A PRISMATIC LIFE

Stare back with me into my memory,

(as I mix it with fruity imagination,)

at the slender channeled 14k circle hugging my left ring finger,

tiny diamonds glittering icily,

heart in my hands,

pulsing with a remembrance,

of a love never quite given, never quite received

Now glance with me as I pause in a bathroom mirror,

at ancient roots

that belie me as a woman of a certain age,

A sterling reminder

that I need a touch up

See with me now

a dark wine night of booze inexperience

on a date with M and a pizza,

that has me repainting a different bathroom in a sort of Jackson Pollack style, if you will... I’ll never do THAT again

Listen, Suzanne is playing, LC singing his velvety gravel, flowing in my ears like honey dripping into them.

Of tea and citrus,

all the way from the East, waterfalls of guitar charmed notes soothing my teenage heart,

As always, loving my parents’ music

Lazy, open, countryside window,

5:47 am,

eyelids a flutter to the purest morning light,

can’t wait to start the day, who needs a cup of thin mud?

But hang out and cuddle with me for a few, honey.

Late May, early June, as far North as I’ve ever been, when my seafaring home pulls into port we double the population.

The air!

I never knew about a thing called a temperate rainforest until then,

about 12 of us,

hiking and being on the guided lookout for bear bread stuck to lacy tall sheltering trees, and also for bears!

A nested bald eagle relaxes in the nine pm sun, how do they know? Starfish and eagles,

bear bread and whales.

A glassy ocean and a space inside me now to match.

Let’s get a drink here

Dive bar, NOLA, April ‘08

I happen to be happily eavesdropping on the funky band dudes seated next to me,

hearing them talk about the gig in a few hours and the equipment right out there in the van.

I once hit on Jodie, please, these guys are nothing to be afraid of.

Before long we’re jamming! I’m standing on a table with mic in hand and down comes the house!!!!!

I’m a Steamroller, baby!

Then there’s The Place, somewhere inside,

where sweet pansies and impatiens fill my nostrils and amethyst glows and I am communing with the highest Me,

The Place I can ride on the curl of a fractal to,

the Heaven Place,

Far removed from and watching all the action, hanging out at the ski resort on Olympus, chillin’ with the other Goddesses on vacay, babe,

doing what we do, drinking wisdom deeply from gleaming goblets, knowing all is right with the world.

And now a Small girl, Big eyes, bright and dark, round as the sun

Two pigtails flank her little face,

gazing up at her brand new baby brother a week now in mommy’s arms and not in her belly anymore.

Peach fuzz head,

eyes temporarily different from ours,

but they darken quickly.

Treetrunk hair too, all of us.

What a difference a dye bottle makes.

Early experience with diminutive edible gems,

Persephone’s own,

Still my favorite food and ticket to the mythical underworld.

Ah winter!

A more powerful wine never stained the snow. I can crack it open and share with you.

That's how it's going,

Here's where it started...

First, Liz T is the only one who knew about MY COLORS

I didn't know what I was talking about, in the most technical sense

But I found out later

At the hands of a dear teacher

that I did know, on a very visceral level

what the hell I was talking about, at 12,13, carrying around a sleeve of cheap bright markers

and a sketch pad, everywhere I went

purchased with my babysitting money

I largely ignored about half of them

I really got into the rest of them

"my" colors

is what I called them

my bestie knew which ones they were and would arrange them for me on the bed

too bad she dropped me when she got too popular

so I knew these colors

and although what I learned later in life

at the hands of a dear teacher

was what is actually called "saturation" is what I called "level,"

and I could see so clearly

that all "my" colors had something in common, I just couldn't name it

and then hell happened on earth in my life

and I would have ended it all, everything, if not for the bracelet

the dream of the bracelet

a beaded bracelet

made from beads and wire

it woke me up!

I was 15 and dying inside

when my Saviour came in the form of a bracelet

a dream about a bracelet

a bracelet made from cheap beads and cheap wire

that I found in the hobby shop after school the next day

and with babysitting money

I purchased the beads

I purchased the wire

and went home to make my dream come true!

and I learned to stitch together colors, and textures

into patterns and pieces

and now I make small works of art

from beads

from color

stitched together like the quilt of my life

I am also a Welder, Like Cherrie Moraga! but my work requires no heat source.

I have built and rebuilt my life, myself, my work, again and again, too,

just on a smaller scale

I am now working

on weaving a legacy

for my precious and beautiful nieces and nephews

their auntie is a colorful character who can do many things

and loves them to pieces

I have made my mistakes

I have my regrets

but I will not apologize for who i am,

and I will not have them apologize either.

The colors of my life require no explanation or apology.

I am exactly the right shade of human.