In dialogue with ongoing research on MDMA for treatment-resistant PTSD, social anxiety in autistic adults, and anxiety relating to life-threatening illnesses.
The body turns like seasons—
winter first, because
winter has its reasons.
Gouache on A3 paper.
1.
Brittle branches cracking
spread their dark crumbs like a sickness.
All the spreading blackening
comes inside, taking over with its thickness.
Unbidden pulsing, bodies disinterred,
skeletons laid to waste and refrozen in winter.
Gouache on 36 x 48 cm paper.
2.
Every year it comes to this,
the cycle of dying and reawakening bliss.
Pinkness bursts inside and out,
cherry trees and laughing out loud.
All the poison turns to flowers,
all the dead give back their powers.
Gouache on A3 paper.
And I know what bees are worth,
their sweetness and their buzzing mirth.
Flowers and grasses rise up to itch
and scratch my itch.
Sweetness explodes me.
Nothing can hurt.
Or, at least I’m free
to feel the blow and still assert—
spring is here.
Summer near.
Winters past
need not a tear.
Gouache and mixed media on 28 x 35.6 cm paper.
3.
Let living soothe the dying.
Ecstasy heals without
(so very much failing and) trying.
Gouache on 36 x 48 cm paper.
