She is unreality, She is summer
blessed be she,
tiny flowers coming from the greenhouse
blooming in this summer of unreality,
blessed be she,
summer child, sweet sister tease.
blessed be she, blessed be she!
paint on canvas, who knows who to please?
discoverer of spurious quotations,
discerner of meme misinformation,
turning towards the sun and into the wind,
turning from patriarchal blotches clouding faces,
turning to recognize their rowdy escalations,
blessed be she, blessed be she—
embrace the tilt, relaxed and comfortable in coastal ease
walking off twelve seasons trapped within this season
of devastation punched by the fists of anthropocene rage,
censoring out the censors of this information age,
blessed be she. blessed be she—
slow build to hell’s front door no longer a phase,
she skips false fall and second summer creep,
true to her own cognition, embracing feminine intuition,
jumping waves to bounce in the blurring lines of the old sage,
breaking the glass to battle the rain
in the record-highs heading to dog days of delusion,
blessed be she. blessed be she—
sitting in the sands of summer in the hourglass of the un real
moving to break fast, a latecomer, eating shadows
burning time adopting rubber hands as her own.
blessed be she,
flower in the field sown in decaying lies,
sown in the simulation chasing vega to draco,
the snaking chain of stars visible in this city year round.
bound glory cancelled by stars linked fake and low.
blessed be she, blessed be she
basking with babes beyond this grand illusion
recognizing the faux, observing the manipulated
eager ersatz with sharp tongue, sharp tail.
blessed be she! blessed be she—
bow aimed at life’s desire to find expression and wail.
out past clickbait and upstream of the dream,
being genuine blazing trails beyond the pale,
active consumer, bleating her mantra: “where is the evidence?”
blessed be she— blessed be she—
shining bride skadi on the bones of the sea,
dancing in the middle frost where awareness forgets time,
in the middle revealing her faces, betwixt and between.
in the foggy middle where awareness has no space,
she recognizes you by your feet.
blessed be she. blessed be she—
the one who clearly sees the wood for the trees.
beacon in the mountains to beckoning lighthouse,
she turns a haboob into a simple breeze.
blessed be she. blessed be she.
spread out in landscape where dune meets ocean,
spread out with her critical third eye,
the tiny flowers wilt in the smoky, sinking sun.
tropical marine heat boils over driving pods.
life imitates art blushing toward nightfall at odds
in the blue zones where summer is shy.
bluewhite it burns, tailstar Thuban call
wobbles in precession on back and thigh
into this dark summer, into unreality.
brushing against the forbidden purple wall,
up and down, into the midnight sun, it flees
at last, summer asks, “which way is the sky?”
blessed be she, blessed be she—
