Tuesday, April 30, 2019

April 30

Tadpole pond

I stood on the metal bridge with mallards heron seagulls three drunk people & a Pekinese the Pekinese a black fluff scooting sideways in strong wind he hid himself behind a piece of driftwood I could see him but the drunk people could not they called his name the dog giggled one of the drunk men told me beavers eat the trees in the pond I told him the trees are alders they give their lives to Jesus every forty years the drunk woman said the other day Lloyd saw an otter float under the bridge and the otter looked at Lloyd then the otter floated to the other side and looked at Lloyd again then Lloyd confirmed this story shouting OTTER WAS RIGHT THERE then took a sip of his beer we talked otters & turtles & fallen alders & laughed in the weird morning.

Saturday, April 27, 2019

a love note from crazytown

I have been depressed for six months since I fell in the forest in fact and DOGNURSE told me just keep doing what you've been doing which is being depressed I remember being stuck like this with the Johnny Cash Psychiatrist who let me cut my Tegretol meds in half to jolt myself out of it I think DN has been overmedicating me is what I think but I have to give this some time to see if I am not manic inside this toothy depression to see if feeling better is real and not a mixed episode a decision which is just the fuckery of the disease if the depression is truly gone I'm going to less medicate myself

I rented Big Little Lies from my library and I watched the entire season at one time and so many trigger points that woke memories of the first man I lived with the abuser so many but I watched it through to the end and it was so good brilliant acting powerful

I saw an eagle in my tree yesterday and I looked at him and he looked me right in the eye as if to say here is your miracle

pay attention Rebecca

I think I have broken through this bout? round? infection? of depression I think so because I have been able to read for the past two days I think so because I have wanted to write I think so because I woke up and read my old blog and realized how much I miss that little fire inside me that made me want to write to be a writer I woke and wanted to be a writer again then I ran a bath then I realized that is still me I am still a writer I also wanted to buy some amazing looking lipstick shaped like a cat from a French website but I did not

instead I replaced my beloved blue toaster which finally gave up the goat after 16 years of stellar service with a new version of the same exact toaster and this fills me with glee and hope also the peonies

the wind is mighty today branches flying everywhere I have had bronchitis and have been coughing so hard that it made me dizzy which in turn made me not anxious to drive so I have been stuck inside my house which is much easier these days when I am not actually stuck because every day I walk outside and around my forest and marvel still I want to drive maybe tomorrow maybe tomorrow maybe tomorrow

in spite of the lack of figs on this island and my fig tree still being an infant fig tree all is well I have miraculously dusted and today I’m going to make English muffins and chant at my goddamn tulips who are taking their sweet time getting out of the ground buster

for now for today hope

Wednesday, April 10, 2019

The ever brilliant Angela Simione has two poems in the inaugural edition of  Recenter Press
Go read!


Thursday, April 4, 2019

April 4

I have three poems in the new issue of The Tiny and I have to take my car to the Honda dealership for regulation upkeep and I have a pimple on my face the size of Rome and and and I have to leave now like now and blogger is wonky and I am no longer a morning person though it took me 6 years to return to my normal circadian rhythms I stood on the porch last night and drank in the racket of the bullfrogs and crickets and this morning owls

Thank you!