(self portrait with anxiety poem)
Problematic automatic panic.
Doesn’t stop just because you want it.
Nothing has been won easily
when opening a door or answering a phone
grabbing a god damn live wire.
My heart jumping, pumping, racing.
Full of adrenaline.
Nothings been done easily,
So has everything been worth doing?
Because I don’t want to answer the phone, open an email, meet for lunch, buy a vowel.
Wanting to lay down in a field of dandelions and daffodils.
Worth nothing. Common. Quiet. Fields of gold and cotton.
Blackbirds scatter, gather, light in tired, dying elms.
Blue pool from horizon to horizon til the sky is gone.
My blue heaven
floats a white butterfly and a few fat bumblebees.
…This I would like to continue and expand on, just like the self portrait has me thinking about a stylish series, black and white bleached pics with drawings….