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Brain Cracks

There are so many fissures in my brain

Asking for clearance, so many fixtures

Asking for guidance, crevices to dig out of,

gullies too spooky my name with.

My brain is a story I tell over & over again

Repeating my name with different syllables each time.

The stories we tell, our reality.

Many of mine are stuck, in cracks, wedged deep into the past

Of repeat, repeat, repeat

& sometimes you just want to Jump UP

Over the cliff and say fuck it.

Walk away & save falling, for another day.

Flying past levitation I meditate

To observe the patterns I have etched into this stone surface

Except it’s not stone

& though nerves may fail and die from lack of connection

& heart attacks cause exhaustion from repeated exposure

neural pathways ARE alive, re-forgeable and plastic

This is more like a garden we grow

Each time we open our eyes,

Open our hands

with roots that can be re-grafted, removed, and transplanted

&

there’s a reason we bleed.

Stones can’t.

Copyright Adrienne Adams October 29th 2015

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Full Flowered Knowing (Mini Chapbook Release tonight at Shelf Life Books!)

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Did I mention that I’m releasing my first (mini) chapbook tonight at Shelf Life Books (1302 4th St Sw Calgary, AB) during Woolf’s Voices 8?

Come on Down to get a copy! ❤

Full Flowered Knowing

I have a belly full of fur

Flowering on the bloom of what you gave me

Then rubbed my salts

Till wounds burst forth from

The ground of our walking

Treading too many times the same story

Multi-coloured imaginings

Don’t make up for tear drops

Falling on the petals of words spoken

In sleep deprived haste

Wasted on frustration

You spoke daffodils and I wished for summer

Still you wanted me to pay for scotch free

Nothings of gifts I drink down all I’m offered

And refuse to spit up the leftovers

I know what I’m worth

I will not let you take back what you’ve offered

And throw it away on someone else

I clench fists

Grow gardens all over my skin

This is how the cycle begins

Weed out the love and let the true trying begin

I’m crying

Because I know better than to let bees

Into the bonnet of my offering

Yet they keep seeking refuge in a place that makes sense

Trappings hold fears of no return

Unrequited pollination

You desire what I can’t have

And I forge gardens in my skin

Thinking I can heal the stigmata of sociopaths

As if I’m some kind of saint

I take on the challenge of gods and fall short

Forgetting to wet my goddesses on the thick rain

Of knowing who I am.

I’m learning to breath

Take one step at a time

Remember to dance at the turning of the tide

To practice for our craft is only

Honed in baby steps

I keep time the learning of my life

Wondering if this is something I can break free from

Or if my garden will finally sing with the full form

Of knowing

It is growing

Finally into something beyond its means

A belly full of laughter

I vibrate on the fat of experience and drown you in tears of regret

Which water the soil and quench my thirst

I am dirty

Since when did I think you would EVER,

come clean?

Adrienne Adams April 8th 2014

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