AcmeShorts

SOME BARNACLES FROM MY JULY NOTEBOOK Sometimes we need to gift of our inner sanctum. The “living breeze” that zephyrs across the human landscape turns eddies in the sands of our emotions. We are but a developing poem. (see above) It’s so true the she-tapestry is a mosaic of the seasons. When my goslings departed I felt a hollow tugging that only a mother can know. We are a sisterhood who inhale all that is dirty and foul in the world and exhale beautiful little burritos of life through our vaginas. It’s acceptable to have a loving vagina and it’s healthy to be large, even very large. Honesty comes from knowing yourself as a Gertrude. Feathers come in all shapes and colors and thicknesses. Without feathers, birds cannot truly take flight. I will have a candlelight dinner because I desire to have a candlelight dinner. White men have no more of a right to me than Hispanic men or Black men. Highlighting my hair does not mean I am submissive or that I have chosen to reinvent my womanhood. Reinventing her womanhood is shenlightening. Do the lunar cycles cause Donald to not call me? Donald’s not calling me is not related to Richard divorcing me. I am highly understanding of my daughter’s needs and thoroughly responsive to her psychological challenges. My mother believed that a recipe not followed was a recipe for disaster, but mother wasn’t a very good cook. (Tee hee hee.) I am my own stellar guide on the journey between harmonic and luminescent. I can accept that I do not need to travel more if I understand the places in our world from reading and watching about them. We are only as mortal as our minds.