Perfect Permanent Balance
Does not exist
Do not wish it
Is simply the midpoint
Of our own pointy pendulum
While we find our swing
To the next extreme
A talent perfected
Only in death
ar
Well Deserved Respite After a Particularly Brutal Goring by Bill Carman
Part of his Unbalanced series.
I prefer a thrill
To emptiness
Even if it fills
Me only to be
Spilled again
Splattered
Everywhere
And wanting
— a.r.
Splatter Paint by M-I-Arias on deviantART
I have been drunk
I have been empty
I have been catatonic
I much prefer the guzzling
Or the complete checking out
To the walking dead of nothingness
I’d rather fight and fuck and make mistakes
I’d rather collapse into my own battened brainscape
Than I would choose again this hollowed out detachment
Neither drink of wine, of virtue, of poetry, of passion, of attachment
Can destroy beauty born of pain as much as the letting go can
Because when I did that, all will to live let go of me
It was not enlightenment I found but depression
A safe and cold cocoon away from contact
A flatlined plateau of perfect peace
No, that escape is not for me
You may keep it
If it helps, but I
Will save myself
–A.R.
The Turin Horse by KatarinaRss on deviantART
I am already
Wrapped
Tightly in shroud
Simply
Biding my time
With the air running out
— A.R.
Life Reading by Patty Carroll, part of her Anonymous Women: Draped series
I am not one dimension
Though many need me to be
Twists and turns and blind corners
Make a labyrinth in me
There is more than one note
Pinging off walls in my skull
Whispers, sonnets, and screams
Escaping freely when full
I make multiple movements
Inside this skin of mine
At once lady and whore
Rebellious and refined
Then there are moments
I am quiet and still
Teaching me of observance
Small control of my will
I’ll take it all while I’m making
You want to smile and to run
But wanting all of it with me
Is what makes you the one
— April Resnick
Husband and Wife, Love and Life by Frank McFadden
Happy Valentine’s Day
Artist
You transformed me
Turning my asymmetry
From camera flawed
To canvas beauty
Artist
You reached into me
Adjusting my own focus
From pinpoint imperfections
To a broader beauty view
Artist
You reoriented me
Filling out some flat ideal
From perfect picture unattained
To unique beauty breathing
Artist
You unfinished me
Leaving space about my face
For adding off-ness, oddity
To my idea of beauty real, profound
Artist
You included me
In a human portrait library
And made every one of us worthy
Of being painted beauty
— April Resnick
A portrait of me (unfinished)
Painted by Elena Drozdova.
Sitting for her was a profound
experience for me. I am looking
forward to finishing the painting.
My fingers and toes are pink again
My cheeks in constant blush
Dear Winter Sir we are not friends
My skin needs Summer’s blazing touch
— a.r.
Secret Blush by Maria Pace-Wynters
Power and heat are back.
I am hoping that others have their power restored soon.
This bitter winter is taking its toll, wishing warmth for all.
Lots of ice
Little power
Will post more
At a warmer hour
— a.r.
For everyone in the NE who are also without power.
Stay safe and warm.
I was raped when I was 8
Over and over
When I should have been safe
There is nothing poetic here
They always call us crazy
They always deny, say we lie
As recent as last year
I was called a stupid “victim”
By a Buddhist thinker
Who called the memory of my rape
And the flashbacks, my illusions
Symptoms that he called my fault
Nothing new, this sanity assault
I know you’d be more comfortable
If I locked it in my body vault
But I will not
My honesty does not mean
I still feel like a victim
It simply relays the truth of
What he did to me when I was,
And he did, and I was 8
And now I fight, and I heal, and it’s real
And I say clearly this is me
Because brutes and blind society
Cannot scare or quiet me
Ever again
— April Resnick
8 year old me
