GEORGIA SPAIN NO ONE TELLS YOU HOW TO WEATHER A STORM

No one tells you how to weather a storm - Georgia Spain

It’s the new cobweb summer and we’re in a warmer place.
We said the long goodbye to somewhere 
and arrived in the big heat.
We feel new. We have momentum.

I’ve got big feelings so I squeeze out vermillion, quinacridone, cadmium, crimson, madder lake deep.
It feels right and it feels good.

A leg up, a helping hand; keeping one at arms length, bodies are more than blood counts and BMIs
they come together in a flurry
a commotion! a wild combination!
a wild kindness that comes pouring out when we sing the chorus of the whole heart.

Here we all are, colliding in the first hour of the world—
the inner workings of everything turned inside out, the outer workings turning in. I can hear the first speech, the first laugh, the last words, the final cough
the beginnings and endings that continue on and on and on.

Somebody somewhere watching something, unfolding like white napkins on the table laid out and arranged as visual poems.

We’ve got momentum again.

Forget about the lost futures, look up, see the clouds and be here now. Typhoon’s coming, volcano’s on its brink, a ripple on the lake. There’s fecundity in the new buds and magnolias in bloom
these are the precious things.

We’re circling round in deep time
all the memory banks eroding and soon everything old is new again

I’m erasing and concealing,
moving and gesturing,
colliding with every fat, lean and slippery surface.
It’s hot and it’s cold and it’s pulsing with life
sometimes swimming, sometimes waving an arm in the air, saying look at me!
look at me!

but it feels right and it feels good
just to keep pushing it around,
to exist in doubt; wait for the unknown;
push aside fear; wake up and stretch; draw back the curtains

c’mon, c’mon baby it’s a beautiful storm.