Shae is just one letter away from Shame, heartlock hairpins, all the shavings, my life the pencil.
I speak my name into circles, its letters link like cuffs, like diamonds in the rough, sometimes on, sometimes off.
The tunic of my name fits just right. The Goldilocks Zone is a ring of planets whose conditions closely approximate what is necessary for the survival of earthlings. Scientists are watching, calculating, and this earthlink, the letters of my name, are like the periodic table of my elements: S, H, A, E.
A always speaks of achievement and my Aries uprising, making the grade, growing allegiance, strive strive strive for carrots and mercury, carry liquid metal in my veins and charge through the steel innards of my urban artistry.
H is a whisper, a table, a way to grow soft and congeal beneath the elevated visions of A; to make bed, make featherpeace with everything towering on the shoulders of my head.
SSSS: snakes. I am so fond of Jezebel, the sassy queen, the torque of the Celts, the snake of infamy because of its link to buried Goddesses. Snake as in cycles and belly-to-the-dirt gyrations, sex, slither inward and coiled.
And finally E as in Everybody does good–every one, each, earth, ear, energy. E is the mystic of the bunch, but syllable-ized in ecstasy, the gorgeous elixir of she, E, Shae away from Shame. Shade the essence with an ocean’s worth of umbrella, drink in the hurricane: this funnel can contain it. E for Even If. Effervescence. How everything really bubbles just under the surface.