⁕                                                                                  .

*                                    

                           ∗

•                                   

                    .

∗                                                              

       i     ◊

· •                am a                ◦ 

                    sentimental                   ∙ 

∗           •     physicist.          ∗    ◦·

       ⁕·        observing      ∙        ⋰

º     the gravity     ⋱

             ∗·       of emotion.                    

                    noting the                   

                  subtle lensing     ∗ ◦·

                   of light,                    

∗ ◦·     as it         

              filters                

.

∗ . ⊹      passed you                            

                  and      ∗ . ⊹

⁕       distorts my   ∗ ◦   ·

star weary

  eyes.∗

        *                 

·                   •             .

*            

.∗ .                                     ⊹

i must

crunch the∗ . 

∗ equations &∗ 

check them  

.

twice

∗ ◦·    before

i don

aluminum,

     ∗ . ⊹  .endure    ∗ ◦·

    your∗ . ⊹

∗ . ⊹endless

cold,

.•

.

& shoot

     for your ∗ ◦·

∗ ◦·    moon.•

○.

⁂⁖

.

the

∗ . ⊹mass

effect∗ . ⊹

of you

.

.consumes.

hypothesis:

.your

spirit’s   ∗ ◦·

∗ . ⊹path is

visible

light,∗ . ⊹

∗ ◦·   racing

towards

a cosmic

.

wall; to

decorate

galactic sky   ∗ ◦·

as microwave

impressionism.

•°.

.

                     *

·  •                   .

*

.to

make

sense of

your dark,*

·                  • .

*

.                                            

.   i spend

my nights

measuring

boundless

black

matter that

surrounds us.

enraptured

by the

.scented skyline

prophesying:

jet propulsion,

.

serenaded, and*

*

*                                                      

                            *

*

*lemonade rainfall;

Armageddon

upon another

acid planet.

.

your pain

upon the

reaches

.still unpinned

by travelled

telescopes;*

*

*                             

dying

technologies

making me

.*

                     *

*                       

jealous of*

all the

.places where

the universe

.sees the

parts

of you

i am

physically

.

incapable

of being. °

•.    

⁖                                                ⁕

.

                .                                                   º              *                     

*                                                                   *         

as love

moves

in ellipticals

it eclipses

my heart,. º *

* *

eventually.

always,

                .             º                      *

*                            *

the awe

never ceases

.

to inspire me.

invokes my

. º         muse      ..  º 

 *

*                                                               *

devote my

life to

translating

. ºthe beauty of

its euphoria. º

into the

.English

. ºvernacular.

.

ceaselessly.

                              •

.                       

.to release

. ºthe burden of

it’s memory. º

. º              •                          

   ⁕ .

*                            .           º     

∗                

.*         •

.                                  .•

.like the sun

.burned into

.my retinas.

.•    *

.

 *    i compose &

compute each

. º   *   intangible    • 

*     .

equation.

.

nuance

.

comprises

.

.•

.itself onto

endless notations.

converting numbers,

filtered through

my limbic system,

into colloquial

.prose.••

.•

.

.closest words

to illustration,

as my

.

cerebellum

can

surmise. •

. •°.

•.

code the

sentences

unto

my poems;

my theories

of everything.

.presenting

my poetry

.to everyone

as my

.thesis.

phantoms

obsessing

my mind

.my only

tangible

evidence.

am i

   ⁕ .                         

*

                                           ∗

..still the

only

person

who can⁕ .

              *

∗                       

.

see

how

perfect

we

are?

the

only

person

.

.who

sees

.our

future

written

.•

.

in the

•                                            ⁕                                                                                   .

*                                         

                                ∗

.

.stars?

.

-six pm 

                    *sentimental physics                ⁕ .

*

                                  ∗

•                                         

.

*

§

*

⁕www.by6pm.art

*

*six pm | 2018

Avatar The Last Airbender 2008-2012


Last night I had a dream about maple seeds twirling around me that felt so grounded in reality I didn’t realize I was dreaming until my dog woke me up to be let outside. I thought, “that first chapter of Braiding Sweetgrass must’ve really spoken loudly to me”. I’d read it weeks ago so truly this I believe. I dreamt of Skywoman and I dreamt that I’d found forgiveness for Eve. I woke with zest, ready for a day of hard work in the garden and a morning full of poetry and creamed coffee.

It was to my pleasant surprise that I walked out onto my garden deck, carrying that coffee in my grandmother’s fox mug, to find the glass table, my potted plants, my citronella candles, my beautiful little marijuana seedlings, all decorated with maple seeds—plucked dragonfly wings—and more still cascading down from what looked like Heaven. That was 8 AM, and in the Spring/Summer months 8 AM is yellow, the blue of the Winter mornings that I love dearly is shed in the earliest hours of 4 and 5, and I’ve not been waking up that early for a long time now.

I don’t try to believe in mystical coincidences, giving credence to these happenings to a higher power when the magic of simple healthy life is a miracle to be gracious for alone, but sometimes life has a way of making them hard to ignore. An italicized idea snug in the middle of a mundane sentence called “The Morning Routine”. And isn’t that really the moral of the Skywoman mythology/belief? Either way, I returned some of my coffee to the Earth, and I hope it was enough to say thank you for such blessed sights.

I’ve seen a lot of ugly sights in my life, and so I’m trying hard to remain grateful for every beautiful ones. Especially since that afternoon in November where I closed my mother’s dead eyes. I’m haunted quite literally by my mother’s ghost and not in the sense that we’d have hoped for jokingly when she was alive. I like to imagine, even just for my own sanity that she is in these maple seeds, in my seedlings, in the grasses, the clovers, the coffee…

Some days I don’t know what to write in the mornings, so I don’t. I study, or garden, or clean… But days like today—when the laundry has piled and the floors beg me for a mop—it all boils over into my dreams. I know I’m on fire or steaming; I’m pouring over the edge with some experience, well of thoughts, emotionally ripe and it all must flow out of me somewhere. So I find a page and I let it bleed red.

Perhaps one day these seeds of thoughts will be a great maple. Those who plant the seeds of maple trees never live to see how tall the trees grow, or live drink of their sugar even one time, do they? And it’s okay that this is the way. I believe it is so, anyway.Paige



Paige Six | 5.22.21

holy-moly

So yesterday I enrolled in college almost accidentally, but certainly impulsively!

I’m going to go back to get a science degree in Botany/Horticulture. This is a big shift from my previous physics focus; I’m going to have to take a surprising amount of new courses because of that. But I think I’m good for it. I think my problem with my initial college focus was three things:

₁. I wasn’t happy about the actual practice of the jobs. I am an active person who likes to move around and to change focus. I think working in environments that shift with the seasons will serve my desires.

₂. As a single mother the demand and focus on time away from home simply was unacceptable.

₃. Minimizing debt. I have a stunning amount of education on a very small tab and I intend on keeping it that way. I’m well below the average debt margin for a person my age in America of equal education. While I might have to take on some extra debt I plan on paying courses outright this time around. 

I have some real life longevity goals, but first I need to have the credentials to achieve them. So this is my first step. With luck and patience I’ll have my new Associates degree lined up in 2 years, because I plan on taking one-two classes at a time for the more challenging requirements. Because I already spent 3 years at a university I will likely have a good amount of credits accounted for. Basic mathematics, humanities, arts, and language requirements should all be accounted for leaving me the ability to focus on my actual desired course load.

If I decide to take on a full course load I could potentially have the degree in less than a year. But I don’t think it would be wise. I’m not in a rush. I want to have high scores and be able to do this at my leisure. My daughter is still home, and young enough to need me frequently. I also will need to be in school for some of my more focused classes working with the plants or in a lab, so I can’t set myself up for failure by devoting all of my time to school when I know that I will have obligations at home to compete for time with. 

On a darker note I had a miscarriage yesterday and no it’s not my first. While I’m not trying to get pregnant by any means, I have to admit that it was a strange and sad way to wrap up what was turning out to be a very optimistic day. I’ll keep my head up, of course. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d gone back to school only to find out that I was expecting again.

I went a long time in my life without ever getting pregnant, and not for being careful. I don’t know why now all of a sudden I keep being thrust into the hormonal whirlwind of it. Sometimes it really feels as if the whole world paused while I figured myself out and now that I’ve become more comfortable in my skin it’s fast forwarding, everything is all happening at once.

Ultimately an unexpected pregnancy was what stopped my training for the military in 2019. Granted it was the first in a succession of unfortunate events not the least of which being COVID and losing my beloved job. 2021 is looking to be just as wild and unpredictable as it’s preceding year, which was just as trying as the year before that in my life. It was 2 weeks after my wedding that I found out and frankly my body hasn’t been the same since.

Every year people make resolutions, but I like to meditate on a word. In 2019 my word was Discipline. In 2020, I was so broken up about the death of my mother that I didn’t pick a word. And in 2021 my word was Remain. I think I picked that for 2021 because 2020 was the first time in my life that I actually wasn’t on the run from or to something. I had a creative renaissance in my late 20’s and 2020 allowed me to live in it, without having to play strange geometric scheduling puzzle games with my time.

I came out of 2020 knowing that I am ready to start making decisions. Not because I had to (because I don’t have to change a thing), but because I know myself well enough to start cementing my foundation. Perhaps many people will think I’m too old for that. But my time was never my own until now, and so I unapologetically have gotten to know myself better. I didn’t live for a boss. I got off of the internet for a year and didn’t chase ‘likes’, ‘comments’, or popularity. I started my own website, I drafted my own books, I started my first novel, and created freely.

Now I’m going to try and make a new dream come true. I hope with this education to do many things. But most of all, I hope to find balance, wonder, and to make the world a better greener place.

 ♥ -Paige

Aladdin 1992

i.
i had a dream
there were polaroids of us.
developing sunken
and strewn across
my pink comforter.

(a soft cosmos.)

i saw how happy we were,
you tall and in your glasses,
arms around me and hunched
to envelope your frame
around mine.

behold; my real smile.
not where my controlled lips
stiff; cover my gum line,
to feign the sort of “elationship”
i experienced only when
we would speak…


ii.
shut the curtains.
i don’t even want
the sun to filter in
through the fabric
& change the tone
of my pale skin.

i want to stay the same,
i want to be exactly as i was
the day you reached across,
felt me, and i touched you.
 

iii.
i hope to hold our whole world
and hand it to you in my palm.

(even if mine crumbles.)

Atlas bent & crippled
i am devoted to
holding you up.
i will not shrug.

(oh, i must move on)


iv.
(no.) cleanse my home
w. white sage & string
along my bedpost
bewitched apples cored.
finally biting into you
was like biting into
an apple that hid a star.


and *omitted,
how i adore stars.
i lose sleep
surrounded by them,
counting them, staring
into mirror telescopes
until my eyes burn
and my vision blurs.


i will hold you
in my mind’s eye
forever. i will dedicate
and devote every motion
onward towards the path
which leads back to you.
 

(even if it feels eerily, like eights.)


(infinity.) behold infinity
within the iris of your
half-m∞n eyes smiling
back in a beam.


v.
i’ll race time to the future,
at the far end of our solar system.
first steps cracking untouched
crust of Pluto’s nitrogen snow, 
at the  center of her heart-
shaped crater. look back into
space as the glim of Earth
is licked (–flickers)

(the moment of our first kiss.)

like these memories, no more
than a spectacle, a twinkle, in the
otherwise steady shine of Earth
bathed in our Sun’s overcast light.
filtered and shrunk by distance and
gravity as a star–finally, a star
i had never gleaned before. (oh!)
how fortune smiles upon all…


(who behold you, *omitted.) six pm

*revised 2021

Paige Six | 2019

There is strength in our power, power in our pain. Not everyone can be touched, struck, and survive. Energy is worth the same; passion or pain. Those who have been through the most have the most to let go.

Make music, not excuses. Chase art, not fame. Build something lasting, the empire’s collapsing. Made of paper, and we harness fire. Don’t be afraid to ask the stars for what you desire.

{*rant inspired by good vibes and Guante, because lightning struck twice.

Aladdin 1992

Dear 6,

     I write you to allow myself closure. The truth I’ve never revealed to you is how after years of atheism and searching for answers it was only upon meeting you that I almost believed in God.

     I’d spent my young years with my nose to the grindstone and had very little time for fun and frolic. I have always been restless, a wild-child in my soul diving into fiction to suppress these desires. I’d sacrificed education for hourly wages necessary to keep the roof over my head. I exposed these truths to you in shame to be comforted by the thick tusk of your shoulder.

      The musk of your natural body still intoxicates my senses. The deep sienna of your skin against the champagne color of my wrists trembling as you placed upon its thin wafer layer a first kiss. Where did it all go wrong? Was it how our bodies didn’t quite fit the way our minds melted like wax and our conversation flowed like wine? The awkward communion of the first sacrament of our union…

     This I won’t forget: your deception and how its reveal decapitated the holy body of our bond at the slender curve of its neck.

     There are two instances in my life that are traumatic blessings: the birth of my child at the age of 18 and the loss of you at 28. To the other side of this continent you reside with a whole fraction of my soul. I write you this letter in hopes you might know. But I send nothing to you, our communication will remain cold.

Save you discover this letters, until which no bars will I hold.

Yours,

3.14

*For him whose name meaning is heart, and the associated lucky number is 6.

*six pm | 2021 {notes on poems