"A nomad I will remain for life, in love with distant and uncharted places." -Isabelle Eberhardt
"A nomad I will remain for life, in love with distant and uncharted places." -Isabelle Eberhardt
Tentacles
Aimee Geurts • Jul 21, 2022

A ghost makes contact

Reaching its tentacles

Through the mist


Tentacles made of 

Stories, shared history, past trauma

Love and hate


The history I hold

In this meat-sack

I call a body


Some might say

I hold it in my heart

But I know

I hold it in my brain


Where I toss & turn the words

Churning the old phrases

And even conversations yet to happen


I go to the woods

To clear the tentacles

From my head


I should have been here all along


A neon green caterpillar 

Scoots in front of me

Oblivious to my existence


A small brown frog

Sits in the middle of the trail

Patiently waiting for me to cross


The creek babbles

Chattering and ranting

Whispering ideas through my ears


Despite the calm of the woods

I know I’ll let the ghost in

One way or another


I have my own tentacles

Sticky at the ends

I am ready to strip the layers of skin from us both


*Inspired by the Neil Gaiman poem The Hidden Chamber

By Aimee Geurts 07 Feb, 2023
An Ode to Midge
By Aimee Geurts 29 Jan, 2023
A poem
By Aimee Geurts 20 Jan, 2023
In Great Circle Jaime says, “The compromise is that I’m living day to day without making any sweeping decisions.” I realize I have fallen into this way of thinking. Whispering to myself, everything is fine today. Although I do still enjoy imagining other lives, get caught up in the swell of possibility, for the first time in a long time I feel settled.  Jamie’s sister Marian says, “Is that compromise? It sounds a bit like procrastination. You don’t think you’ll go back to being how you were before, do you?” I know I won’t go back to being how I was before. I know that today. I’m not sure what I’ll know tomorrow. Reading articles about women realizing they are tired of working the corporate ladder and feel vindicated in my low-paying jobs with no benefits. When the farmer in Spain doesn’t reply to my emails about a room and board work agreement, when the Airbnb host in Greece offers me his camper van instead of his home, I decide it’s all too much and I give up. I’m not upset about it. I’m relieved. Instead, I make easy plans to see the Redwood Forest, right here in the good ol’ U. S. of A. I plan to stop in Medicine Bow, WY on my way from Denver to Bismarck next time I’m there. My next adventure is right around the corner instead of a nine-hour flight away. I make plans to make less plans. I stop looking for more jobs. The low-paying jobs I have now are quite fulfilling and they pay me enough to cover my health insurance and put a little aside. What they give me is time. Time to have lunch with my sister-in-law on her birthday. Time to take a 4-day weekend to see my new niece. Time to take a walk downtown on a Wednesday and bring Roxy a sandwich while she slings books at the low-paying bookstore where I no longer work. Time to read all the books in my house. Time to volunteer in the middle of the day. Call it compromise. Call it procrastination. I call it feeling settled.
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