blue moon in sagittarius

i am not glowing for love
i am being loved, love and lover
at all times

i don’t mimic the sun
don’t fold into me anyone else’s heat
my scar tissue is my own

while you sleep i get older
i have to fill in all my bones and flesh with delight

orbit is not belonging
i feel currents move from and around me
i belong to all this motion

the in and the out breath
the wave suckling the shore
and pulling away, mouth full

behind the shadows i am calm
reflecting a wild fire,
wreaking a havoc that becomes system and salt

something is so lovely now
i have to tell you about it:
infinite me, inside me

the fecund and shimmering landscape of the magical world
ripe ripe fruit, above and below

so i need for nothing
but aliveness – aliveness
to be a bearer of all this light

anohni’s ‘hopelessness’

i have noticed that a lot of people look for political perfection in pop music. mostly this idea amuses me, since pop like all art comes from humans, a species that does not generate perfection, though we do so many other things well.

art is in a dance with us, it is multitudes inside infinite echo chambers having individual and collective experiences and changing in real time. i get excited when i see something i believe echo into the pop realm, when something strikes a chord with my emotional truths.

i rarely feel a visceral political-emotional thrum inside of music, usually the quality suffers under the weight of the politic. but anohni’s album ‘hopelessness’ is everything. explicitly a political text, aesthetically flawless/classic. everything.

there are many many lines on this album that make me want to curl up in a ball with the large scale weight of american responsibility, of being inside the structure of america, trying to make good on my miraculous life to leverage us toward some direction other than total global devastation.

‘why did you separate me from the earth?’
‘if you showed up at my door: i don’t love you anymore. you left me in a cage, my only defense was rage’
‘drone bomb me…explode my crystal guts’

and the science fiction – ‘we will never again give birth to violent men’, and one where she commits to time travel such that she doesn’t cross paths with this time – ‘i don’t want your future’…

it is sometimes healing to just hear the truth told beautifully, with no compromises.

mama (contradictory thoughts on mother’s day)

i am not a mama
i was never a mama
(i was with child
i was a brief and clueless mother)
i am a potential mama
a realm of all possibilities mama
(but actually,
an impossible mama)

when i see the bright new of a child
i morph into mama
they mamas give me love
(or side eye
it depends, it’s fine
the children love me)

some babies call me mama
mommy-daddy auntie adjin
tia and other things
that affirm my mothering gifts:
stamina, sweetness, babyfat soft
and a love of play

people say i should become a mama
(they don’t know)
they don’t ask
(i don’t tell them)

i celebrate the sacred gift of motherhood

(but did you lose your mama
did you lose your child
was your mama cruel
was your child a tragedy
is mama a word of grief

i am so sorry
so sorry

and i am not your child
and i can’t be your mama
but that don’t mean you don’t need one)

i love to hold firm the feet
of humans full of miracles
at that precise moment of opening
gasp and life/death groan
the light bursting through them
when they become

and i really love my mama
(she wanted me so much)
she wants me in her life every day
she gives with no conditions
so we keep getting freer together

and my sisters are the kind of mamas
(who have boundaries in their voices)
whose children seek them out
who know how (and teach me) to love

i am surrounded by mamas
i am mothering
i am a mama
(i was always a mama)