Battling to Birth Wild Balance

“What matters in life is not what happens to you but what you remember and how you remember it [to tell the tale].” ~ Gabriel García Márquez


My bit of the North revealed its skull hollow on a mad Tuesday. Mandibles dropped for cover, tongues lashed out in outrage, and no less than 1,001 fists (per nanosecond) pumped towards the heavens in despair—dark clouds and powerful men with darker souls gave exactly zero fucks. But… worry not, my Ink Warrior, today’s babies sharpen their teeth on the neckbone of injustice.

I art my words strange,
fill my tales with blood and feels.
My poetry howls
of love and other demons
battling to birth wild balance.


the wee notes…
– If Death had not felt the need for the best of storytellers, my dearest Gabo would’ve turned 91 today. He has been gone for almost 4 years. To celebrate his amazing life, I chose 4 of his quotes, crafted them into a blackout poem, expanded the poem into a tanka, and grew it into the tanka prose you’ve just read. Also, the fourth line of the tanka is the title of one of Márquez’s novels. Feliz cumpleaños, mi Gabo, your words will always live in needed tales.
– I apologize to those of you who were expecting the next bit of “In a Normal (probably-pre-apocalyptic) Reality”. I’ll post it next Tuesday. I just couldn’t skip my Gabo on the anniversary of his birth.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.


Every once in a while, I forget just how much I delight in Frankenstein(ing) my blackout poem bits. Then, the muse remembers, stitches them together, and we birth something deliciously warped:


Ink my body into temptation,
then art the darkness with my want.

You see, love is misery
and happiness,


when your words love me well,
the world finds all the right spots
and life moans her pleasure.

I want us—
cradled by our warped
selves, attached to our old
and terrible…
I want us.


the visual poetry

crafted for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55 and Poets United (Poetry Pantry, 393).