christmas 18

29 days until Christmas Eve (again)

28 more sleeps till She is Home (again)

a month of turning, tides, solstice wintering again

She is a soft lovely beauty

i’m taken to her folly and her lands of delight and of dreaming

her left eye is the dreamiest

in the last it was the right

with Her i look East and to the Southerner lands and levees and water

for turtles, for blue fish in aqua waters warm, for Mexico

“Get your passport in case you need to escape,” is no joke

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The Shootings

Last year’s Orlando shootings followed by the November National 2016 Elections were tantamount to the events that informed my going underground and to a better footing of safety in a dangerous terroristic world changing, shifting, abandoning, losing me.

The Depression ensued and it was terrible.

Winter came and left.

Spring came and left.

Summer was a wash.

Tonight’s Halloween and my forever lover and I will meet beneath the silvery islip of Luna tonight, hence.

I’m returning to Orlando the 1st week of December to meet with my Shaman for cleansing and visioning.

I didn’t believe I could go into the city again.

I didn’t believe I could go away like I did and like how I have been doing.

Hiding from the Trump Administration and seeing the world prepare for implosion is something now akin to a cigarette with 4 AM hot coffee. They are together, one and for always it seems now. He’s the shit under shoe that won’t wash away. He’s stink.

My world is changing again.

You must not ever stop being whimsical.

And you must not, ever, give anyone else the responsibility for your life.

Mary Oliver, Upstream (2016).

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