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Woman, mom, teacher, writer, unicorn-lover, tree-hugger, magic-seeker, fox spirit, crier, human. Writing about life: my years of drinking and my awakening.
Image by kinkate from Pixabay

Have we met before?
Before you rose
like a purple cherub
from my womb
Before you fluttered
your butterfly wings
in my stomach
Before the kiss
of your imagined existence
settled itself
inside the chalk of my bones
Before you waited
ephemeral and ancient
a pause
in the company of star stuff?

We’ve met before
I’m sure;
In a meadow
Under a mushroom
On a dust mote
Through a sunbeam
In the space between electrons
Under the crook of an arm of a galaxy
Behind the pupil of an eye
In the crater of a hawk moon.

Vixen Lea is…


Image by author

Hello. My name is Vixen Lea and I have been Razzle-Dazzle for 1000 days.

January 7, 2018 is the day that I made the decision to quit drinking.

It seems like such a small thing when you look at the words of it: I Decided to Quit Drinking. Like I just made a decision and then that was that and all was good in the world. But of course, it’s so much more nuanced than that.

I was SO AFRAID. It was like I was about to say Goodbye to my entire Being; like I was going to strip off all of my layers of self that I had spent the last 25 years…


a poem of spiraling (and hope)

Image by author | enhanced with PhotoGrid

A switch flips
and panic
wraps my brain
blind

a rope tightens
round the
neck
of my mind

and I spin
caught and cursed
like a beat dog chasing
his own behind

now
tumbling
through this insanity
I never promised you

stumbling
through this calamity
of twisted thoughts
I never wanted you

to
follow
me
through

sliding like sand
on sand
on sand
on mountains

of sand
and I am buried
from the neck up

guts flayed
mind screaming
Shut up

to its self
flagellation
Shut up

to its trip
hallucination
Shut up

why so fucked up
on repeat
on…


Image courtesy of author | Author retains all rights

A haiku


a Fibonacci poem

Image by author

She
kneels,
greets the
sunflower.
Its round petaled face
beckons, a remembered sister.
Secrets shared, they part; a pollen kiss on her forehead.

This poem was written in response the prompt by MDSHall to write a poem using the Fibonacci sequence to guide the syllables in each line. In this case I used 1/1/2/3/5/8/13. I am fascinated by this amazing sequence of numbers and how it shows up over and over in nature — including the pattern of seed spirals in sunflowers. Great prompt!

Vixen Lea is a mother to two small children and a number of animals, but first…


National Poetry Month, April 10 #NaPoWriMo

Image by author

my siblings
had polyester skin
plastic button eyes
red ribbon lips

obedient playmates
they lined up
and took orders
I the oldest
most independently mobile
was always in charge

when I left for college
they took over my room
maybe happy for the peace
or in awe at my eagerness
to leave them behind

when I returned home in my 20s
lost and adrift after divorce
they were still there
pressed against attic plastic
patiently waiting for me

This was written in response to The POM’s National Poetry Month writing challenge — Prompt #10, Write a Poem About Your Siblings…


a poem of protest

Image by author

Come, be wild with me
in my rebellious yard;

Come roll on confetti carpets
of chickweed and violets

And run your toes through unruly locks
of white clover and plantain.

Dance with the dandelions who polka-dot the green
like frothy fireworks and miniature suns.

This psychedelic lawn
is a painting of pointillism protest;

We’re rioting against Round-Up;
we’re organizing out here;

Opposing the pellets of poison
dropped on the dirt like nutrient-rich napalm.

Dreadlocks of ground ivy gather
by the neighbor’s gate in peaceful dissent,

While runners of stray suburban strawberry
muster across invisible battle lines

To challenge the stately…


National Poetry Month, April 3 #NaPoWriMo

Image by author

ain’t fair really. all them bugs n slugs was come by honestly, I mean
what did they THINK was gonna happen when they got in the way of
my new blue spade? they actually had it pretty good in there
what with all the pulled-up grass and dandelion heads.
oughta have been grateful really, I mean

maybe it did get a lil bit crazy when I put that hairy ole spider in with em, but I ain’t see no reason they couldn’ta just been happy hangin out in that brown box, I mean I don’t know why they thought to…


by a Half-Assed Scientist

Image by author

I love it when I ‘believe’ things or ‘know’ them to be true in my guts and then find out that science is busy proving the same thing. Choosing to live an alcohol-free life is definitely one of those things. Once I began to learn the science of the brain and addiction, it is next to impossible for me to act in opposition to it.

I consider myself a half-assed scientist. I have a Bachelors of Science (in the vaguely gen-ed sounding field of ‘Technical Systems Management’), I worked in the least engineer-y of the engineering domains (Environmental), and then…


a poem of inevitability

Image by author | Hell’s Creek Formation, Montana

We can stand in the meadow
with the wind
and survey our surroundings
feet splayed
between the swaying stalks;

We can claw up the crevasse
with the beasts
and squat on the slopes
caked in sun
and smelling like ourselves;

We can pant across the clay
with the piss-ants
and pluck thorns from our palms
bleeding rivers
over the hard-packed earth;

Yet we cannot escape
that hot and hungry
insignificance.

You and I and everyone we know just fleshy fools eking out existence atop a pile of bones older than our oldest memories; sorting through secrets of cousins too far…

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