15 November 2009
Living In the Mythic

It was slang my former husband and I had… that we had a habit of living in the mythic. Others saw a tree stump- we saw a witches hair growing into tomorrow.

Today I sat in the iron vault, weighed in on all sides by progress. They locked me away, with the rest of the progress, lest my truths shake the world free. Afterwards the herses lined up for detailing… I am tired of my details, pages of numbers chiming out the days.

My stomach is heavy from swallowing the sun, pendulous as an ancient breast or designer handbag. Blessed be this coming dawn inside me.

The feast was laid out before me as the pages held me fast in ancient Britain, modern California. I am laid out between sour cream and Avalon, pollo and ink wells. The machinery waits, needing my sweat and fear, and instead I cherokee dream, remember his flesh under mine, over mine. He is a lifetime away, a plus sign away, and somewhere on the other side of tomorrow two towers cry.

I keep walking. Had to keep walking. Everywhere I turn is Tuscon, is bike messengers. Everywhere I turn is details, numbers, raising and falling with CDC notes and indications. I check my teeth again, check my memories again, check the numbers again and talk myself out of a glass of horchata.

On the train, 7 feet of lean sunglasses and plaid, the creature climbs off the train at Encanto to forage the city. I read another page, laugh at being in the desert. The desert, where holy men go crazy and crazy men become holy… what is the difference anyway. The sun beats down. A mosquito bite on a red tattoo, painful and invisible, itches its way to attention as I sit at the rivers edge and watch the shopping carts slide by.

Plans and signs fold, unfold, melt away. I kiss a lover from thousands of miles away, kiss my tears away for thousands of miles. Two Jims mix themselves up on your tongue and my past. Pare down, pick it up, turn another page… its all speeding up to wait. Hurry up and wait.

Forever in a magazine, forever in another pill, forever on a magi’s tongue.

I love, I live, I dance in the Mythic.