Suffragette of Sight

This is for new friends, and serves as a key of sorts to my poetic ledgermain, or a glossary to my poetic language and misdirection.  Remember, if you want to know…what I think, feel, who I am…you can, but you do not get to just go to the McDonalds of relationship and place an order and expect fast food to be schlepped out to you.

Oh no.

It is far more like going to the Farmer’s market with a previously made dish in hand…and nibbling a bit and thinking about what you taste, and then tentatively beginning to gather vegetables and herbs that match what you taste…or even taste complementary.

Then you bring them home and make the dish.

Here is the fun stuff:  if you are paying attention, then you will begin to have that “AHA” flash of insight earlier and earlier…you will realize, for instance, in the poem This Shocking Interruption that I draw a parallel between Simon of Cyrene, a black man who was waylaid and forced to carry the cross of Christ on Good Friday the first and transgender people who are waylaid and forced to carry a gender cross and be crucified for the pride and passion of the Patriarchy…

…it will be evident immediately.

If you are not paying attention, or understanding the flow of the posts and the intentionality of Grace Notes from day to day and month to month, well, you will scratch your head a bit, and likely admire a few lines or stanzas that really stood out, and the smack your lips thinking yummerly and move on to the next tidbit for consumption.

Poetry is a bit more than that…it is more Jack and the Beanstalk than The Old Woman Who Swallowed a Fly.

I hope you enjoy the older works, and they are there for the perusing.

HINT:  if it takes forever to get to the back of the blog, please note there is a calendar at the foot of the blog that is hyperlinked to month and day…and a Poetry Link at the top in the Header…

Blessings to you, Constance, and nods over to you Reader…still there lurking, looking for things to judge with the eyes of Pilate and touching these posts with hands washed of the mess.

Charissa