Hello, Stranger.

I haven't posted anything in a long time. I've been writing--turned inward, back to the world, hunched and protective like I've got some kind of treasure to hide. But I don't. What I do have is an out-of-control collection of deeply inward words (inwords?)...and I'm just beginning to re-interpret and rearrange them and spread them out and let them go.

Here are a few:

Matching

Last night's glitter
Clings to my purple pants in a way that says:
I tried too hard;
It will never wash out.

Like I'm still at a party
But no one is dancing.
And I'm wearing the wrong shoes:
Practical, prim, predictable

Shapeshifter

Memories shape-
shift
Grow rectangular & cylindrical
Depending on the medicine
available

Glow & dim
Shimmer & dull
Spin out of my control-
freak mindfulness

They do everything
Except disappear
No matter how I
Scrape-peel-drown-starve
They take up residence
Make a home
In these dark red rooms.

Untitled

I liquefy
Filling in all the cracks
And splintered bits of spirit
Hoping to heal you

Working to mend a thirsty heart
Draining every last beat-pulse-throb
And pouring it over
Your sadness

For Love. For un-sad-ness.
For all the unruly pieces
That will arrange themselves to become
Unconventional Us.