Medea at her Sorcery – 2 versions of same

colored pencils, graphite and pastels on 18 by 24 paper

black and white digital photo of the same


Queen of Pluto – Part II

Part II

From the Queen of Pluto’s Travelogue

I have disassociated – I am Queen

Of the Milky Way’s cerulean baby
the life of the earth girl is merely a nightmare
that flits in the colder regions of my skull
hiding in the tiny hollow spaces in the bone

1979 – I visit Planet Earth
in my Gibbler Ship
When I eventually return home
everyone will have died
It is the law
There will only be numbers where beings used to breathe
calculations that cannot deceive

I float in a cold chamber with windows
my very own bathysphere
over this salt soil and sea
over the green jagged bits
the gray wanton pointings

I would show myself to the child below
with her gold braid
and muddy knees
Hello Earthling
who haunts my slumber – whose screams stab at my contentment

See my remnant gills
how they swish
in memory of an oceanic past
and the webs between
my toes and fingers
like they said of Anne Boleyn

You like my lace?
It was made by Dwarvish Tatters
They love space and time
down to a nubbin – It’s all in the numbers my dear
in the steadfastness of equations

So long little girl
I am floating onward
in this chamber
no bigger than an ice cube
Still it is a home to me on the waves of time
over this strange
over-sized spheroid

Lucy Simpson, 10-1-2015

Queen of Pluto

Part I

Undisputed Queen of Pluto

I am blond and tall with an overbite
reminiscent of bunnies
at nine years of age

I am also the undisputed
Queen of Pluto, the farthest
bluest, frozen planet

I steal my mother’s blue eyeshadow
dip my finger in the sky rondelle
and face cream to form a paste
to cover my earth-skin

I become her
cladding myself in royal vestments
scarves, old gowns.  I form a crown
for my head of sere branches.
My sister’s baton is my sceptor.

There is no heaven beyond the clouds
only the blue, breathless still of Pluto
I want to be there in the deep freeze
of never-ending winter

Not here with my father
an animated corpse, ash-skinned
with bulging veins and white-blooming
fungus from showering too much
to scrub off his sins

and my mother, who is slowly
drowning herself in glass after glass
of cheapest Julio Gallo table wine
a sour, warm, red sea
creeps up her prone body each night

It is not my ocean; mine is outer space
black vacuum –
I want to freeze till I am cyan
till I feel nothing
nothing at all


Nh-pluto-in-true-color 2x JPEG.jpg

July,14 2015 photo of Pluto, the plutoid, from New Horizons Long Range Recconaissance Imager.  Not as blue as she once seemed.