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Milk Star, 2024
published by hooops, 2024, Berlin DE 



four modes
    shedding
    absorbing
    remembering
    conserving

three settings
    Mountain
    Valley
    Mountain-and-Valley


memory works like a weed growing roots in one place and blowing seeds to another

sky changes color
forms loose definition 
insomnia
at night i remember stuff

eins 
zwei 
drei 
vier 
fünf
sechs
sieben 
acht 
neun 
zehn

a faint beat 

my body grows heavier 
i become a vague presence
falling asleep falling awake
leaking into another world
waves will catch you
    

    instruction:
    breathe in, breathe out 
    drink your tea

i see pickled daisies
i see freshly foraged nettle
i see the grass dancing  
i see blooming lilacs
i see food being flowers
i see flowers being food

a bunch of blooming dandelions in a glass vase
their white fuzzy seeds almost glowing 

artemis didnt want to get married to a man 
and was banned from the city 
to live in the mountain forests with a group of nymphs 
being a major lesbian  

she is also the goddess of a NASA program
that is dedicated to return astronauts to the lunar surface

“Our success will change the world”

Artemis Generation ™ 

mugwort likes a wasteland
it lives in cracks and next to the highway




we drink the tea and go to sleep 

we are standing in the kitchen 
i am making Roasted Dandelion Root Tea

dandelion
milk witch
white wandering seeds
ghost of a flower
white fuzz 

i read in thea lenarduzzis “Dandelions”
the delicate white flowers are used as an analogy for the mind transformed by alzheimers
“decay of a flowering brain 
pollinating the world”


she tells me she recently learned that 
at 20 weeks 
a fetus with an uterus has a fully developed reproductive system
with six to seven million eggs

the egg that later grew into me 
was already present in my mothers 
before my mothers belly 

the egg that later grew into my mother 
was already present in my mother 
before my mother 
before my mothers belly

anna 
christina 
marguerite 
louise 
this is already where my knowledge of the line ends

a few weeks ago 
i turned the same age 
my mother had when she was growing me 

i read online that after starting the menstrual cycle
a person loses about 1,000 immature eggs every month 
on extendfertility.com 
i learn that this number even accelerates with age
accelerates, in italics 
“the good news is 
that egg freezing makes use of some of those 
otherwise lost eggs”

reading more about this i learn 
that when pregnancy does not occur
the egg is absorbed back into the body 
and the thick lining in the uterus is shed 
this is the period

after the period ends 
the cycle begins again 

a body bleeding

a seed
a stone
a stone being a seed being a body bleeding

i wonder if the eggs are actually lost 
if they are just absorbed back into my body




search terms: past, present, dream

living the dream
putting some dreams on ice 

a long time ago you sent me a postcard 
with a drawing by paul klee
Vergesslicher Engel 
forgetful angel

the angel looks down
slightly embarrassed

paul klee drew over 80 angels
they signified 
a crossing
a portal
a transition from life to death
i lost so many memories i had of the mother before my mother
Grossmami i called her
when i started writing this text 
i had even forgotten for a moment 
that she died of alzheimers
growing up i knew she was not a kind mother 
to my mother

i remember 
being in the laundry room 
i loved the cool stone floor 
and I liked being down there 
the room was filled with light 
and you could step out 
and be in the middle of the flower garden

i remember grossmami mending my doll gleisi
in an attempt to give her a tan 
i had placed gleisi on the stove and burned her
instead of a face there was white fuzzy wool coming out of her head
grossmami gave her a new face and she explained to me that it looked neat 
to place one of gleisis braids in the front 
and one in the back

i remember grossmami 
not being able to walk up the stairs of the house
she spent her time in a hospital bed in the TV room
i dont remember if grossmami remembered me

white fuzz
cloud thoughts 
brain fog

we enter through a narrow door into a roomaccompanied by our guidethey are completely dressed in whitethey lead us through a corridor through a door and sit us down on two plastic chairsthey ask us to focus our eyes onto the screen at all timeswe see a baby bird falling down a cliffit falls and falls we see it fall and fallit falls and fallsthe small feathery body bangs against rocks and is thrown around

cutwe see a naked pregnant person kneeling in the grasswe see a baby head being pushed out of their vaginawe see them holding a crying baby

cut

the guide comes back in and asks us questions about parenthoodthey ask us about our individual reproductive desires and predicaments
one thing you should never do is attempt to summon angels
they wont relate 
demons are more understanding
angels are endless 
and outside human time and emotions
they will never empathize
they are strict and unyielding 
they come to us with messages but they dont text 
you learned this from a witch who learned it on tiktok

they have no individuality and no story
nothing to choose from 
the moment they choose 
they fall out of the skies
like lucifer, 

falling for

a morning star




we gather on a blanket by the water 
and i read you this poem i found 

       Summer, Lake

       You can’t fish
       for light, or

       You can, but
       you have to

       throw it back.

above us birds circling
they move as a cloud and take a rest in a tree
a helicopter turning
the clouds are dark 
the water is murky
with spots of pollen floating
like there was an oil spill

another word for “seedbank”
#girlmoss
you can cook whatever you want but it should be small cute bites instagramable
looking at the clouds
learning names for leaves
im just vibing over here 

my desire to conserve seeds and eggs

what happens to a seed vault built into permafrost 
once when the permafrost melts 
how much rent do i have to pay for my eggs 
to be stored off-site

the mother 
before my mother 
before my mother 
was louise bergundtal
which translates into mountain-and-valley

i never knew about this name before 
and I love it for the balance it carries
balance being something 
I am always searching for

equilibrium

Berg und, and 
being a bridge connecting the mountain to the valley 

louise bergundtal had two children 
a daughter
my mothers mother – margaret 
and a son which name my mother does not remember
she tells me to ask my uncle

louise lost her son in a climbing accident
while he was out in the mountains
she heard violent knocking on the window 
but no-one was there

that was when he fell 

we are walking through the gardenthe grass is stretched widegeorg, the “earth worker” (dad) asks me about the different plants and trees we are passinghe shows me how to tell them apart and he tells me many times which ones to never!!! put in my mouth


･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆

            MilkstarLilyoftheValleyNightshade

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆


since then so much time has passed and it became more important to read other languages than the language of leaves
so it moved into the back of my mind

theres pollen gathering on my phone screen as i write this
a fine layer of yellow dusty stars

i live so much closer to the sky now