Self.

Soft feathers have points.

Don't feed the wolves, they'll howl either way.
Soon frozen under a crisp layer of permafrost with their mouths permanently open.
Gawking, bystanders, sneered faces; now feared faces.
A wave of the hand and a single collapse, splintered remains.
There is a rattling in the back and an anxiousness of approaching night.
I stand shadowed by the light.
Your hairs standing, then falling. In clusters. Nests along the trail.
I have lead you to where I lay. The soft fur matted with red from the harm you used to cause.
Ten fold love, ten fold, not just four.
In packs they travel, only when hunting, but if you create unnecessary confrontation you can not stop the deafening sound of screaming mountains.

We used to carve holes in them for dens, like wombs in the earth.
Sticks poked in until we grew numb.
A gnashing of teeth and the star filled eyes, only ancients recognize us.
Though continued testing of authenticity. There are false empathy dwellers among,
they feed on energy. Keep your hands balled tight, and only travel at night.
Watch from the places they fear, and be it if you must.
My name is what's mine, say it again, dare turn you to dust.
Blown off old books and on the back of a shelf,
soon you'll come clean and then pray for collapse.
you'll need a rest soon, from the false anguish you claim.
On a silver plated platter, dear, your fifteen minutes of fame.

They bow down before like deer in the moss.
warm beds now collect dew.
A bird's soft chatter telling what she has heard.
Deep breath in the back, spin in circles to find what is finding.
May not be as you want.
Wishes need payment, and take as they will. From those who asked for much.
Their stomachs soon fill.
Glistening bellies encrusted with jewels, but nothing's inside, just miniature tombs.
Billowing fog over the sea. You're no longer recognized by ancients, the elsewhere, or me.

S.M.

Don't forget who hit the brakes.

You want that reminder of what's happening?
The trauma of past lives, every hole in your soul, having the deepest black galaxies throbbing through.
You want to feel every bone break when it's rushing in.
Threading you back together with such grace that others think you're dancing by yourself again.
You close your eyes because too much contact will create combustion.
It's when your hair grows fastest, when your eyes glow the brightest, and all your secrets are taken by the wind.
The taller you stand, you can reach the Goddess herself, but she gives you the look your mother used to.
"Too soon" Hands smacked and you're pushed back down, quick breaths.
And you're running past yourself in the race again.
You want to win, but you can't. Pull over and have a meltdown in the middle of the high way. Soak into the pavement and through to the Earth.
Get back to your own level. Floating through the trees, but instead your sitting around smiling on your knees.

Hit the breaks before stars collide, she wants to climb in but hasn't even asked for a ride.
You are looking in the rear view mirror, she's writhing around speaking tongues that she can't even translate. Shaking her hands embellished with all her little gems.
You remember back then, you remember the street lights, running reds, and staring upside down after too much rum.
I'll be the one standing in front when you swallow your raving tongue.
Smiling you and thanking you for the fake friendship trinkets.
You'll be laughing and won't even notice how the warmth glitters out until in turns to the cold sharp ideas you placed in the jar you gave me.
Under the flowers, a little green shard and you think peace offers work that way?
But you're going to be left crying when you're tied up and thrown in a field where I found myself.
You want to see what I've seen?
I'll drag you there. I've got all the strength in the world, she surrounds me in a light blue aura. I magnetize and attract the ones that have eyes that get too wide.
Curled lips and quick thoughts, can't help you here.
Praying hands in the collective nest, shredded papers and deciphering hidden messages. You think I'm speaking to you? It's her, not me.
Awakening, you want to feel it, then you don't.
Your whole soul is going to feel this.
Whatever intentions from your index finger that taps onto your temple,
to the altars you'll create.
Reflect, waving lined palms and standing figures in the hall will glow my light blue.
I come in cloaked, but you'll know who.
-SM

And you're scratching right below the surface, the sound is deafening.
How many times do I have to escape you, life times and in dreams,
quick turn to check my distance and you're still in my tracks.
All these dead ends and I'm climbing walls I built to keep you out,
but I've trapped us in together.

/ˈhī(ə)rəˌfant/

110214- Saree McClaran
20x24

Messed with the wrong Witch.

So it's a storm you're wishing for, little one?
Your wings can't handle the winds I'll send your way.
All your white lights will melt to murky hues and the only bitch you'll have to blame is You.
I've got lifetimes under my belt, so watch those cards you've dealt.
You don't want your world torn apart, then don't try cutting down the roots from my tree.
Because when you can no longer reach the ground, the only one left standing will be Me.

Skate deck project

Houses with sun lit rooms, going into hallways, going back into new rooms, to the same halls.
There you are, always standing. Always.
Sometimes I've confused you with others, but I know the moon when I see it shine it's soft blue glow.
Your hands melting through the wallpaper.
Saved me, then threw me from the sails, just to save me again.
I look away, run through rooms, and you're in the door way.
You walk toward me, I feel the warmth, and let it fill me with a heaviness that will never set. Creeping up my chest and crawling through my mouth.
I put my hands over, to silence, whatever it is, words that have solidified.
I sit on the edge and look down. Legs dangling, as reckless as you left me.
Look up, the sun is bright.
You see her, wafting down in scents with lilac and lemon in her hair.
Eyes catch but your hands don't, flitting through.
Dance in these halls tonight.
Summer children.

-Saree McClaran
080314

Had a dream that I ate a large orange and blue spider, while explaining to my mom that tarantulas are loving and affectionate to their owners.
My mom stops me and asked why I ate the other spider, and I said "to consume her."

I foraged on my own through the day.
Like carved words on her womb and thighs. I knew it was you.
Her screaming became listless, her pale hands stained blue.
Her eyes were a dark grey haze, looking up reflecting the clouds that drifted by.
Her mind drifted along with them.
I reached down my branches.
Lift up, my darling.
Not the whole world, is so unkind.
Made wings with my leaves and sent her on her way.
She whispered a song on her flight up.
One only mother's know.
And I wept. I wept for centuries, my branches grew longer, reaching for all our children.
A protective net, a web we weaved.
I taught the locust, the crickets, and flies.
And in the spring and summer, you'll hear in unison how the wind still hums.
For you, our little one.

Saree-

home

unwrapping

Dreamt that a friend and I were walking through a clearing in the woods around sunset, there was a small pond, crystal clear, you could see how soft the algae looked at the bottom and tadpoles and salamanders skittering back and forth between little pockets.
We walked passed but kept watching them, we got to a road to cross and suddenly all these bright orange newts were crawling out of these puddles and going right for the street while cars were coming. I started panicking and jumped into the puddle that was actually very deep and tried to collect the newts in the edge to bring them back in, my friend stood at the edge gathering whatever ones he could to get them back in the water.
Then I continued to have nightmares that all the animals were defending each other from humans and they were left without their mates and children.

Sometimes I have found more comfort in falling off the face of the earth than being surrounded by human presence.
That doesn't make me anti-social, it doesn't make me a recluse, it doesn't mean anything more than I find solace in silence, and just being immersed in my own thoughts; in my own being.
Sometimes I don't read my messages, sometimes I do, but never reply.
Sometimes I'm busy, and sometimes I just say that I am.
That doesn't mean I care less about people, it doesn't mean I'm being avoidant in order to hurt anyone or push anyone away.
People need their own space to breathe.
If that means I have to run for miles in the other direction, then I'll run as fast as I can.
Then I'll take my time when I decide return.

33014

Three days and I already feel your pull.
Damn water moons.
Might as well go against the tide if I want to make it through the Dark Moon this month.
All your books of secrets have had their pages pulled and thrown to flame.
If you go hunting witches, you'll fucking find them.
Breathe me in.
My clothes still smell like the smoke.

4 a.m. keeps all of my secrets.
Deepest thoughts in the darkest hours.
Where romance has no name, where my soul was sold.
-Then found again.
Repenting unto yourselves, smirks on faces, blood on hands.
Fake remorse.
I get what I want because I earn it.
When I drop the vase, when it hits the ground and the ashes spread,
when spirits whisper through the uplifting winds.
I send you thoughts by the flickering blue light of candles.
Then light fires to beds; as you ask what spells are cast.
I can only smile as you flatter yourself.
Shake it from your being, dear.
Learn the dance, or get left behind.

-Saree

we'll runaway

If you look close, you will see that with each blink we all shield ourselves.
Secrets on flower petals. Blink.
A certain aroma carried through spring's eager breeze. Blink.
Running your fingers along a windowsill where the sun has added it's warmth. Blink.
Houses settle, but our souls don't. Bodies break down, then feed the earth.
We disconnect into particles of energy. We accumulate elsewhere.
Flower petals.
Nostalgic aromas.
Fingers.
Windowsills.
The Sun.

S.M.
011914

Her dilated pupils, flooded with the vision.
For all the light you have inside, there is an equal amount of dark.
If you don't know how to use one, you sure as hell aren't going to be able to use the other.
Tear it open to reveal that you are more in tune with the true nature of your being than you can understand.
Mouth is moving, but no words come.
Blood thirsty, and it's in your hands.
You don't leave this dance until I say, "I'm done".

shape shift

Dreamt of beating a huge green snake with a stick that kept lunging at a crowd of people I was guiding through the woods.
I kept telling it, "What did I tell you?" And it turned into a brunette young girl and she looked scared. I told her to get up and had her go into the crowd of people.
I had to restrain myself from hitting her again even though she was a human now... Or in a human form.
Either way, in my dream I kept wondering if the other people in the crowd were also "other" creatures that might attack, and instead of leading them to safety I should go climb a tree and let them fend on their own.

Upon waking, I realize this is reality.
To the tree it is.

I like rooms that are filled with natural light all year long. I always keep sheer curtains up so the colors blend onto the walls and ceiling and spill onto the floor. I like trinkets, knick knacks, and house plants on shelves. I like colorful modernish homes with open spaces and high ceilings.
I like the smell of lemon, berries, and pineapple to fill my home and make me think of warm weather.
I like freshly vacuumed floors, poofy pillows, soft blankies, and cuddling with my little Rhu and a kitty kneading me.
I like making art that looks like how I feel inside, and seeing those feelings reflect on others when they look at it. I love that my son has picked up the love for creating. He sits on my lap as I smear paint across a canvas and I'm not restricted by his little curious hands wanting to help add his renditions.
I like that each afternoon my home is filled with the sounds of him giggling and repeating everyone, his little hand reaching up and wanting to teach me the sign language he has learned that day.
I like finding rows of hot wheels on all the window sills, along the bathtub, a tower of blocks in my doorway, scribbles on my walls, a strategically placed row of foam letters on my keyboard when I turn on my computer.
Today they spelled "Luv".

That feeling you get when you are standing still,
You look down with your mind instead of just your eyes.
You are no longer standing, you are aware, you are an energy.
Emitting. Ominous.
You feel tall, floating, drifting.
It wraps you in a nostalgia, it fills your mouth with a certain buzzing.
You are aligned.
Parallel, with someone else emitting the same frequencies.
Inner.
Crawl inside, through tunnels into secret passages filled with tchotchke that have accumulated where your soul cleansing is to occur.
I am vibrating now, standing like a pillar in a hollowed out cave.
Holding in my small hands, the weight of the sun.
Meditate on it. Breathe me in.
Give us time. Come inside.

-Saree McClaran
122313

There was a long dark room, flickering shadows everywhere, as far as you could see. Though I stopped trying to focus my eyes because it kept showing me glimmering faces.
Hands reaching out to hold my hands, to touch my arms, fingers brushing softly on my neck.
All of them trying to talk at once and ask questions, in the know that I am aware.
Possibly too aware, overwhelmed a bit.
Simple complications...

Next up, obstacle removal.

Dreamt that I was sitting next to a mound of rocks. I had one in my hand that was smooth. It was grey with sparkly blue lines on it. I heard some one behind me and stood up to look and there was a man in the dark smiling.
He reached his hand out to me but I couldn't move though.
He had an armful of leaves, vines, and flowers.
I handed him the rock I was holding. It broke in half in his palm, the sparkling blue spilled out like glitter. He sighed like he was disappointed.
It made me feel bad.
He told me "Let me show you." Then threw everything he was holding into the air.
It looked like we were in a naturey snowglobe.
"Give me time." I said.
"Time ... waits." he replied.

better?

If someone can whisper something in your ear it's only you that can let it reside there, it's only you letting the doubt it instilled resonate off your past.
I wasn't there, I can't pick up those pieces, they are not mine.
I have my own pieces.
I can only take a deep breath each time someone knocks them from my hands when I have found and gathered them all Myself.
I have too much faith in people, even when they give me no reason.
Don't say I didn't try.