pollinateme

[pollinateme]

Antlers as a Metaphor

I find myself reflexively touching the two soft points behind either ear,

My tongue grazing the corners of an exposed molar, touching as feeling

Pain only created through inertia. Calcifying submission, 

Into prideful limbs unbecoming of a lady. 

It's easy to feel satisfaction at your own nature,

Benign growth imitating change, a cycle 

Of puffed chests and crossed limbs - wearing party costumes. 

Only inevitably, the rutting comes. 

Velvet dripping spiked punch, sucking on the penny you find in his coat pocket. 

To be adorned in your own flesh as sanctification, an organic altar 

To leave yourself behind, picked clean and white and virginal.   

I melt down coins from between the couch cushions, 

Before pouring it down the remnants of my dominance.

No one asked me to do this. 

A mold to form around my skull, holding it in place. 

Until inevitably, the removal comes.

Sweaty fingers, clambering over one another, to trace shapes on your body

Until She disavows the king of the trees and his phony crown

A self-inflicted immurement, my breath smells sweet.  

Have you ever looked a deer in the eyes?

I found myself distracted by his eyelashes as I read him this poem.

Soft spots approaching my mother hunched over her favorite garden, 

He slept on the floor my life fell apart.

I imagine him with those strips of bloody velvet, sucking on sugar

Sanctification as sport and routine and kinship, 

Patiently awaiting to collect the offering you grew for me,   

Inevitably, it rots - an act of God. 

[pollinateme]

In our rapidly changing society we can count on only two things that will never change. It is the will to change that motivates us to seek help. It is the fear of change that motivates us to resist the very help we seek.

The Dance of Intimacy -- Harriet Lerner, found in Bell Hooks' The Will to Change

[pollinateme]

No Coward Soul is Mine - Emily Bronte

[pollinateme]

the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.

Oscar Wilde - The Picture of Dorian Gray

[pollinateme]

tolerance

today i threw away my bong.

i have spent the last year throwing everything away,

a growing pile of filth, flies buzzing around

death tied in a lavendar scented bag.

sometimes i wonder if its growth,

or execution.

am i stepping up to the block,

my knees in - how ironic to go out on my knees - the blood

still warm from those i sent before me.

if i tear my own flesh,

emerge shiny and clean from a cavernous wound,

will i be satisfied?

will i still exist?

[pollinateme]

"Death & Co.' by Sylvia Plath from Ariel

[pollinateme]

literature is strewn with the wreckage of those who have minded beyond reason the opinion of others.

Virginia Woolf - A Room of One's Own

[pollinateme]

birthday

i hate my birthday

imagine trying to distract people from christmas:

two for one sock specials,

a card where 'merry' becomes a two humped h followed by letters that more resemble their origin than anything else,

the entire world shutters itself away.

but today i experienced a bon-e-fide christmas miracle.

the entire world donned colorful specs of light

some move or sing,

the entire world becomes swathed in color and whimsy.

they all donned their best dresses,

put on a fancy hat from the universe,

all for my birthday.

[pollinateme]

Rabindranath Tagore - Gitanjali: Song Offerings

[pollinateme]

blurred

cover filling every crevasse

i reach, fingers brushing the sky,

convinced its touchable.

i try to look for the horizon

it hides itself.

white, blank pages,

an untouched womb, potential.

slowly, it seeps, lingers on our home.

filling the mind with soft, broken memories.

[pollinateme]

i took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart.

i am, i am, i am.

-Sylvia Plath The Bell Jar

[pollinateme]

primordial seawater

i cry at stories.

an electric fence feeding on poppies.

on the other side, a stranger

stretching what once was inflexible.

they do nothing to stop the sap from draining.

who are you?

where are your friends and family?

what forced your hand?

i only wish to taste the salt of my own tears.

Beggar with a Staff in His Left Hand - Francisco Goya

[pollinateme]

'Poppies in October' by Sylvia Plath from Ariel

[pollinateme]

you are stronger than they make you feel.

-Kristin Cashore in Winterkeep

[pollinateme]

walking through time

my shirt clings to every feature,

soaked through.

every step, attempting to dodge an impossible target.

my eyelashes capture rebels,

dew drops on a web.

i stop in an ever-expanding puddle,

reflecting the multi-colored stars.

pinch myself.

for i'm standing in my dreams,

finally free.

[pollinateme]

"everything i had ever read about mad people stuck in my mind, while everything else flew out."

-Sylvia Plath The Bell Jar

[pollinateme]

behind you!

behind you!

crawling, dragging, limping, screaming, haunting, dancing.

fear sways in tree branches,

disguised as the trembling limbs on a dancer en-pointe.

it moves organically,

growing inside your womb.

do you feel it kicking?

swaying, mumbling, killing, possessing, terrifying, dancing?

life is not shadow,

turning, turning, a pirouette,

blurring the truth in desperation.