the poet making hope

more healing work?  it never seems to end.  titanium quartz around the neck. she pulled the death card, hanged man, and the hierophant.  guzzling mineral water out of cold green glass.  i am done kicking and screaming.  life is part pain in the ass.  fortitude, check.  patience, check.  surrendering to the enormous task i set out for myself, check.  being strong and doing what is right, no matter how deeply it hurts, check.  she said it’s at the level of letting go of the thought forms.  snakes and demons and covert operations, oh my.  big old red hands and a deceptive voice.  crouched in a corner.  innocent unrest.  they’re still letting off fireworks at 3 am.  BOOM!  fuck you!  i am awake!  this is an alchemical time.  i am turning myself inside, ringing myself out…saturating in yellow, turquoise, purple, and inundating this drought…with color.  painting what i know to be true.  all forms of security coursing through as faith and feeling.  fundamental fantasies i will bring into reality.  through the community she heralds with her north node in the tenth house.  this is the job of the poet.  we are shape shifters.  i follow the leader who lets me lead.  the death of prejudice, fear, and greed.  sky, you sit quietly today.  clear blue honesty holds me, like i’m inside of your eye.  coconut oil slathered on skin heated by the summer sun.  a morning run through the neighborhood. a single black bird flying past the black of an open window.  open mouth.  open hips.  open heart.  little dips into succulent mystery.  a tiny crab leg found in a shoe.  fluorescent sunset lightning storm.  drinking red wine with you, plopped on a rock.  unable to talk about myself.  a good listener.  nurturing like the puget sound waves.  her tide coming in.  new lines being drawn.  that old dog, he don’t come around anymore.  no, the dog is gone…the dog is gone.  the world is such a wonderful place.  i am referencing a song.  the old way is falling.  what is was, is gone…