Breaking/Shaking Open
Why do I feel like I am still in the middle of it?
Will I ever shake it off?
Will I ever stop shaking?
I am still baffled by the world – probably more than ever right now. This last decade has my nervous system reeling.
At first, to the political climate that had been building building building. The situation that got me writing American Sentence. When I looked up #21 – You, Jane – I had written two poems that day (April 11, 2017), and added a song called Nasty Man by Joan Baez.
These are the poems from the post:Let down my guard – split, shed my skin – Phoenix rise in my mind, no one sees.
Spring fever brain boil – thoughts drip moist (like) sweat from Tarzan’s breast – salt on skin.
The photo was taken at a gas station that sold beer and guns. I was on a mountain bike trip to Utah with my friend Christine. We were two women alone in the wild west wilderness.
This is from the border somewhere at Utah and Arizona.
‘Merica.
I called the image – Get Your Gas, Guns, and Beer Here. I was a little afraid to take this picture of myself in front of the flag, but I figured I could get away with the photo if I just kept my mouth shut and looked patriotic.
Have you ever been afraid to walk into a gas station?
I remembered the advice my junior high school principal gave me – “Your life will be so much easier if you be quiet and look pretty.”
Poker face.
Meanwhile, at the gas station, in 2017, I was grappling with what it means to be American. What it means to be a woman in a country where it’s ok to be grabbed by the pussy.
Have you ever been grabbed by the pussy?
By your neighbor?
By a stranger?
By someone in authority?
Poker face.
And the world is weird. And I am back in New York. And I am making music again. And I am making art. And I am helping my mother prepare to die.
And I keep looking toward Beauty.
I am also shaking.
March 3, 2023
Brooklyn, NY
holly troy ~ sacred folly 