Like most artists, we make art because there is an itch, an inexorable itch that grows from the inside out. So we scratch and scratch to ease it just a bit, digging deeper and deeper, but no matter how much we shovel out the grime and transform it into something delicate and extravagant, it will always be there spreading with its roots entwined in the intricacies of our hearts.
As for my itch, it bleeds for the Body, Spirit, and Memory. The Body is a physical, sensual, and erotic being to which my poetry succumbs. The Spirit, for me, lies in the beauty of Nature, it’s disasters and calm autumns. It’s the magic that one witnesses in the flames of a sunset, clouds that wander lavender, apricot, and fuchsia. And Memory, she is a trickster that hides in all six senses. She is the smell of vanilla; the graze of blades of grass in between my toes; she’s the colors of all my orgasms; and sometimes the taste of cinnamon that reminds me of DC, just to name a few.
I’ve created this space in hopes of better documenting all of my itches, loves, desires, frustrations and most importantly to share a bit of myself with you.
–Luecretia, the esoteric ❤