Scars Are Lived Art

A scar can be art,
life written
on the body,
experienced art-

tales of flesh
surviving
warped living

in the street of the sky,
where heartbreaks are wormholes
forever warning the night
as she walks
scattering poems… … …

Scars are lived art
written on the body,

experienced art-tales
of flesh that survived the dark,
dark, dark.

 

the wee notes…
– the 3 blackout poems feeding this piece were crafted out of Andrea Hutton’s Bald is Better with Earrings: A Survivor’s Guide to Getting Through Breast Cancer. I’m not in the habit of using contemporary books for blackout poetry, but I just couldn’t resist this one. So, I went ahead and reached out to the author, and she was gracious enough to allow me to art her words. I plan to blackout the entire book. I shall share more on the book, and on why I’m so taken with its content, in a future post.

– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, where darling Sanaa invites us to write a poem using this ee cummings line as point of reference: “in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems”. Also, after I finished the blackout poems, I noticed that the middle piece contains the title of a novel by Jeanette Winterson.

the visual art

 

Blade and Poison, Hammer and Shield

The dark that makes me stagger has little to do with the night. You know this, and the shine of your knowing suns away chills threatening to lair in dying pieces of me I can’t banish… alone. Menace rotting its way through my flesh won’t be defeated without blade and poison, without well fed grins, without you understanding… me. You, my sword and hammer, my compass and shield… when the unknown threatens my breathing, when bad blood blinds my dreaming, I feel your eyes, hear your lips telling me, “I’ll always be here”, lessening the worst, fighting all fright… with you.

through thickest darkness,
the soul sees her truest loves
offering a hand

 

a wee note…
– frankensteined from 2 poem bits I published on Instagram. The senryū originally read “friends” instead of “loves”. Linking it to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

and here is some of the inspiration

my Piano Man and I spent last Sunday at Terrificon. After a week dedicated to pre-mastectomy arrangements, spending a whole day doing something I love doing, and doing it with someone I love doing… um, is awesome. And, of course, the bookish loot is nothing to frown at *wild giggles*

 

my beloved Mistress Emma, creatrix of Groovy Gothic yumminess, sent me a copy of Drawlloween 2017, by Mizna Wada. I’ve told myself that I will save it for some Halloween flash fictioning, but… that might be a laughable fib. I mean, really

 

a bit busy? I know, I know but… you see, the “Witchy Woman” copper bracelet and the skully earrings I received from Phillip, The Traveling Poet, look so happy hanging from my thorny bouquet that… I couldn’t get myself to remove them from their I’m-not-wearing-them-now-home to photograph them for you

 

Gina, my Daydream Believer (feeling a tad possessive *cough*) sent me an INK box. It’s full of bits for cleansing and banishing and growing and loving and dreaming and dancing and… I might show some of it to you one of these days, but not today

 

my Rhissanna (yep, possessive *not even coughing*) sent me a LOVE bunny. The bunny delivered several wee bags for me (and one for AlmaMia Cienfuegos, I can’t show you that one because the wild girl insists on blogging about it herself in the future… I don’t argue with girls who throw rocks so accurately) and a spoon

 

my sweetest and dearest Stacy, wild goddess of Magic Love Crow, surprised me with a notebook and a tote made extra majestic by her art. I have so much to say about these two gifts that… I will have to write another post to explain it all

 

this one doesn’t belong to me, but… I had to share it. I just wanted to avoid any future disappointment to anyone who might’ve been wishing to claim Batman’s crotch (or, perhaps, his tights), someone at Terrificon claimed it all *sigh*

 

thank you, Emma, Phillip, Gina, Rhissanna, Stacy… for the gifts… for the intent… for the love… I cherish all of it. I also wish to thank those of you who have reached out with soothing words, with understanding words, with a seemingly simple “I am here… thinking of you… hoping for you… making no demands… just letting you know that I’ll always be here” (your loving creepiness completes me). And you, my Wicked Luvs, who always stop by this blog or Instagram or Facebook… to read my life-fed-words, I hope I never fail to let you see that you keep my ink going while I trek through darkness that has little to do with the night. You rocketh very mucho