audrey dimola[art for the wild]

Posts Tagged ‘promises

i will not die like this, the girl said.
and so, she didn’t.

the black wolf’s voice hung in the air, the char emanating from his fur melting the snow in a tiny pure circle around him.

she said she would not die and so she didn’t.

the girl was silent.
ragged from crying.
someone pressed their breath into a ram’s horn miles in the distance.

this is a choice i don’t have anymore.
she remembered his words.

how long had she been walking in multiple worlds?

two years had gone by, trying to bleed out the wound or tie it off, sometimes simultaneously.

she felt entirely mad, most days.
the other days, she wasn’t sure.

her stomach felt hollow, sick.
the all-familiar headache that comes with unrestrained tears.

the ghosts were carrying her weeping through the woods, wisping around trees.

she wished they would just bury it.

the horn sounded again- a pure tone against the crying.

all untruth is rooted, child.
just as the truth is.

a house made entirely of fogged mirrors appeared to the right.

the black wolf motioned.

following the root always goes..
somewhere. sometimes. here.

* * *

i walked the perimeter of the house. where was the warmth, what was the memory?

you haven’t wanted to look.
he paused.
find the way inside.

my anger nearly doubled me over.
collapsing, i grasped a stone and hurled it towards the structure.

suddenly i was a little girl.
or at least that’s who i saw in the bathroom mirror. sitting perched on the sink, a faraway moment, blue walls between the color of sky and sea.

i never really look at you, do i? i said, running my palm down my face. i never do. i never tell you anything- ever.

just look right past you.

i was supposed to protect you.
a voice i couldn’t tell came from inside or outside.

i watched the girl in the reflection’s mouth move and i was holding the stone again, this time on the inside.

i raised my finger and wrote in the humidity, words i couldn’t place, prayers i had never learned.

the little girl was beside me. i took her hand.

why are you so afraid of this place? i asked her, the letters slowly dripping in the heat.

because no one has told me i shouldn’t be.

my heart clenched.

no one has ever told me i would be okay.

i just have to keep moving, we said in unison- the words slipped to the ground and collected at our feet.

i didn’t want to cry anymore that night. i couldn’t tell whose voice, mine or hers.

we stood, looking at each other, infinite reflections in unfogged glass.

i lit a candle.

it pierced the endless like a burning star, streaking.

i placed her hands beneath mine on the wax.

you are okay. i am okay.
we are safe.
we are safe.
we are safe.

the horn blew again and i was outside mid-hurl with the rock. startled, i stopped, dropping it into the snow.

the house had dissolved and there were letters all over the ground. the little girl was picking them up.

i rushed to her.

we will make a new home, i said, kneeling. and the black wolf smiled softly in the shadows, stark against the landscape.

don’t be scared, i whispered, my hand on her head.

we will put these words up somewhere else.
we will make them say beautiful things.

the little girl nodded, a slight glow returned to her face. i turned and looked for the black wolf, seeing nothing.

the ghosts were burying the cries, returning them to earth.

i took her hand.

i will not die like this, i said into the air. laughter of young ones and animals curled in the distance.

and so she didn’t. the little girl squeezed my hand. we began to walk.

[see the previous parts of this story]

* * *

happy winter solstice.
happy return of the light.

in this night of seemingly endless darkness, i offer this.

15123081_10101489334463854_8676657808731862421_o

a beginning, a discovery.

see you, here.

XO

a.

i didn’t know when another piece of this story would come, but it did.

* * *

i thought i was never going to see you again.

the city loomed in the distance.
we were returning.
everything was amber. wildlight.

i thought you were in love, and you were gone.

here, whole cities are made from regrets, the black wolf said.

everything still smelled like ash.
my head burned. i was lost again.

i picked up four stones from the riverbed and arranged them in compass formation. i placed my hand over each, reciting the last prayer i could remember.

whenever you are most scared, go north.
when the darkness seems it will never end, go north.
when you are no longer afraid to die, go north.
when they tell you not to go. go north.

i lit sage in the center and inhaled until my eyes reddened.

i came upon a camp of young ones. my own child self was there, running and stomping around. laughing and barking orders. making all the plans.

plans, i thought. plans.
when was the last time you had one? the black wolf asked, eyes on the children flickering ’round their fire.

i thought i was never going to see you again.

maybe. him?

the warrior with the chipped shoulder, with the heart made of feathers. being already partly of that species, he didn’t have to turn into a bird- he just chose to burn.

some nights all i saw was his eyes. never heartbroken. just- gazing at me. infinite. in love.

i looked down at my hands. there was still a rusty colored mark around my ringfinger.

the children roared with laughter, howling and poking their sticks into the fire, scattering embers along the forest floor. tiny brushfires lit and unlit- the children weren’t afraid. i knew they would never know what it was like- the city made of regret. i wanted to smile at such roughness, purity- but i couldn’t bring myself to.

it’s happening again, i said, staring. i don’t want to keep walking, i just want to stay here. the roots, hearing this, tangled around my feet. i am better off hidden. i am better off dead.

i thought i was never going to see you again.

from the flickering lights and laughter he emerged. wings tucked behind his back, his face, gentle. he pulled me into the spine of his legend, my hands a dog-eared page. our lips parting- all warmth, all agonizing electric. his hands ran over me, filled to the fingerprints with everything. everything i had loved, let go, refused.

we were back against the ocean again after the snow, mana sending sparks into the ether, the most beautiful firelights i had ever seen.

a thousand timepieces smashed in my head and i shook. we made love for hours, explosion after explosion, one sun climbing higher than the next and bursting- harder. brighter.

i could feel the buildings cracking through the ground around us- i wondered where the throne room was and if he knew i was the king of this awful place, locked in the back of a speeding car, kissing furious through twisted neon streets. every glinting road sign cracked and fell to the pavement as we passed.

we were so close.

i want to spend the rest of my life with you, i heard myself say.

a tree lit up in front of me and my eyes snapped open.

i expected to see the black wolf and the children rushing but i only saw the warrior. standing next to the boughs on fire, the bark pulsing with words.

he outstretched his palms to me, burning red, his wings slowly unfurling as he took me in his arms. the ghosts charged through the forest, to the edges of the city, wailing.

a cast-iron crown rolled to the singed land, the dust at my feet.

i couldn’t remember the rest.

* * *

that night i dreamed of the white wolf, cloudy and hovering on a cliff-top. i called to him but he did not move. my mother was with him. my father, my siblings, my grandmother, and my child self.

i clung to the arms around me- some flesh and blood, some gnarled, some winged, some ghost. their arms, their fingers, their hands were all i could focus on.

with my eyes on the white wolf, i drowned.

* * *

i awoke curled against the smoking fire with the young ones all around me. my body throbbed. i could still taste the warrior, the visceral urge to hide inside his feathered chest. never come out alive.

i thrust my face into the smoke and breathed.

one of the little girls, moppy golden hair and crystal blue eyes, brought me a stack of bones.

this is what remained after the warrior left.
the black wolf sang you back.

i stared at her, wide eyed, accepting the bones into my palms- feeling their roughness, the archaic encryption, the fire, the salt.

the black wolf slept curled on a stone chair a few paces from the children and me. i blinked. one half of my brain walked through the city wearing the roughshod crown, forehead bloody. the other half wandered the burning woods, my own voice screaming against the promises.

how do i know if this is real? i asked the girl, eyes welling with anger and confusion.

i thought i was never going to see you again.

the warrior’s wet breath on my neck, my chest.
his hands.

where is the safe place! i cried, slamming the bones to the ground. sparks shot up and the black wolf’s eyes opened- stoic, not startled.

why aren’t you saying anything? why aren’t you letting me leave?
my finger trembled as it pointed in his direction- the tip flickering, gathering ash.

it’s because of you i’m stuck here- my own dreams touching me in the night, traveling from realm to realm, life to life. i can’t say goodbye, i can’t do anything! soon it will all be cities of regret or burning forests- i can’t keep a promise, i can’t stop regretting, WHAT ELSE do you want me to realize?

the black wolf came down from the stones, standing over the bones. he ground them up into a paste and smeared it on my forehead and tongue. he did the same to the little girl. i did not recognize until that moment, it was me.

in my mind’s eye, i watched myself take the words from the flaming trunks. standing in the city, blood dripping down my face, i repeated them.

i thought i was never going to see you again.
this time, it was my own voice speaking to the little girl.
i ran my hand down her face, crying openly.

i don’t want to do this anymore. it hurts too much.

i curled up on the floor in the tightest ball i could and the children buried me with the dead bird they had found in the underbrush.

i inhaled the dark earth, becoming a tree that broke out on the other side of the mountain.
i emerged from the leaves, calm and crying, a candle lit inside my chest.

when i climbed from the boughs, the black wolf was there to receive me.

you have done well, my child.
now it is time to rest.

* * *

see you, here.

XO

a.

you are a warrior

last day of 2014.. this year has given me so much. the first year i really, truly began to LIVE FREE. through loss, through change, through pushing further, through smashing up against walls, crashing through mirrors, feeling the RUSH, the elation of knowing the universe is racing hard alongside you, spurring you onward – yes, yes, YES.

work

i spent last night planning and plotting with my best friend in the whole world. i feel again that everything has a purpose. that the compass in your heart is the only thing worth following. that everything else is noise.

i have found the wildness once more.

this year i performed on stages big and small, released TRAVERSALS to the world, experimented, collaborated, cried, forgot how to cry, burned, moved, ran, shook, curled in the shadows, and burst into the light once again. i’ve been on TV and on the internet, in books and in the trees..

audrey inspired word

tree

but i have learned that what truly matters – is walking the walk. practicing what you preach. remaining a student. learning everyday. staying humble but staying WILD. staying GRATEFUL. pushing harder. patting yourself on the back. trusting your instincts. because you KNOW. you always.. know.

what matters is warmth. transparency. and connection. the REALNESS of the experience that we are all here to dance and struggle and sing to.

there is no going back once you embrace potentiality. the possibility of every moment. the realization that it doesn’t matter anymore what THEY think, what ANYONE thinks, what it looks like from the OUTSIDE. keeping up appearances..

what matters.. is YOU. raw, real YOU.

this is all i am – and all that i can be. rediscovering the WILD WOMAN we somehow lose along the way..

“It is these fleeting tastes which come both through beauty as well as loss, that cause us to become so bereft, so agitated, so longing that we eventually must pursue the wildish nature. Then we leap into the forest or into the desert or into the snow and run hard, our eyes scanning the ground, our hearing sharply tuned, searching under, searching over, searching for a clue, a remnant, a sign that she still lives, that we have not lost our chance. And when we pick up her trail, it is typical of women to ride hard to catch up, to clear off the desk, clear off the relationship, clear out one’s mind, turn to a new page, insist on a break, break the rules, stop the world, for we are not going on without her any longer.”
-Women Who Run With The Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, PhD

i will keep living. and talking myself into living.. i will keep feeling. i will keep remembering. even when it hurts.. i will separate nostalgia from pain. try hard. make it come alive again. make it all pure. turn it into fuel. because i am a magician.. alchemist. blood and sweat and fire turned to happy tears.

i have always been too loud, too wild, too restless in my thoughts and emotions.

this shining set of wings, they hurt when they broke through but now –

after the unendurable. after the grief..

they belong.

BEST WISHES from my heart to yours for two-thousand-fifteen.

thank you INFINITELY for your love, support & inspiration..

XO

a.

CATCH ME

* In the Winter 2015 issue of Queens Library’s “Enrich Your Life”

audrey dimola queens library

* In Kingston University’s Words, Pauses, Noises

* On NY1 TV talking about TRAVERSALS & Queens lit – watch here!

* In a Local Express feature interview in the Queens Gazette newspaper

* And in a Gillette Venus internet campaign for 2015 – YES! #UseYourAnd!

UPCOMING EVENTS

* Hosting Boundless Tales Reading Series 1/8/15, 7pm [Facebook]

* Featured Reader at Queens Library Main Branch (Jamaica) 1/11/15, 2-4pm [Website]

* Featured Performer at Mike Geffner’s The Inspired Word 5-Year Anniversary Extravaganza 1/17/15, 7pm [Website]

* Hosting & Curating my Nature of the Muse fireside reading & live writing show! 1/29/15, 7:30pm – featuring Marc Montfleury, Roya Marsh, Valerie G. Keane, Kevin Marquez, and special musical guests Jeanne Marie Boes and Geoff Ong. [Facebook]

TRAVERSALS!

My second book was released in November 2014. Get it directly from ME via PayPal or on the shelves of the Astoria Bookshop!

traversals astoria bookshop

So grateful for the amazing feedback.. The journey is everything.

gianna traversals

“I’ve never heard you speak but I heard cracks and cries of voice not unfamiliar, the words came right off the page. And I sat in a dark cafe but the space was illuminated because the pages went by, flames in my hands. You have a powerful rhythm and song to your writing…”
g. ligammari, artist

“Enjoyed every poem, some of them made me laugh and others made me teary-eyed. This Queens radiant poet is as honest and open as any human can be…” wendy angulo, CEO/founder of wendy angulo productions, & curator of canvas of words

“Audrey = magic. Every day. Get the book – it’s a stunner.” –anne born, author of a marshmallow on the bus

traversals praise

Get more info about TRAVERSALS, excerpts, and additional reviews!

my girl, my girl, don’t lie to me. tell me where did you sleep last night? in the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine. i would shiver the whole night through.

sometimes i think – i need to disappear into the woods.

hollow out a space for my bones, curled up into a tangle of fur and paws and tears.

even the beasts cry, sometimes.

especially when they don’t want to.

i am not foolish enough to believe that anyone can be what you need them to be.

i remember his mother telling me that, a few heartbreaks ago, from the driver’s seat of her car on the island.

she said it in passing but it predicted the end – of that. of – so many things.

this sad zodiac.. my stars shattered into a bowl, mortar and pestle, feed me my wishes again so i can stay.. alive.

it all comes out in the grinding.

in the working of the words, of the bones, of the promises.

where is the line from acceptance to acceptance? what makes it surrender? what makes it holding your breath?

i am not a guru sitting in the woods, eyes closed, hands folded. sweet smile.

i am the beast in the burrow.

i don’t believe you.

acceptance is not surrender in the usual sense. funny, these guises of words.

all guises. all words held on posts against faces. we promise. and promise. and close our eyes again.

but it’s not important enough, is it? is it.

you have lived this long enough and i am not understanding.

i think i know enough to say – i don’t want to..

maybe i should keep it. myself.

let you remember how the lone howl fits in your throat.

leave you with the cup. the lighter and matchsticks.

i don’t believe you.

..

even the beasts cry, sometimes.

waiting for another dream.

XO

a.


Into the wild wonderland…

Celebrated as "a wildfire in a world of fluorescent bulbs" and a "poetic force of nature," Queens, NYC native Audrey Dimola is a poet, performer, curator, connector, and lifelong artist, as well as Director of Public Programs at Long Island City's Socrates Sculpture Park. // Thanks so much for stopping by! You'll find all my work on this website, past and present, as well as new blog posts. Poetry, prose, videos, events, photos, articles - it's all here. // As always.. STAY WILD, STAY GRATEFUL!

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ABOUT
Pleased to meet you..!

POETRY & PERFORMANCE
Poetry & prose, live performance videos

PROJECTS
Compass Project, Nature of the Muse, THE WILD PAPERS, #poetsinthewildnyc & more

EVENTS
Full list of upcoming & past events

ARTICLES & MEDIA
Features, reviews, interviews, essays in print & online; blog posts; video interviews

CURATING
Original events I've curated like Nature of the Muse & the Queens Literary Town Hall

PRESS
Coverage of my work - print, blogs, TV!

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MY BOOKS
My collections of poetry & prose

My Books

I have two poetry & prose collections for sale, proudly self-published. Like what you read? Support an indie!

Decisions We Make While We Dream (2012)

TRAVERSALS (2014)

Compass Project Poetry Stickers

As of February 2012, I've been sticking my Compass Project poetry and prose stickers up around NYC & sending them around the world! Have you seen some? Want some? Find out more!