I can not lie
my muse has caressed my temples
after falling to my knees at her
threshold.

Anima Hilda…
American English Grecian goddess…
I bring Gifts
of my braids,
long strains of hair
bunched into three
separated, twisted
I make a

Vocation.

I’ve seen the grey-eyed stare
that penetrates,
when our lenses meet,
after you twist your neck, head, and chin –
stretch toward your scapula –
Fierce.
And through the sheer screens of
                         the healing cured smoke,
my jellyfish tentacles stretch out
and
down
Like the wino
Like the weeping willow
My eyes weep on my animas lap
Pouting, wimpering
“it takes two or three people, you said…
but I am only one.”
in tantrum, I continued
“You said to take your time.
discover your voice.
The one-eyed poet said I
had the walk. Once I ….”

“Child,” she sneered

“The whole world is changing more
rapidly than ever before,
infinite amount of easily accessible information,
categories, subcategories, digital organization
– the datasphere.
it’s reflecting something – pulse pulse-
up on the hill.”