Blog
it’s easy for me to stop loving you
The way the bobcat becomes rattlegrass on Inverness ridge The way a footprint is the mainsail then the lost visa You’re not new I’m datura along I-5 A ghost rattle This is how i came to Bloody Bay Tobago and to a husband who made sure the cupboard was full but dragged me by my hair from the bed to the joining room This is how women become fog and smoke and 1000 starlings leaving the city before you awaken
So it’s 8:48 PM at night, I’ve been trying since 1:30 PM to paint, to write and to make medicine. To have a day to myself. It still hasn’t happened. And it’s not because I’m not trying. I can’t even finish a cup of coffee without it getting cold like that. It’s not boundary issues. It’s responsibilities. And caring for others, I know I need to care for myself, but it’s not that easy. Don’t judge or deconstruct me. O, and I even said no to several things asked of me today.
Black beans and purple onions in a Jicara.
Setting out offerings for Ṣọ̀pọ̀na tonight.
Mood self portrait using Willow charcoal.
ICU
all night the bells and whistles letting us all know
death is just around a corner
she see us in our blue and white hospital gown
ass to the wind//fuck off world//
and it's never beautiful
tubes probes and all manner of violation
bring me cedar and spruce maybe a can of gas
a blow torch and a bottle of gin
i’m on the ground Low lower than that Buried
beneath all the decades and regret
i wear this battle like a shawl
i am mist and disappear then reappear
pacing the halls Walks to the car
for my flask for Hashish for sanity
Gods help me i can’t do this
i drift or sing through time zones
perhaps tomorrow i will speak or move
i have become granite submerged at flood tide
i cry and the nightjar comes
i can lay here for hours days seasons one million chapters and still not see a waning
or have an understanding of why the Angelica fades too quickly
Still working on, No Woman No Cry on the banjolele
Worked in the sing again today and leaned a few more cords and a some new picking. #BestEver
Shampoo Bar Inspired by the Ancient Haircare Rituals of the Red Yao Tribe
I received a surprise gift from a close sister. A special shampoo bar! I love the idea of further reducing my plastic usage. It’s tough to do but really important. Can’t wait to try it!
Laying in bed practicing, “No woman no cry” by Bob Marley on my banjolele.
Pretty much got the cords down. Working on the strumming then will start on picking.
Wooden Yemaya carving from Nigeria with brass and seed bead detailing. This carving is about a foot and a half tall and is very detailed, front and back. Pictured is the left side of her face.
Bubble wrapped two wooden carvings from Nigeria today. Yemaya and Ochun. I stopped and asked myself, “Are you ok? Are you well?” The answer is no. I’m not ok. We are in fire season here. Seems like that’s all I do these days is prepare for it. Doing my best to make sure we don’t loose everything. Can’t have all this stuff just sitting in this cabin though all the evacuations.
Besides packing up these things I’ve been restocking and topping off the Travel First Aid Kits. Might share in inventory of what I put in them. Meh. Gotta keep it movin’.