a morning prayer

Ugghhhh gaaa but i don’t want to feel guilty, just that
first thought best thought glean

I want to go, see the sights that have been seen sing the songs that have been sung to oh god look back over the mes I have struggled for, have become past over retrieved and long since over again been and learned to be.  I don’t want him to come along.  I want to look back over, I want to call back over, I want to drag out from under~I want to tell myself, don’t bother, look anyway, it’s not about him, you   w i l l    always    (anyway)GO

It sickens me saddens me I gave up on this.

It sickens me saddens me I thought this, words, the nape of my neck, my own hair, grown of someone else’s body??

This isn’t a sweet tap elegy.  This isn’t and wasn’t meant to be.  It is 10 years since milk maid sailor, maiden virgin, crazy maenad took her own life, 10 years since barren brick brack and knotty pine yes and dust and foggy sea breath took my own.  I go back.  I have to, it is all I was, all I have, nothing to own.

I forget how to do this.  It’s been so long. I am embarrassed of myself, of my self-indulgence but more of my embarrassment of my self-indulgence.  The hot wick of shame for others shame inverted now, finally? On me.  The sun comes out.  I wonder, does he see?

I don’t want to tell him.  Love will always be ambivalent and also, it doesn’t have to have anything to do with that, either?  I grieve my young self.  She who hadn’t reached out for her dreams.   She had nothing to lose and everything to gain.  She gained it, and lost her gems, unseen.  It is her I wish now, I call to, for, hope to retrieve.

I send him pictures of morning hair loose in loose fit tank.  In my dream he is a boy from when I was wild and I hate being there in the drug room of a drug house.  In my waking he is a boy from when I was a wild, he is a man tense with man-child, I am a woman kissing him alive and giving all to maintain my own preciousness, awhile.  In my dream I come home.

I come home, it has been 10 years.

I come home, it has been twice as many seas.

I come home, Ashland from Crater Lake, too much money I don’t have, nothing has changed.  I come home.  That is ok.  This is a prayer for the borderlands, the edge has its own space to make place out of neither this nor that.  I come home to the death face, the motherless maiden confronting the toothless hag cooking her own flesh fat over the live heat, it is all and nothing is a ruse.  I come home to the bone cave and know it, know this is it, where I am, I eat, I feast a long while, the young girl on the jetty rock is lit in gold steam, the tide is rising, the beat is beat and coming for me, I come for it, I am in the Dogwood, I am at Winchester Bay, I hear from Molly, I come out from nod from Sam, I am everywhere, I am retrieved, I am knotting myself, I am relieved, I am absolved, I am flesh liquid beneath sea, I am full of nothing as the sky, I am all things, I am ever obfuscate bc I am not this nor that, but ever also always midline walker, struggling & terse and pang-eyed, glean toothed, in-between.

This is a morning prayer for the best of things, a morning prayer for that from this and some from that, too, what I need, what I am, what I was, for who~

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