The mind, a dormant stone

Ways You Can Support 💜 Dear Friends, As I navigate some meaningful transitions this season, I’m reaching out with gratitude and humility. If you feel called to support, here are a few ways your kindness could truly help me and my little family right now: Help us get to León (August 14–21) so the kids and I can spend our birthday week together with loved ones. Contribute to our August rent — a little breathing room would mean a lot. Share resources or curriculum for advanced elementary studies — I’m homeschooling! Help me enroll in an advanced Spanish class. Support with vehicle tag renewal costs. Haircuts for the kiddos. New clothing for the little ones — they grow so fast! Help organizing and decluttering at home. Let me know if your address can be a reliable business address for LAPS correspondence. Let me know if you have a safe space to store a few treasured keepsakes from the kids’ (and my) childhood. Help us host a community birthday c...

 sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of pain sick of  pain. just plain sick.

for juan   lion heart feels like lying hard on the cement with my face down spreading lips for a little air  that will make sense for my body to take in and excrutiate exert excrete feign in the realness of this breath. lion heart feels like fractions spread over the pavement little giblets of flesh disgraced in the excrement of broken sidewalks and playgrounds. there is no cherry on top. no icing to veil this torment; of still beating and beaten sentiments and memories beyond these years of tired time that rims around my eyes. the lion heart learns hard the acts of others first knows the aches of destroyed rings uncherished things that marked the days spent hoardishly with another; only to be without them, these unsettling screams share vowels into the sky, a plea into the ether of loathing dreams; this diminished self  with bloody knees. it won't make it past another round of tattered skin;  the bones frown when it's time to remember, recall injury of once love -- ...

     Since I was a little girl, I was in love with wind, the land, and the proximity of the moon. Her glowing face shed just enough grace to soothe my tears in its quiet light.  I felt the depth of her passion, her longing, her loneliness, her strength. I sought the eyes of her face; along with their color, and holding smile. She traced me along the footprint I patted down; little girl beating brown; a tiny hand of mud. 

 sometimes i forget i am an individual myself a person of thought mind... this dormant stone that i once recognized as a levvy to my voice. well, i found myself back here; and it's always joyful when i am. thinking of the Chief --- Michael Rothenberg -- may you forever rest in power.  time is so fleeting... i can't believe he is not breathing anymore.  it really makes your heart hit the floor. i am saddened for Terri -- the missus -- the visionary. Ometeotl i think of all this time and all these weeks that smooth into the other... just an hum on the old loin cloth life covering the bounty of the more knowing. what of an unblessed discovery? is it equal to a random squished realization that is discovery, swiftly in 10 seconds? a quick blessing, like a sneeze. it flies, you blink, goodbye. (that was the exact moment). jessica m wilson now july 9 339am

where my heart is. being stretched across the dim floor. economic hustle tender unfeeling this is the last breath. negative certainty of utter deliverance to pity. i know, i feel pity in this relic't time. a factor of none, to one, always one and then another to face in the mirror. just look the other way. see the leaves drifting into sun and shade. always. there is no more time to spend; feeling like there is nothing left to catch  on your  tongue.  ~ Jessica M. Wilson ahora noche dia 1248 am PST Thursday 2024 twenty twenty four  

 I am so honored to announce my partnership wtih Avenue 50 Studios, a premiere art gallery in Highland Park, in a historic part of NELA.  Starting April 25, I will be teaching my Ekphrastic Poetry Master Classes! We meet 6:30-8pm, in person at Avenue 50, examining and embodying modern artworks in curent residence at Avenue 50! Not only that, learn more from Art History as we delve into Masterpieces that lend themself to the technicques or inspiraions behind the art. Classes are $20 each.  Minimum of 3 classes will earn you publication by LA Poet Society Press. Meet and Greet contemorary Artitsts!  Learn Art History, write and embody visual art, to bring a new perspective and experience to the artwork! Register by visiting: https://www.lapoetsociety.org/product-page/registration-for-jessica-m-wilson-ephrastic-poetry-master-class

Happy Earth Month!  Right now, we see the blossoms opening, the vines ripening -- the sweet smell of Spring is here! Congratulations to everyone for making it out of the darkness, in this frigid air... the dew of the damp Earth has sprouted many blessings.  Rake up the gentle soil and bring her into your circle. Let the abundance flow into your circle; enjoy the fragrance of your harvest. I wanted to offer up this powerful song; Madre Tierra , by Maya Jupiter. Her message is steady and daring to be spoken into the ears of all who dwell on and know Mother Earth.  Speak righteously, and take care. ~ Jessica ~

Elegy for Lawrence Ferlinghetti looks like wings flying off birds Dust digging as far as it can inside itself             a piece             a piece             a piece. So anyway,             I’m pretty sad you are gone. Pictures gone mad with hope in a gone world That’s how I’m feeling right now.   Do you know you are loved?                                                                        ...

 To the lipstick that made my Mom happy,  I smelt you today, because the sudden rise of your aroma, a suddenly ripe expiration to a wax well used, sticky, rich, and captivating. A heavy tread across the highlights of your lips. Creases of embarrassed smiles, a guilt of not belonging, or a lessening, or insecurity. Yeah, that's about ripe. But your thickness glamourized my Mom  with your crimson promise, of keeping her young, beautiful, a ritual of engagement with the mirror,   A promise she knew. Always hid. JmWC 11 18 20  1053

  "When everyone was quarantined, I felt like..."           I was caged,  my cord cut,            the outside was in,       and I  wasn’t ready for that. I felt like I was out of time                 – no way to re-plan my life,  no way to be by anyone’s side. I like mapping the scene,     feel heat amongst a crowd,  and now, to stay away from them,  I have to hide. Close myself off  my nature,  to enjoy parties  dancing, all the things               feel more alive…  When that door shut, a hurricane hit. JMWC 9/22/20 from class, Panorama High School, 2020

Midnight satisfaction mystical fashion a decade of decadencia thrusts between the shouts. Do it a little longer; and keep me in that place you send me when i go midnight on  your excursion.  An exorcism to say the least. JMWC 1105pm, Sunday 9/6/2020

It's birthday season again!  Yay...  (sarcasm) Gosh, it has been a while since Covid19 made its debut... I think I was thinking it would be gone by now. Yes, the foolish fantasy that we could continue with our lives after 2 weeks of lockdown, but here is August. It's nearly my birthday and I have been wrapping my head around just what I can do to celebrate. Sure, you can say, go low key. Or, "why not be low key, Jessica. Why's it gotta be a big party?". Well, to counter that I'd say, "F&*k off, it's my birthday bish!" But really , I would probably say: 1. I just came out of 3 years of being "Mama", as in new momma, as in "where the hell did Jessica go", as in "when the hell is Jessica coming back?" as in "what do the kids need now?" I haven't been out in a long time. Definitely not the way I used to go out.  2. It's a milestone birthday! Let me rock my milestone and set it off! That's what I...

Thinking about being 30...clubbing, dancing, moving around town. Sharing drinks and just staying up with the night. ahhh just been a long time since this feeling dominated me. miss it. 

missing your pressence around my body; the dark and the everlasting light. 11pm walks through the city chasing the curves of sunset clouds and moonbeam peaking,  like your ruffled blouse. the ends of your alleys make me sore, feet caressing every needle, every marble stone, and all those faces meshing eyes, pattern my trotting absurdities. a smoke in the cleansing rain until i am washed into rescue, uncertain how the words will penetrate; travel the sound of swishing lips and damp tongues pulling and curling on time. always on time.  a tempo worth beating into your stalks; your finessed legs pressing, shoving me along deeper, to feel all of you, undressed in the mirror chanting, posing, holding in rapture.  bring me up once again, so i may never forget the taunting hum snapping back like rubber on your pleasant derriere.  jessica m wilson cardenas

E njoying A nother S tay at home, T rying to have an E aster holiday that feels R ather comfortable, traditional, S o like "home". I tell you, it's U nlike any other, I've ever felt. N othing like the uncomfortable silence of families, or D illy-dallying to the next relative's house, A nd not having to worry about new names or small talk. Y ep, that's different. Isn't it? happy easter! Jessica Wilson Happy Poetry Month #acrosticpoem #easterpoem covid19 can't kill poetry #napowrimo day 11

stretch by me little one suck in the urge to cry; swallow it with the confidence that you will not choke.  repeat repeat repeat. ______________________________________________________________________ i remember a time not long past a group of us on Figueroa just being wild careless free people it was liberating to feel the cloak of youth the retro spin of nothing can touch me I'll be alright.  remember? remember how it hugged you? clench your eyes. that beast is locked up inside you somewhere. don't you let go you'll need her from time to time when you wanna fight back & when you wanna survive. Jessica M. Wilson April 6, 2020 a poem a day #6 Day 6 #covid19cantkillpoetry #lifetimetalk #lapoet #napowrimo #reflection #lapoem #lapoetry #highlandpark #friendships #youthful #recollection #growthpoem #writepoetry #poetrychallenge #nationalpoetrymonth #aprilispoetrymonth

When I saw you today, I felt petrified. The first time seeing you again, like I saw you when I entered the earth. A tunnel of promises, family that tries to save you repeatedly; the way love is shown. This is what it felt like to stand 6 feet away from you after not seeing you for two months. Jessica M. Wilson April 4, 2020 Day 4 - #napowrimo #nationalpoetrymonth #familypoem #thesetimes covid19 can't kill poetry!

For the new babies: I am prayin' that the sky we know to be blue will stay that way for you. & I want you to know about the grass and all its friends, the weeds, the in-between, even the case for roaches; (that's right--and because it's righteous and rosy) to respect all things that breathe. Dearest little ones, keep yourself tucked tightly inside and blossom safely when it's time. You're the tulips perched steadily atop its stem. You will know how to bend with the current so to never break. You will adjust with the pressure so to conserve your strength and whip back with might and with truth beaming from your eyelids. You will be the ones to lead us away from hate for all that we are, and give us light for a new age. Jessica M. Wilson April 2, 2020 napowrimo National Poetry Month Covid-19 can't kill poetry

Today's poem is a yell For those who hear only their own echo For those who want to lift their heads and see a chance For those who share their last loaf of bread For those who are forced to keep working When the world around them has paused When the world around them is a hungry mouth turned ingrate For those trying to keep their presence in a city absent of eyes For those who hold their own and dearest into their bodies so the changes aren't as cold Or intolerant Or misunderstood Or set up As they once believed. This is a scream for you. Jessica M. Wilson Napowrimo 2020 Covid19 can't kill poetry April 1, 2020