I’m stuck in a circle my love
a loop going round and round
up and down
left and right
black and white he said
Someone once talked about the Yin Yang of it all
a tattoo on a shoulder
a girl getting older
a season leading to a summer, a fall, a winter
a cyclical thing
unavoidable it seems
a late night with no dreams
the morning sun rising
the moon not far behind
on repeat
Until
until what???
An unanswered question
Only death can bring
the new birth of spring
My breasts feel pendulous and heavy, a burden I don’t remember signing on for. Divine laughter. Maybe I was a man the last life with a glorious wife with sexy pendulous breasts. I dreamed somewhere inside of me to become her. So here I am, miserable, fleshy bags holding me down. I did not know her burden, the feeling of her flesh from the inside and now I do. Missing my tiny rosebuds. Or, perhaps in my last life I was a young woman, dreaming of someday growing her own pair of tits. But alas, my life was cut unseasonably short and as I was flying through the tunnel of light into my next life I screamed “Let me grow! I want to grow old enough for giant jugs that bounce and wave and eventually fall to my knees!!” And here I am feeling them droop towards my knees with the weight of hatred, sadness and powerlessness that life doles upon one from time to time.
Slow is a tongue no longer wagging but licking
Slow is a quiet mind
Slow is the lap of water against a dock, or legs, or rocks
Slow are the bubbles of champagne fizzing as the sun sets
Slow is the seed in the earth growing into the plant
Slow is the loud silence of nature
Slow is the wind making the grass dance in the light of the sun
Slow is the taste of hot black coffee, but not the sensation after when it hits the bloodstream
Slow is the aging nick nacks and brick a brack passed down from family member to family member
Slow is a nap taken at the top of a mountain or in a cabin of girls, the sticky heat of a lighting storm
Slow is the flu and a cat in your arms
Slow is rose petals, scent, tea, color
Lily Buckner
Moritz Bastian
Really enjoy this arm series. Hope you do too!
Tracy Anderson