Continuing from the serenity of yesterday – to chaos today. At least in my thoughts (where poetry lives).
Every time I create I drag boxes and piles out of secret hiding places. I create little towers of items that wiggle dangerously without support and fall down when I leave them. When I move, materials scatter behind me. Scissors rattle, balls of yarn roll away, and thread is always tangled in my shoelaces.
At home I live in the knitted-by-me pink socks and a inherited, brown hoodie, carrying my Moleskine and my favorite pen with me from room to room. I sleep on a bed of paper scraps, because yes, my tiny bed is one of my art tables. I have acrylic paint on my pillow and in the morning I find my glasses in a pile of craft books.
Another one of my common “work places” is a moving train, when I commute. I sit there at night as I travel through space – towards my home and those pink socks. I recently brought out my glue stick and scissors for the first time in public. I got looks of curiosity and wonder, but I felt proud as I used my sharp little scissors to cut out printed whales and words. My backpack is my storage, my notebook is my refuge and friend.
The seat I sit on, is my whole world.
I have to carry around my glue stick right now, I miss it too much if I don’t. When I sit down, anywhere, I need the latest three transparent folders of clippings close. They are filled with magazine clippings and gathered envelopes and ticket stubs and painted papers… And they bring me comfort and joy.
I bring my knitting with me on the buss too, even when I don’t want to knit, just in case. I see collagable papers everywhere and I wish I could find peace in contradictions. I have a messy thrilling life. I am a succulent woman.
I loose my head in creative joy.
I am a woman that when you meet me, will remind you of an onion. Peal a layer of paint off me and you’ll find layers of ideas and fresh juicy inspiration and under that another layer of perspiration! I have skin so thin that you can cut it away with a few fell chosen words. My heart beats out pink blood through my blood vessels and I imagine it will one day mix with soil in a beautiful painting in my favorite colors…
I think of simplifying my life but I fail in heartbeat. I messily squirrel away, because I need to.