The Write Therapy

They ask too much, expect more from me. To sit in a room with gut wrenching, broken, beaten down souls. There is too much pain, upon the blood, stained walls. I cannot, I will not. I refuse to spill my intimate, tragic, sad story. This fight is personal, entirely my own. Between God and me, she is not the enemy. I wonder, I do. I can’t help but be curious, where did the cracks begin? The precise second the dam opened, were the leaks there all along?

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The words don’t betray me, they remain strong. I trust the visions, the intangible guide. As I work Georgia Pine., the sequel to The Vast Landscape, I am back there. The oh, so familiar place, I have not known. I have visited and revisited the soulful jungle, inside the hidden crevices of the mind. “Sweat trickling down her face. She envisions swampland, mossy bayou, a green so vibrant she cannot describe the magnificent beauty. Massive Cypress’, musk smell, painstakingly slow-moving, gator filled muddy waters.” 

I am reminded I have dreamt Louisiana before, bluegrass bayou. Through the eyes and mouth of a wild, reckless, blond angel, with the devil tattoo on her bicep. I loved her tales, I will visit sometime. And dance the day into night overtaken, losing track of space, obligation and time.

I choose the write therapy, for today that is what I decide. The stories drift in and out of memory, always returning in due time. The words sacred, a safe place to call mine.

For Kathleen, Reckless Beauty  -Milan ’95

Walking the streets

Wandering with no direction

Dancing in my negligee

The heat of the pavement tells

My tongue

Tastes the warm rain possibility

New Orleans, swamp and rust hinges

The blues brings me up

I dreamt of you, again

Riding your bike and laughing

You were young, glorious and free

Sitting a pinch above my right shoulder

I reach out my arms

Hug the damp air

Take a breath

Inhaling remnants

Smelling your skin

It’s fine

Everything will be

If I can only, get back

Thoughts of you, dead brother of mine

Spirits a’ plenty in the bayou

I’ll be back home, soon

In summertime

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