how it’s supposed to be? Should I just stop fighting?

I adore my body. I spend a ridiculous amount of time walking around naked saying yes goddess octaviafridanina thank you for this body! And also too, I adore health. I love this body best when I feel like I can make intentional healthy choices that my body likes.

I’m also a bit of a hypochondriac (Oh shit is this celiacs? Diabetes? Whooping cough? Do I have a tape worm alien parasite? No? No? But how do you really know? Oh…health insurance? But I’m an artist. Hmm. But what if it’s…and so on) so healthy choices are my best way to avoid paranoid journeys through the haunted house of Web MD.

The best thing I’ve done for myself related to health, in terms of how I’ve felt, was a deep examination of my relationship to sugar. It’s in all the things I like, and it makes me mindless around food. I can order and consume a pizza with no presence whatsoever. When life gets tough, as it did last fall, I can sort of look up and find that somehow there’s an empty ice cream pint on the coffee table. Then my body and energy are all messy trying to remember who I am.

So I declare it here.

I am a Virgo creator in springtime.
I am a self loving human who smashes to-do lists and walks directly towards what I long for.
I imagine worlds and generate possibilities for a living.
I can do this!

So I’m doing another sugar shift starting today. I don’t frame it as a cleanse in my heart, because this is a long long process of unlearning sugar as comfort and rediscovering health. Something like 50 people are doing some version of it too on Facebook (let me know if you want in).

Some tips from last time, and for travel:

– know the possible meals I can have for the day, both what I create and what’s possible when eating out. Time travel to the hardest one and make a plan. Build up to trusting myself to hold the line in the moment.

– be a snack warrior. Have things in my bag that will actually get me through. For me that’s trail mix and tuna.

– decide my adaptations beforehand. Some folks are doing the cleanse with fruit, or with specific grains, or one glass of white wine in the evening. Again, decide what I need to get through it and then lock it in. It’s only 21 days.

– drink so much water. Big glass with fresh lemon in the morning and then keep the bottle in hand all day. When I think of food, drink some water before taking any other action. My skin will praise dance (after the initial toxin flush breakout which I will welcome as indications I’m actually doing it…and not pick at!).

– move my body. Whatever movement feels like a celebration in my body, I’ll do that. For some people it’s running. For me it’s dancing. I’m alive! Act like it.

Those are the main things I can think of as I begin again this humbling daunting necessary journey.

I’m doing this while book touring, so I need all your love and sweetness now. If you see me, you can ask about the cleanse, but mostly ask me how I am, tell me I’m glowing and give me a big hug.

I’m going to seek the pleasure in this experience. Blow me kisses.

e— recalls creating (3/30)

day 3 prompt: write a fourteener. fourteeners can be have any number of lines, but each line should have fourteen syllables

e— journal entry 3/26/R1259

we are building a home we know from dreams and the darkness
it isn’t wood, but it lives, it grows and it knows our names
we whisper up walls which glow when the light is near fading
we learn, forget all the borders and lies we were raised in

aya is a warm stone huddled inside my healing womb
i ask the sacrifice of the fleshed up m’xjulls, feed us
we lay on the shifting floor sucking meat from our fingers
she says we could never be lost, dull, lonely or easy

she laughs when i call her queen, mounts the throne for my pleasure
we are so deeply alone, but i don’t miss the others
she sings me songs that she plucks fully formed from her memories
if the new world is in us, i can hush and be hopeful

aya’s own stars (2/30)

today’s prompt: take your gaze upward, and write a poem about the stars.

……

e— wore the grav belt
even when they were alone
on a field like shards of silver
her back gentle and solid
on the bright dirt

even when aya was naked
floating just above the planet’s surface
the whole three hours of night.
aya would let e— shape her against the darkness,
making of her arms and legs and mane
new constellations

‘but now i’m just orion!’
aya would eventually protest,
done with the game,
reducing e—‘s flesh art
to belt, four corners, phallus,
just to feel something familiar on her tongue

e— would pull aya down through the air
into kisses that sent aya’s toes towards ocha (the vermilion moon)

saying,
‘and from here, from the back, orion could be anyone we say she is.’

meaning,
‘i am your only familiar.’

Napowrimo 2015

it’s Napowrimo time!! i commit to writing a poem a day for a month. this year I’ll try to have a sci-fi touch to my poems, we’ll see what happens.

first prompt: write a poem of negation.

queen aya regrets

show you love?

i’ll show you everything i know
but these are not the memories you seek
not the softer smile that blurred
as the ship lifted away from time

i cannot show how you survived on laughter and the visible heats of your skins
i cannot show you the small world where you and —-, in the too near sun, became the Queens

tasting batrimatri and stogo and shelmiiz

nothing remains of that period
{you wrote of succulent 17 hour days and adulation that changed the air around you to murder}
except these rumors you reference, from your own historic poems, which you know must be exaggeration

no one loves like that

and anyway
the memories were erased
at your request
my queen