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Over the last 4 weeks I lost everything. I've been gaining some things back, slowly. But I don't know what I will get back and what is forever lost. I lost my writing. And I wanted... was determined.. to learn to live without it. But I was scared. Fucking terrified.



It's back. Everything is a mess of laughing and crying and writing and writing and writing.



I have learned, god have I learned, where to place value in my life. What things matter most. And how to let go of the rest. I could live without writing. I just had to learn to want to. But writing is who I am. It is the small bright light that lives inside me. I don't know if I could have found my way back to it without vespera - the most brilliant, eloquent poet I know. Who didn't just walk the path with me, but made me believe that I would find that part of myself at the end.




I hope you can see yourself as you are and the gifts life has brought. And the beauty. And friendship. And love. And words.




They matter more than you can ever imagine.











UPDATED



The Story So Far:



dire wolvesThe coyotes are singing, high and wild,in the unsettled night; the moon is restless in her sky,the crickets hold their breath.The wolf at my feet is on high alert, body so intenseshe trembles, hums low in her throat -without the pack-song you are the swift-hearted prey andthe night has sharp teeth.Only the keening of the pack on their endless hunt.Only the aching.





when she cut out her voiceShe is lost and the monster is coming. Her head tilts and jerks like a bird balancing lightly on the bladed grass.There is a ringing phone in her hands and it confuses her so much her chest aches and she begins to rock, tracing the blue buttons as if they might speak. Press down. A voice.This she knows. This voice is strong and limber inside her whiplash of a body. So thirsty, she whispers. I got lost. She tunes in and out. The cadence of a voice who knows that to keep talking, on and on, means life to the listener who is trying to blend the music of voice and whispering corn blades and that far off discord that means danger.Later she wi...








uninvitedI cannot feel the cold,in the skin stretched tight over the tumbled stones of knuckle,the rippling ladder of muscles stepping up my spine, arched,the stillness of the hunter, settling into dawn,and the easing of breath


tornado girls can fall in loveYou can destroy yourself in the most fundamental of ways.Not have the words to speakor tell anyone who is listeninghow you can be deeply restless, or the tidal wave of grief is too hugeand crushingbut there is still such a potential for happinesseven here, in the eye of the stormI hold safe the voice of love, needing you to repeat I will never leave, I will never leave you, you need to trust me. I hold your voice like a lifeline,because even a careless heart can break.





the schizophrenic worldI have died twice in my twenty-eight years.Survived my own suicide againand then again and again.Learned to live and breathe through my own destruction,not stop loving myself or tomorrow,the restless sun that keeps dawning.I still have not learned how to grieve, which implies regretand loss is just one way to see the way reality bends around me,but my hands are not empty, no - may never be.You took those agonizing steps to keep me breathingand then stood solid to help me live.Laughed and cried with me, weren't afraidto say I was hurting you or welcome my tomorrows.Saw only love and more love, incredible joyand hope.


the giftEveryone asks how I lived.Medical miracle implies the hand of godand they keep sliding religion across the table.The true story is not so grand but better, still.God was not in that still room while machines pulled each breathinto a body that trembled, waiting to pass into the unknown.I was alone.For three days I waited to let go, but held on,because miles away the phone lines held me to the shell of my skin.Two beautiful people carried me, spoke of me, alive,without hate or judgment, and I lived there in the worldthey built in the air, me alive, in the glow of the ordinaryand seeing the world I could step into, safe between them,I stayed.




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MY ENTIRE LIFE IS FOR SALE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



Like one of my paintings? (You can see crappy photos in my gallery!) MAKE AN OFFER!


Want MY copy of Written on the Body with annotations by me?


EVERYTHING IS UP FOR GRABS. GO CRAZY.









I have $3.45 left for the month and I gotta have minutes on my phone and gas in my car or they will take me away back to the hospital. So help me stay free. Help me have a way to talk to the people I love and drive to the classes I must take. Nothing else in my life matters as much as that!







SOME THINGS FOR SALE:


The Proof copy of Hallucinations, Cancer & The Purple Tree

ALL MY POETRY BOOKS.

Fight Club, etc

All of Stephen King

ETCETC



Want me to pick a novel for you? Or a new poet? Maybe a grab bag?










GO AHEAD AND ASK. I can probably fill any desire!

















SOLD:



Written on the Body

Proof of Hallucinations, Cancer & the Purple Tree
















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