Happy Halloween, y’all!
We went to go see Mistress Stephanie and her Melodic Cat
and Foot Patrol and Quintron and Miss Pussycat.
Sadly, our taxi never arrived and it was nearly 4am
so we didn’t make it to the Enchanted Forest.
All my footmen turned into mice, and my head was a gourd filled with fluid.

Chesley is a very sick bunny indeed.
He is used to test products that make us more beautiful.

I am Spirulina, the Seaweed Queen!

Amazing Jebus

Beautiful Princess Mombi

Violet made a gorgeous cuckoo clock costume.
So very black forest fancy!

Pris threatened to twist heads off with her thighs all night.

Mimes!

Colin was an incredible bone collector/forest-creature/river-spirit
(川の神 kawa no kami)

His mask was so amazing, the bones made a lovely sound when he walked.

Alisan was an Alligator Princess with the most unbelievably stunning
crocheted metal tail festooned with prickly pear cactus spikes.
I wish I’d gotten a good picture of her entire ensemble..

Here she is, however- at the end of the night
where we are heavy-lidded and dreamy,
turning into pumpkins..

All Soul’s Day is honored at my tiny muertos altar,
a meagre ofrenda for my beloved dead ones..
My heart is parading for Day of the Dead in New Orleans..
Recently, I had this strange dream:
We are riding high on the overpass
past burnt out buildings, skyrises
and office complexes destroyed by fire, explosions.
I smell the lingering odor of jet-fuel and realize
that I am mixing up my disasters.
The airplanes flew into these skyscrapers,
immolating all the grey-suited workers and then
tidal waves of briny salt water rushed in to carry
them all out to sea.
The gutted husks, blackened with soot and mold
gape at eye-level, a testament to the destruction
of business as usual.
Next thing I know I’m on the street-car,
bumping over the tracks and as I gaze down
(somehow out and over, extended through the window
my nose inches from the ground)
the sunlight through the slats
makes chiascuouro stripes, strobing black and gold.
In between the wooden slats and metal rails,
tiny bisque dollies, frozen charlottes, are lined up.
Each one represents a victim of the terrible serial killer
that has been plaguing New Orleans neighborhoods.
There are so, so many.
Black dolls, white dolls, boy dolls,
girl dolls, baby dolls, and granny dolls.
Mardi Gras Indian dolls too.
I am crying, gasping doubled over, uncontrollably seized
by this inexorable loss- insult to injury, to murder
a community when it’s so far down.
So many dolls, each one lined up tenderly.
Placed there between the rails as testament
by the ones who loved them, who are left,
who may be next.
The old ladies on the streetcar tut-tut
and hand me hankies and shake their
gaudy prayer beads. They tell me:
“You know he sat in that very seat
where you are sitting right now.
Everyone says he’s very stupid,
but he’s not.
He is extremely intelligent.
That’s how he’s been able to kill
so many and not get caught.”
The serial killer is our president.
He is willful neglect, ethnic cleansing
using natural disaster as a weak guise.
Hiding murderous intention behind ham-handed fumbling.
I get off at the Cafe du Monde Train Station (I wish it really existed!)
where the sympathetic ticket-seller lady
nods kindly at my tear-smeary face and gives me an eclair.
I get on my bicycle and there’s this church
I need to get to in a field where a party is happening
but I’ve never been there before and I’m lost.
I ask the neighbors for directions
and pull out a map, tracing imaginary itineraries
for routes I’ve never taken, but only dreamed of.
I’m always dreaming about bike routes in New Orleans
I never saw before. There are so vivid, so real.
I wonder if they are really there.

Santissima Muerte!

Darling San Francisco Kittens,
I am coming your way!
My grandfather and I will be in town
from November 11th-17th
short and sweet..
Please, let’s frolic-
show me your favorite places!

For everyone in Austin,
please come to the GHOSTS SHOW
at the Museum of Ephemerata
Saturday, November 3rd
from 7pm-10pm
I’ve lent them some pieces
for the exhibition, Luna Tart
will be performing, and it
will be glorious.