vulnerability

poem: in space

Ours is a tango
A back and forth frisson
Of two magnetic energies
Who yearn for connection
But haven’t yet learned How to meet

Solitary creatures of habit
Tentatively touching antennae
We send out tendrils of exploration
Like snail stalks curiously brimming
Tasting the change in our atmospheres

We move in orbital paths
Circling slow, instinctively
Testing for friend or foe
A dance of stops and starts
I move closer … You pull away
You come near … This time I retreat
The pattern of our feet
Beating the manifesto rhythm
Of our scarred hearts

We keep the faith
But can we Keep it together
Or would that rock our courses
From their place
Among the stars?

You shine…
I am a mere reflection
But a moment in your grace
Can light the dark inside of me
For this space
Of borrowed time,
This pause
In my
Nocturnal
Arc.

blog: poetry is a discomfort zone

Poetry is a weird art medium. Especially for me these days. I’m plagued with questions…. should I aim for the controversial, political, slam-worthy, stuff of viral media? Can I just write simple ditties about love, and nature, and God, or does it all have to be clever and have deeper meaning? Do I have to keep churning pieces out, or is it okay to write one or two truly inspired poems a year? Should I take my old stuff and mine it for gems, or build a big bonfire in my backyard and burn it all? (I’m in favour of burning it, personally!)

And in my experience it’s not an art form that garners a lot of validation, to be honest. The people who like poetry – the poets, the music makers and the dreamers of the dreams – we get it. But the rest of the world doesn’t seem to know what to do with it. Write a song or a novel, and people applaud. Write a poem, and you get crickets.

I think it comes down to a matter of how we handle vulnerability and self-exposure. Take classic art forms for example – drawing, painting, sculpting, etc. The artist creates a piece of art derived from a real life object or concept using the materials of their choice. Some art can be political and provide a social commentary, and other art is just nice to look at. The thing about this type of art, is that its meaning or message is often subjective and dependent upon its beholder. The artist’s own intent can be overt or hidden in layers of messaging if they choose. And for people who just like art for arts’ sake, or the average punter who knows nothing about art, they can at least appreciate it at that surface level.

But poetry… poetry doesn’t hide. Ever. It can’t, because by its very nature poets are literally describing what is in their brain. They aren’t pulling any punches. They are telling you how they see the world, in no uncertain terms. Yes, there are metaphors and poems can ramp the romanticism and melodrama up to 11, but ultimately the author is telling you exactly how they feel about their subject… what they hate, what they love, what they fear, what they desire.

And so the non-initiated audience gets uncomfortable. They feel like they are peeking into something they shouldn’t, seeing behind the veil, reading someone’s diary. They may not understand how to engage with poetry; they may be unqualified to comment on the form and rhyming schemes and all the technical things that make that poem great, which leaves them only the content to parse… and since a lot of poetry is raw emotion on a plate, that makes them uncomfortable.

I’ve noticed this, when I post pictures of something I’ve made or a costume I’ve sewn, e.g. something visual, the engagement is substantial. Lots of likes and heart reacts, some comments and questions. But if I drop a new poem, I don’t get the same result. Don’t get me wrong – this isn’t me begging for likes. I’m too old to care about popularity contests anymore. I would still write, even if it was only for myself. But it’s interesting to see more visual forms of art receiving immediate validation, while a poem that would take just a minute or two to read gets awkwardly ignored.

Sometimes I just want to say – “Hey, it’s okay. I get it. I shared something super personal here in this poem. But I shared it because I wanted to.” Because that’s what it comes down to. You’re not peeking into my diary – I’m opening up the book for you. Nothing gets put out in the world without my consent. I have agency over my level of exposure and vulnerability. And if I write about hard things, or share my feelings, it’s because I CHOOSE to do that.

It’s okay if you’re not a ‘fan’ of poetry. It’s okay if you don’t like what I write, or the way I wrote it. It’s okay if you think I’m an absolute unpolished amateur hack. I’m not writing for your validation. But I am hoping for your appreciation.

Ultimately I’m just a kid running to their parents with a hastily scribbled crayon drawing, hoping it’ll get put on the fridge. I guess in a way this website is my fridge… I stick my poems here, and maybe one day someone will read through it all and actually get me, because ultimately all I really want is to feel seen.

blog: breakthrough and new beginnings

I don’t often experience “breakthroughs”. I’m more of a slow and steady, parse the information, ruminate on all the options kinda gal. But I guess ‘breakthrough’ is the closest word I can use to describe where my head is at right now.

Two weeks ago, I marched in the Sydney Mardi Gras Parade for the first time. It was actually my first time even attending the parade since 2000. I’ve always been queer and I’ve never felt the need to label my queerness. The crowds, the hullabaloo, the spectacle, the Pride-with-a-capital-P aspects of queerness weren’t really for me. But I’ve been intentionally exploring my place in the ‘alphabet soup’ of LGBTQ+IA for a few years now, and since I had no other commitments I decided this was the year I would do all things Mardi Gras.

It was important to me to join a float that spoke to my intersectionality, so I chose Aspect, an autism support group (whose theme this year was literally ‘Intersectionality’ by the way). Because my health has been somewhat in decline the last 5-6 years, and having never marched before, I was worried about the physical demands of the parade. Everyone I spoke to said something different, from the “Oh it’s really quick, like a light jog, I don’t think you’ll be able to do it, why don’t you hire a mobility scooter?” crowd, to the “It’s a quick walk but there’s lots of stops and starts and chances to catch your breath, you’ll be fine.”

And you know what? I was. In fact, I felt more than fine, I felt AMAZING. Seeing the crowds lined up to cheer the marchers on was so empowering, and I felt especially proud when I walked past the disability and accessible viewing space and saw two awesome individuals I’d met and shared a train into the city with. The walk was easy, I was dancing the whole time. Afterwards I went off to a metal gig and though I was dressed in 80’s gear (the sub-theme of Aspect’s float), nobody cared and they even complimented me on my outfit. Then I spent the rest of the night hanging out with some friends feeling completely relaxed, completely myself, and importantly, feeling good about who my whole self is. I even connected with someone unexpected, in a really open and honest way, no games or bullshit, which is always such a blessing.

It made me realise there’s a lot I’ve been missing out on in life, because I’ve thought it too hard or that I didn’t deserve it. It made me angry at myself and my entire perspective has shifted since that weekend, for the better. I immediately put myself on a sensible diet plan, and have already lost 2 kg. I’ve organised some fitness training, which I’m nervous about but will try my best to stick to. I haven’t even needed my cane at all during this whole time. I’ve finally got my house in order. There are some negative things in my life right now that I’m dealing with. But overall I’m feeling like the good outweighs the bad.

Best of all, I feel the creative juices flowing for the first time in years, and decided to revamp this blog site (that I hadn’t touched in ten years, d’oh). I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trawling through old livejournal accounts, google drives, multiple emails and FB pages and profiles to find the majority of the poetry I’ve written since 1998 (prior to that it’s in a notebook somewhere and I was an angsty child and no one needs to read that stuff, haha). I’m so close to re-launching this site, and questioning myself hard. What is my motivation here? How do I want people to engage with my art? What if this is all just angsty depressive love poetry word vomit and I’m not as good as I think I am?

It’s easy to run back. It’s easy to say, “You know what? At least I tried… ” and disappear again into my cave. It’s easy to tell myself that nobody wants to read my style of writing anymore, that my health problems are too much of an obstacle to experiencing human connection, that people will ultimately just betray and hurt and reject anyway so why bother. It would be easy to go back to my victim mindset and cry about my loneliness and feel sorry for myself. But… I don’t want to. I WANT to put myself out there again. I WANT to see if there’s still a place in the world for my art. I WANT to see if there’s someone out there who can love me.

They say ‘The heart wants what the heart wants‘ – and I can’t tell my heart to be quiet anymore.