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Tracy Dimond

CANCER AQUARIUS CANCER
Remember when a celestial body 
was named MOON MOON?

Lo wants to fight the moon.
Watch out for your inner moon.

How many ways do I rage? 
Let me count the ways. 

I am having the feeling 
of a vulnerability hangover.

Who needs answers 
when there is ego.

Bodies are bags of energy 
until motivation runs out.

Knowledge hunts me
while I ask why we don’t distribute resources.

Knowledge haunts me.
God grant me the serenity to fuck shit up.

It’s been advised to refrain
from using history as cultural Zoloft.

I am a rotating black hole of pay to play 
in which I try to get rid of my body.

​
​MASLOW UNDERSTANDS FULFILLMENT
I really want a new tattoo
like a tramp stamp of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.
I feel self-actualized meeting physiological needs.
Example: after reading about heart disease,
I relocate the meat on my pizza to the garbage.
Time to live with the confidence of a city bus merging.
I feel really good after flossing.
My self-esteem increases
when under the impression nothing’s in my teeth.
Andrew said I should write about 
a tramp stamp of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs
but the poem is right here.
Every poem clambers for some sort of peace.
I sit with hot bones,
turn away from the straight gaze
and walk into a leather bar
while asking why airports don’t have flash tattoo parlors
for a permanent piece of fleeting change.



Tracy Dimond is a 2016 Baker Artist Award finalist. She is the author of four chapbooks, including: TO TRACY LIKE / TO LIKE / LIKE, I WANT YOUR TAN, Grind My Bones Into Glitter, Then Swim Through The Shimmer, and Sorry I Wrote So Many Sad Poems Today. She collaborated with Amanda McCormick on the performance, DID YOU COVER UP? a blend of I WANT YOUR TAN and Amanda McCormick’s & THE GREEN. She holds her MFA in Creative Writing & Publishing Arts from the University of Baltimore. Find her online at poetsthatsweat.com.
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