birds fly

are you nervous?

i don't get nervous.

have you practiced.

no.

i'm not sure he got where i was coming from, it's not in my nature to fret about things, these things anyway. just as it is not in the nature of a bird to sweat flight. they just fly. poetry is my bag baby.

and if by practice you mean, stand and read poems aloud. i did that scattershot the past few weeks, but i don't really do that. my practice is more of the mind. subconsciously. i said already i was at my read, i saw it go down. i practiced, amen.

tried performing my poem the way i want to do it tomorrow night and, well, let's just say i chose the wrong audience. started talking before i was done. i shut her up, but she was oblivious. and it's hard to consider that anything akin to practicing. it was more of an annoyance.

that's the thing, mi familia don't get it. this is a big deal, huge fucking deal. they have no clue. most of my loved ones and relations have no clue. but whatever, wouldn't be my first stab at misunderstanding.

so, i think i'm ready. if i don't get lost, and i won't, i'll be fine.

lifetimes have passed since i was there last. i have to not make it about him. though, inadvertently, it is. it always is. the whole poetry book stands on his grave, and it is hard to get around that. there would be no book if it were not for him.

so i go to honor him, to be myself completely and bury this book forever.

though i am booking time at a studio to record my works. i've had it on my agenda for a long time, i'm finally over putting shit off. it's time for me to make a cd. i have a customer who has a studio, blah, blah, blah. and, well, next week we're going to set up a time. it will be good kids, i can't wait.

damn, forgot me leather. i have to get it hemmed. that's a whole 'nother fiasco. who will do the work. if i get impatient, i'll just whack the bottoms off myself but that would be the way wrong way to go without knowing there is no other option.

went out for a drink after work last night. it was nice to talk with someone for a couple hours. hadn't realized. not invested, which is good. just having fun. that's the goal. just have fun.

getting ready for my poetry intensive which is happening in june. my god i live for these things. they really are like rehab for me in so many ways. three days locked up with twenty nine poets, just writing. it's wonderful. last time we went out for drinks then came back and broke out the whiskey. so, we'll have a repeat of the shenannigans this time around. maybe i'll dance for them. i'm not sure. i've been considering it, i know they want me to. i have worn my stuff around, but it's always been so brutally intimate for me, and back then, i couldn't sort it out. the loss was fresh.

things are getting sorted out now. what's mine, is mine. i can dance where i want, when i want. and so i shall.

work is essentially mindless for me now. i just do what i do, and move on. my one friend whom i adore (but no longer trust), smiles the biggest smile at me and tempts me to trust him again. but i can't. just can't.

it's time for me to adopt a new persona at work. just not sure what that is. i enjoy being myself. i think i'll go with this a little longer. i just can't fake nice because i'm told to, though i know the reasons for it. i understand it. he said to me last night,

she's a bitch for all the right reasons, as i'm sure you are.

which made me smile.

i don't know. we do not decide how we are perceived, remembered, thought about. we can only do the best we can with what we are given. the rest, it seems, is some crazy mix of fate and luck, or karma and inevitability. who knows.

that which is mine will come to me, i believe this.

and the hawk, a cooper's hawk, was on the side of the road by my old digs. i stopped my car in the road to encourage him to move.

what will you do little one?

he hopped across the driveway to the grassy patch between the street and sidewalk.

that won't be much better,

i said. not wanting to scare him with my pony which was about to pull into the drive.

then he hops about a foot farther and lights up in a short tree and watches us pull in. his speckled belly and diminutive size make him seem almost tame. but his talons were not to be ignored.

goodbye.

he stayed in the tree as i drove off to figure out what to do next.