Cuarenta y Ocho Horas

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My three year old is sleeping under the Puerto Escondido sky and yes I’m a little bit celosa. I miss her silly maniac ways and have found myself repeating all of her catch phrases over the last two days without her. Like “stupid asses”.

Yes, she is my child.

The break hasn’t happened yet, nor has the breakthrough. There is still an older child to mami and even though she spends most of her days not wanting to interact with me, she needs me. I still have to work to pay rent and electric and gas and eat. There are big blog issues over at the other site that I need to fix. And the poems.

Creo que hay tres, una de la primavera, una para Haiti, y otra donde soy la puta de mi papa. They are dancing in the back of my mouth. Waiting as patiently as they can for my hand the guide the pen so they can be born just a little before being unleashed into the wild/mundo.

Pero casa mala isn’t ready yet. I am not quite ready. The conditions aren’t right. I was thinking this morning as I struggled to find a poem I wanted to read at an event next week, how I need to organize my space better. It was like when I gave birth. I wanted quiet and darkness. Tomorrow, la Mapu will be at school and la casa will be mine. I will set aside a space, an altar to the work that will be done.

PS : I had a whole other angry post that I was going to write this morning about other issues but I’ve let it drop for now. Suffice it to say, I stay am struggling with some things and my level of comfort. Pero that’s ok.

PPS: No I haven’t gone on a date yet. With la mapu with me it just hasn’t happened even though there have been offers. You all will be the first to know porque I kiss and tell (most of the time).

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