bleareyed never stopped me. (when moons collide)

i'm way too tired to be writing anything coherent, forgive me. i did not sleep last night, i cried mostly. and when i can't sleep or am overwrought, what do i do? yes, i write. probably the worst thing i can do. but this place of openness comes at a cost, i must be willing to go through the emotional meatgrinder publicly (sort of), a cost which while exorbitant to some, seems part and parcel of my poetic profession. (long sentences when i'm tired. a period just slows me down).

speaking of period, i should have an alternate title for this post, when moons collide. because when women work closely with one another, or are thrust together in enviorns, which they have to deal regularly with each other, their cycles coincide. so as we worked late into the night sharing oh too many intimate details (my kind of crowd), we discussed our monthly debt which was either being paid or the sore back boobs and legs indicate it's on its way. i'm more of a weeper. so weeping through ten hours, and the weeping hasn't stopped yet folks), is kind of an indication that a bad moon is rising. probably tomorrow. or when i least expect it or am least prepared.

my moons are like crapshoots, who knows when they'll come. they just appear, like bad company and you can't get rid of them until they are ready to leave. they stay too long and, well, you get the idea. the whole topic is really inappropriate, so let's leave off here, reminding ourselves of my, i've had no sleep since this time yesterday, so give me a break!

i'm usually nonfunctional after not sleeping. keep me up till midnight and i'm giddy. but tonight, my heavy heart needed a place to be thinking about something as mundane as sensoring and hanging racks and racks of clothes. i needed not to think about my all too dramatic life, and be free to weep as i felt the need. at least every hour i'd break out in a full blown bellysob. i started joking about it whenever someone would see me, but i couldn't help it. and i didn't want to.

i believe we grieve over people we love, because we have loved them. the evidence of love is grief. way back when i was grieving over my grams, i walked through an entire year draped in shrouds of tears. i did not attempt to quell the flow. i danced, and wept, actually.

i don't know if there is anywhere i can dance (liturgically), but maybe my belly dance will substitute. i started tai chi and it almost killed me but i loved it. a deep squat for forty five minutes is enough to give anyone the shakes. but i felt like a heroine addict going through withdrawals i was so shaky by the end. but i loved it. a moving meditation. my mind is way too busy here to ease back in to other types of meditation i found so familiar back in rural texas. new york is my proving ground, and i think i'm not doing so well. in terms of the peace ratio. while i do attain moments of piece. they are moments only. i'd like to see a whole string of those moment lined up to the street and back.

perhaps i'm more comfortable with grief and sadness. i hope not. i want to rejoice. i want to dance for joy. to belly dance for my love.

i must go, tears are drawing nigh.