continuing poetry month

I just found this, so this poem isn't the reason that I'm going to get a map of the moon tattooed on my back. But it perfectly explains why I've wanted to.

Not The Moon by Margaret Atwood

What idiocy could transform the moon, that old sea-overgrown
skull seen from above, to a goddess of mercy?

( You fish for the silver light, there on the quiet lake, so clear to see; you plunge your hands into the water and come up empty. )

(no subject)

A friend of mine grows his very own brambles
They twist all around him till he can't move
Beautiful, quivering, chivalrous shambles
What is my friend trying to prove?

The booze turns a tall, gentle boy to a terrible totem
And the kids gather 'round trying to see what's inside
I think when he's drinking he's drowning some riot
What is my friend trying to hide?

'Cause it's breaking my heart, it's breaking my heart
And it's breaking my heart to pour like the rain
Brother of mine don't run with those fuckers
When will my friend start singing again?

When will my friend start singing again?

bored to depth

My brain does this thing when there are deep, important conversations that I'd rather avoid having with myself, where it distracts me with cool things that will keep me busy in contemplation for a while. I'm getting better at just noting them down for later and moving on to the more important stuff.

# People like me aren't dangerous because we're bad, we're dangerous because we defy classification. There can be no such thing as informed consent when dealing with the unquantifiable. That's why people are afraid of the unknown. It's a consent issue.

# We don't get to choose what we mean to other people, and what people mean to us is not what they are, no matter how much they mean to us. It's the first time I've been able to articulate that, but I've held the belief for a long time. Now I can back-figure for the reactions of people who don't believe that, and have a more accurate view of them.

# My spiritual practice involves dirt. I don't know how I keep forgetting that being in dirt and fixing my garden reconnects me to myself, but there it is.

# I realized that broadening my experiences would give me more, quantitatively, in common with other people, but that was after I was already doing it. I think I started because I was frustrated with what I would eventually learn to call re-contexting. I saw the same facts other people had, but I knew I didn't see them in the same way, and I was tired of being confused at the difference.