which camera do i look at? Welcome back. again. today sits squarely on the other side of a multitude of milestones; cosmic, minute & otherwise. as with all revolutions (of the cyclical nature) the same old faces cast on this season's ill-fitting beat. digital lurking may not be catching but maybe this will be the year of gloryholes. all my other ideas need therapy. i finally wrote new poems. they are coming out cross-wired. each new piece split & undoing itself as fermentation begins. I don't not edit my poems but they normally exit my pre-material place with stronger silhouettes. my new work exits me deconstructed. i hate puzzles & this isn't that.
elsewhere, i am not resolving to do anything, in particular. my newest regimens are still new & not connected to shared typicality of time. every day has been living in the corner of my room. recently all my dreams have taken place in the backstage of nightclubs. I don't have an audience but patrons. I'm getting the talent dressed. Working in your dreams makes being awake & broke even more infuriating.
To be a woman doing it for herself. Never without help. I am a woman in need. I feel the needs I see. I want my needs met. A man that I love told me I needed to find someone who looked at me like I was Cleopatra -- a man who would build a pyramid just at my slightest glance. I didn't think to tell him of the man who I didn't love but was a lover wrote & staged a play retelling our love between Anthony & Cleopatra. He went so far cast a symbolic doppelganger of sorts. He sending poem packets to presses dedicated to me. These aren't the monuments I want especially from him (his life's work upon first meeting was a play about a trans white slave owner who was trying to free his enslaved "crush"). I see my own grave I was making with him & still had time to climb out.
I want to not be a mystery to my love. Anyone who loves me sees me. I don't try to make it hard. Even people who challenge my default settings. Love for me dissolves the unnecessary fantastic that clouds my connections. I am spectacular least to loved ones & they get the best of my shows.
Already had my heart broken once this year, but it was of my own fumbling. begin the year with a wound & i hope to forget the scar by spring. i'm too loved to be a kind of lonely. i know what i want still. i'm humbled by how much work I've given myself.
maybe this is the year of recognition on a new level. this is my fifth year committing to this life professionally. full time? what i lack in financial security, I make up for in audacity. or all my art will be intrinsically more valuable when i'm dead. i think too often which hateful fuck will claim relation to me if I dropped dead right now.
I'm heavy on my Saturn's shift. last year was a grounding. before me is a birth. new mouths to feed. new stunts to plot. new treachery in every image.