The Medicine Apartment

Some Call it Love

Good morning, my beauties. I am here to offer a new poem for all of you, fresh & wet, just born. I appreciate you. I am glad you are here.

The poem is for everybody & for my paid bffs, there is a yummy new playlist at the bottom, so don’t (just) get lost in the trance of the poetry, save some trance for later lol. Also for paid subscribers, Thursday is gonna be the first Tarot pop up in a good long while. I will remind you. First come first serve. One card. One question. And I knowwwww you all got questions. Come & get it 😇

THE MEDICINE APARTMENT

God, I love a good bubble. 
A transparent dome of divinity itself.
A cave. A blizzard. A love affair.
A bunker. 

The world outside too precarious 
to tread without the armor of
inordinate preparation.

Once there was this apartment 
and, not once, but many times
there was an option to meet there. 
It belonged in the medicine realm. 
The subspace.
The subset of the parent space,
The parent space that would be reality.

I know this sounds pretentious
But aren’t we all human. 

There is the possibility we could meet 
in another dimension,
the walls clogged with understanding
dripping with ecstatic peace 
followed by the rush of utter panic.

I have always been attracted to white and blue spaces 
Like what I imagine an apartment in Mykonos might feel like. 
Odd because I am a primarily 
a pink and white girl.
My (current) bedroom is blue and white 
but that is by default, 
it was blue when I moved in and so perfectly painted, 
I didn’t want to disturb it.

The fact is, that once I moved into this house, 
one year ago
this tiny cottage below the Jesus tree,
I fell into an amnesiatic slumber
from which I have never awakened
having mutated in an epigenetic drift
to be the person standing in front of you.

So perhaps this could have been 
the medicine apartment all along.

Whoa let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

As a triple air sign, I am in love 
with the thought of a high-rise. 
So high you cannot open the windows.
Air outside so rarified that the desire to merge 
Is seen as suicide.

In the medicine apartment,
located within the genetic high-rise 
and outfitted in the aesthetic of Greece,
it is always twilight,

We find each other and we are so glad. 
The romance is in the resting. We whisper.
A single light on the end table
built into the corner of the muted 
white sectional sofa.
No paintings on the walls.

Once I tried to enter the apartment from the jungle in Peru
bathing in the waters beneath the gigantic banyan tree
eating only fish and dry grains and plantains forever.
I laid in the dark. 
The medicine said girlfriend why are you so far from home
You do not need to be here.

Did you know that in the jungle there are security guards
smoking cigarettes in the dark and breathing hard 
outside the thin veil of mosquito netting.

Protection always has a price.

I didn’t weep then.
I barely weep now.

Home was so far away.

We can take a break from being in human bodies 
and we can still be together.

My voice has become my favorite place to be.

Do I need to be famous? 
It is all I know.

The need to be seen as extraordinary.

Is it some kind of denial to want to sweep ourselves away.
I just want to take a nap with you. 
To whoosh away the coyotes
and sleep in peace.
As if that is even possible.
To whoosh away the coyotes.

One more thing (whispering) I have missed all of you but it is so good to have my private practice back! (still whispering) here is a little gift for all of you . . . almost a breathwork but not quite 😊 A layer of love to smooth out your days/nights (smiling with all my teeth) love you & REMEMBER . . . Single card tarot readings on Thursday, first come first serve . . I will poke you tomorrow in the chat xox