that's mrs. mediocrity to you

.

standing on the line
between years
looking back at one
toward another

this path has no end
circling the earth
in one bold stroke
drawn freehand

today i walk it
like a tightrope
arms outstretched
knees wobbly

tomorrow i bring out
my pen
begin again
word by word

.

::

This post is part of Reverb 13:

Day 7: Please post your favorite picture of yourself from 2013, self-portrait or otherwise!

::

I looked. I really did. But I am good at avoiding the camera, both when it’s in my own hand and when it’s in the hands of others. And perhaps someday I’ll get over my camera-shyness, (probably in the same year that I stop dying my hair and let it all go to white). But, I am not there yet, and today is not the time to start, I’ve been sick forever and I look like hell. (Though I laughed at this photo of this queen, because in truth, that’s how I have felt and probably looked for much of the last two months, flat out on my back with a miserable look on my face.)

And I realized, as I was searching, that in truth, my poetry reveals more of me than any photo ever could. Each one contains at least a tiny piece of me, and many others are full-blown portraits. So I offer to you a favorite from April, a word-selfie, and hope that this will do:

 .

sixpence and jabberwocky

i want to pull an alice and dive into a mirror
surely life looks different from the other side

backwards and cockeyed and filtered through
lint left on the surface or smudges stamped
by florid fingerprints and the brittle bones
of everyone who’s ever touched you

always lit like a window in an opulent dream
this place where everyone wears dresses
and no one ever thinks to ask your name
loneliness is a hamper and heartache
is eternally for breakfast, served over easy

with tea, of course

i want to talk to prepubescent butterflies
smoking peace and posturing philosophy
aces and spades kings and queens grinning cats
roses that bloom and bleed and bloom again
always late all this hate always late

shadows are made from silence turned sideways
and music is the way your mouth moves
time is a harness on the horse of hardship
dragging hard on the carriage of comfort

and i am the queen who wants to be whole
but no one hears me in here, knocking

.

don’t be afraid of the cracks and wrinkles
the pockmarks and pitfalls
the threadbare and worn spots

this is where you learn

no wait, that’s not right:

this is where you shine

bring your heart out
at least once a year
polish it up
plaster the wounds
give it some air

don’t be afraid

it’s not as fragile as you think

nor as bitter as the taste in your mouth

there is glitter on your tongue
baker’s sugar, marzipan molds

reshape the breaks

repurpose the shards

reuse the molten memories

don’t just lie there
in your mess of sharp edges

bleed a little

.

.
.

::

This post is part of Reverb 13:

Day 3: What does your heart have to tell you?

Also joining in today over at dVersePoets for Open Link Night.

::

you cannot deny the light

the way it colors everything
with the existence of shadow

i see hope in the mirror
of cracked faces

something deeper than darkness

some glimmer of innocence and
arbitrary renewal

random patterns weaving evidence
of participation

the glow of reverence

your compass leads the way
with no reflection

crazed crackled map
of delicate edges

leading to your last deliverance

with your heart
with your mind
with your soul

refuse
to listen
to ask permission
to be defined

your music
is your legacy
your song
your essence

refuse to be silenced

slice through the dark
with the call
of your hunger

unleash your fury

keen
in the presence
of light

warmth of sun
melting midnight crystal

the flag of patience
waves a cold, cold breeze

one touch too soon
and all will crumble

and this is my life right now.

i focus on the beautiful part,
the first dusting of snow,
the wind in tall grasses,
12 crows in the beige back field.

things taken for granted
are cherished once again.

frustration is an ugly word,
an impossible puzzle.
this word sits on my shoulder these days,
tap tap tapping… just to make certain
i do not forget.

i tell myself this will pass.
i tell myself that spring will come
with tiny green shoots and blood red roses.

i tell myself, again and again.

a bluejay lands outside my window,
a message to stay strong.

fight back.

rosehips and berries offer food
from a dry, barren landscape.

we eat, together.

and this is my life right now.

as i stood there waiting in a dust filled corner
smote and smitten with the angle
of a sun designed to rip my heart out
while you cursed and carried on

everything is always locked

but the eyes of this dark-haired girl
in a poster tacked to the blank back wall
her empty stare covering the hole
you drunk-punched open

on a night i will always remember

she knows everything about you
and i can’t read that droll expression
yet if i stand here long enough
in this spot of dancing light

my shadow will become her

december colors

wrapped in august light

the softest of shadows

in a promise of night

.

feather and rock

needle and stone

leaf and boulder

.

tree tall

and night fall

.

debris and detritus

claiming space

the shape of beauty

.

wind blown

and heart thrown

.

spinning spinning

in the grey pirouette

of hope’s abandon

.