Muse

~ admin

8.10.22

SATURN’S RETURN / JANUS
last night the freezer thawed
and I meant it when I said it had nothing to do with you

it happens sometimes.
Takes a lot to run this powerhouse, this chariot, this vessel
too little power here, or too much push there
and the flip switches

it used to be worse—one could compost forests from the ashes of burnt bridges

I’m better now
but this isn’t the type of monster you get to walk away from

don’t get me wrong—I don’t shake at fireworks anymore, loud noises are less loud, no shocks to the body draining the life off my face
At least not anymore.

so when I say it’s not something I like to talk about

it’s not because I haven’t told these stories before
I just know what it’s like to tell them to someone who’s never been on the wrong side of
your daddy’s hunting riffle.
camo works on more than deer, you know, imagine being that doe
what if I told you; even deer can’t run as fast the women in my family,
when we hear a loud BANG

you can’t imagine how our windows would rattle
how we never stepped on cracks because
landmines break more than just backs—we’ve all seen enough evidence of that
it’s not a memory you can salt over your shoulder

But none of that matters.
not if the freeze in me doesn’t thaw in time to keep the force of your body from smothering mine.
Not if the fawn in me wont scream fire when you place my hand on your coals.

So yeah, I guess these monsters never fully leave you.

For some I’m sure the bristle in the memory drags orchestras of protests.

Then there’s people like me:
For whom the doe eye is more tremble than innocence
Us, who played opossum to survive
have a hard time knowing when to smile
and when to bear fang

I don’t talk about it now,
because I didn’t know how to talk about it then—
because I don’t jump at fireworks—I learned to know their schedule
because I don’t panic when you walk behind me,
but only because I’ve counted all the exits in the room

because the apology letter to my body (she was just a kid)
left out the promise
that it wouldn’t happen again
don’t believe me? there’s nothing war love more than a blindfold
so I dare you
pick up a map,

and point a finger





~ admin

7.26.22
LEECH
keep your fucking filthy sausages away from my garden – you hoarder, you glutton, you reptile, you scratch your lint-lidden greased-cheezits sud of a belly button. Swallow back your halitosis tantrums, you disdainful self-indulgent sadistic shit-stain. Slither back to whichever white “equitable” hell you came from. Eden’s not for the likes of you.

You are not welcome here.

And try keeping better track of your own cock next time.

~ admin

12.11.2021

JAGUAR
air-pockets are what separates the successful from the unsuccessful
the happy from the unhappy
and so on
air-pockets as in “where things should be”

but that’s the thing
they aren’t
they’re too busy belly-dancing with for happenstance
playing parcheesi with our grandparents
painting themselves with our spice cabinet
they’re texturing our scar tissue, our incoming wrinkles, our sore muscles and graying hair
they’re the paper on which we wrote our story
the footnote, and the ink.

air-pockets, on the other hand
are here to make sure we keep on living
to oxygenate
replace yesterdays red cells with today’s blood
it’s as inevitable as our history

our only part here is choice
to choke
or breath

~ admin

JAGUAR

5.25.21
I would like to borrow the beam of awe and shine it in your direction so that it always feels like you are the center stage of your life.

~ admin

JAGUAR
3.5.21

Good or bad, ugly or pretty, to me, you’re gold.
In this way, maybe I’m Midas.

Or maybe you’re Icarus.

~ admin

11.27.20

JAGUAR
tastes like passionflower
the dimlight walkway you never looked for
but traced the sweetest path forward

we see what we want to see
from the windows we sit in front of

but you’ve opened doorways
out of the in-between
with suit jackets, poems, and cityscapes
onto something better
more whole

when loss stops feeling empty;
now, it mirrors your heartbeat
it says “nothing is as it was.”
and we nod

knowing we’ve got trails, and paths, and walkways left unexplored
but, maybe for the first time, we learn
bridges don’t mean exit rows
the city at night looks enough like our stars
i chart them in my bloodstream
paint them olive juice and swoon

~ admin

11.23.20

JAGUAR
“I can’t wait to show you how I see you over time.”

or,
I can’t wait to prove to myself, finally
the chisel marks you carve on your jawline
will not affect how I see your smile

for as long as I am able
I’ll help clean up the rubble
when your mind-tantrums earthquake your temple

I’ll continue to bless it holy
bring prayer and offering

because we all need to be told we are worth castles
and we all need to know
even restless hands can hold

I wish the goodness of my intentions,
the proof of my actions
took up as much space,
held as much weight
as the walls your heart constructs
with the indiscretion of your insecurities

~ admin

JAGUAR

11.11.20
continuously surprised

small sweetnesses, smelling of warm skin and morning
they wrap its skin around mine, sunshine kissing the body in crisp, like the sleep in our eyes
it’s the little things;

a lion disguised as lamb, not for its benefit — he doesn’t need to bear teeth for me to
show my nape
coffee cups and combinations of chocolate and berry
I say “read me one more paragraph”
but what i mean is, “thank you, I know you’re tired.”

because does it really count to show gratitude
when i receive these kindnesses with open palms

it’s easier to let go that way

i think you know
my fear of holding surrenders slowly
you can tell by the way bodies melt
hand looking for another to hold
how for just a moment, there is only you, me, and whatever
third half awake half asleep dimention

we’re nearing equinox
fall is just for these types of things
no one knows if winter will be animus or anima this year

~ admin

JAGUAR

11.8.20
This week, I’ve had more practice thanking my skeleton.

It lets my fingertips feel for the collective pulse, yours, hers, my own.

It holds my eyes in their socket (did you know even scarecrows were skinned back in the middle ages?) keeping them open to sniff out the next heartbeat.

So no, I’m not seeing red.

I will however, hold your flag at half mast — rejoicing (or mourning?) the sweetness with a little more salt.

Some would argue there’s flavor in that.

Others claim corrupted purity.

~ admin

JAGUAR

10.31.20
Dia De Los Muertos,
This house is haunted and now you know that first hand. Ghosts leave ugly messes here. The type that wake you up with ice-cubes in your belly. No amount of blankets can cover up that chill.

I’m sorry. Truly. I could ramble off excuses about miscalculations and bad timing, but we both know there was intention in flirting with madness. What surprised us all, I think, is when madness started flirting back.

Know what though? I don’t believe there’s a thing we’ve seen we have not first felt. You knew this the moment you could no longer discern adrenaline from oxytocin, fate thinks herself a comedian that way and we’ve both been had on this one. It’s a good thing we have a sense of humor.

So fuck the monsters under the bed, and fuck me too while you’re at it. Let the sounds of our laughter and moans be the sage that smokes out beasts from their hiding places. There’s no music dancing with the dead.