Sandy-haired

I summoned you so hard
So in earnest
Sent out all my Super-she energy
With such sheer-will
With mountainous hope
Which always worked so well for me

But found only my own enlightenment

It can only be the powers that be
Felt fit to see
You find yourself
Crawling
And not
Mountain climbing

Sandy-haired, please find yourself

Alias

For some purpose, a scheme most grand

He, needing your needles now, whispers your alias

Loving only his broken-record voice

Revolutions — he cannot keep count anymore

I, with clean heart and tear-stained kitchen floors, no longer live to hear

My blessed middle name upon an Imposter’s lips

You and I, givers

Pawns in a taker’s desperate game

May you win with me

Lisa is Feeling Inspired….

Say something here and now to my writer’s eyes and heart. Tell me something mystical or bizarre about yourself. Share anything that will be cathartic for you, or will blow my mind. Enlighten me.

Post your own most favorite photo or other personal work of art.

Write a short story here, and I’ll collaborate and finish it with you.

Or, finish mine:

“Oh, how entirely good it is to be this aged age, having had all the conversations with all the different girls and women who I have been throughout these years! I know who I am, I know what I want, and I know what I am unwilling to do to achieve it. The beautiful mystery that remains is this: What magic-like means are out there in the world that I may take in order to manifest what I want?”