Clean and Elegant

Clean and Elegant

Friday, 7 July 2017

What does it mean to be home

What does it mean to be to be home


Three things I've never excelled at are
Lighting matches,
Cooking and
Opening locks with keys,
Even the right ones.


Dear Vincent,
I am moving.
I wish you'd been around 
to affirm this decision.
Love, Erica.


One thing I've never excelled at is
Closing the cupboard doors
After I use them.


Rain is merciless.
The squirrels must be sleeping
Or else hiding.


These days I'm choosing to be
More hungry than
I need to be.
Hungrier
And more worried
But just as honest.


One thing I do not excel at is
Not telling you
I wish I had
5.25 boyfriends,
Seven fathers
and that my eleventh therapist's name was Vincent
and
I kind of adored him.


Dear Vincent,
These days I'm trying to teach myself
to fall asleep on the floor.
That way you never need anything
Or anyone.
They say that after a while
the floor will start to get mouldy
but
as long as
you keep leaving
it'll be fine.
Love, Erica.


Rain is merciless.
I am not excelling at
My usual routines.
So many things
once occurred before breakfast.
This is how
I'm like the squirrels
if not like
Margaret Atwood.


What does it mean to be home.


Dear Vincent,
I am moving.
I wish you'd been around
to affirm this decision.
I have no idea if the squirrels feel at home.
My sense is they
are hungrier
than I am
but less worried.
Rain is merciless.
I do not use umbrellas but
it looks like the kind of day when
you might need one.
Love, Erica.


The End.
Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go

Bodhisattva Business Ventures:

Deep Cleans by Erica J. Schmidt (@deepcleanswitherica)
Montreal Hippie Threads (@mtlhippiethreads)
Instagram: montrealhippiethreads



What does it mean to be well
We have no idea if the squirrels are happy. Or/if anyone is.
Hour of God on a Friday



Wednesday, 5 July 2017

What does it mean to be a zen master.

What does it mean to be
a zen master.
They must possess
Spectacular
Self-soothing skills.
So poised, they say
“There, there,”
To their two
And seven

And twelve-year old selves,
Before gracefully patting their own heads.
 

If I have
an inner child,

It needs more convincing.
 
Under my Buddha
I used to store
Lists,
Oppressing the Future
with high
Expectations.
 
“How to heal your life,
by Erica J. Schmidt”
And/or

“Dreams for love.”
 
(My meditation partner
Met all

The criteria.
Except for his crocs
And
he’s forty-nine

And
He wants kids.)
 
This morning I took a match
To these lists
And they burned in the corner of the garden
Next to some animal’s shit.
The shit seemed too large
To belong
to a cat.
It was vaguely shaped
Like ovaries and
Fallopian tubes
And a uterus in
The way
these three things
go together.
In fact the shit also
Resembled
A penis
And
Two balls
In the way
these three things
go together.

I did not take a picture
of the shit
or of the ashes of
my lists.
The soothing effect
was less
than spectacular.

And the last thing I want to say
is,
 
May all beings be
As happy and free
As they
appear
On the internet.
The End.



May you be happy and free.
Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go

Bodhisattva Business Ventures:

Deep Cleans by Erica J. Schmidt (@deepcleanswitherica)
Montreal Hippie Threads (@mtlhippiethreads)
Instagram: montrealhippiethreads



Hi, my name is Erica. I'm having thoughts of death.
We have no idea if the squirrels are happy. Or/if anyone is.
Hour of God on a Friday