We made it. Oh my goddess, we made it. You sent me this beautiful green
chair with this beautiful green woman in her beautiful light blue
white strapped shoes. She looks like a bluebird. She feels like a deer. She
is laying on this beautiful green chair like a feather. I think of erasing my
Mother while I believe she is here. She is floating, see how the legs are
dark and in shadow. She is floating, see how her eyes are tipped down
and she feels herself tall inside the forest that she is listening to the forest
believing it is her; the birds are speaking for her. She is lovely. She is
magic. She knows. She knows as deep as deep as a chair knows.
You sent her to me ten
feet away melting in soft green mint white light that is misting from that
lawn chair now because it is holding us between our frozen spaces. We
are softer for it, for feeling the mist, for experiencing it like fabric,
for feeling the towels we were wrapped in out of the tub, for knowing how
our stomachs curve to each other when we hug and breathe and laugh
because we know it. It is scary. It doesn’t seem write. It doesn’t seem
right. I will love just like I love this green chair in front of me. I will
move on because I need to be alone. I need to have friends. I need to
learn about friendships. Not Titantics. Not barges. Not fishing ships.
Friendships. That is what I need in my life and I have.
I will make an installation tonight of a green tent and bathtub.
I will finish my paintings of crystals. I will work on the totems for
healing. I didn’t come here to do anything I said I was going to do.
Why am I such a romantic. Why is there poetry in everything. Why
do I believe this is a book release, all set up for a book release, and one
syncing period. Why is the lamp on its side. Why are all the chairs in
my studio. Why do I see fish everywhere. Why do I feel ghosts.
This article appears in October 2015.
