I found an ancient photograph of a collage I created in 2010.
I fucked with it.
Here is the result.
Tuesday, December 2, 2025
YOU WILL NOT FIND THIS AT FAMILY DOLLAR
Monday, December 1, 2025
Sunday, November 30, 2025
Saturday, November 29, 2025
Friday, November 28, 2025
BLACK FRIDAY DIARY
My husband is blasting his favorite kind of music from his room. Sounds like KISS. It's really lusty and emphatic. We're both Gen X but he was born in 1965 and I was born in 1973. There is a difference. He started laughing when I played this song for him. Not his jam. It is my latest favorite song. I'm so obsessed I looked up Cameron Winter's natal chart. Yes. He is in fact a Pisces with a Scorpio moon. I don't love that Geese will be playing Coachella next year with the usual suspects but such is the nature of the beast. There's a lot of shit to this world but sometimes you will find glints of gold. Cherish those.
I've been going down the newsletter rabbit hole. Fuck it. All this noise gets in the way of actual writing. I don't have time to figure out a goddamn template and then invite people to subscribe. I'm not on Facebook or Instagram. Thus. I do not exist. I have eight subscribers at X. I pretty much live at YouTube. Someone, something...God, Jesus, Santa Muerte, Joan of Arc, Lester Bangs, my late Sagittarius grandfather...keeps suggesting that I write. I was writing again but now I've lost the spiral notebook. I have stacks of books and magazines and tarot cards and crystals and clothes and makeup and wigs and records. But where is the spiral notebook that will become my next nonlinear novel? I need a year or at least a month alone in a cabin. But here in this house there is a xmas tree and cornbread I made from scratch and dishes always laundry always and love comments and hate comments on my tarot videos and goddamn a bitch gets tired and just wants to disappear.
I still don't know how to play guitar but I keep playing, anyway. I really loathe the smell of palo santo. Maybe I'll simmer some cinnamon on the stove.
Thursday, November 27, 2025
Wednesday, November 26, 2025
Tuesday, November 25, 2025
Monday, November 24, 2025
Saturday, November 22, 2025
Thursday, November 20, 2025
not a haiku but close enough #X #TWEET #fucKcoMMaS
He's a tacky overgrown toddler
with a shitty diaper
throwing a tantrum in Family Dollar.
$TRUMP
Wednesday, November 19, 2025
Tuesday, November 18, 2025
Monday, November 17, 2025
Friday, November 14, 2025
Thursday, November 13, 2025
Wednesday, November 12, 2025
Tuesday, November 11, 2025
Wednesday, November 5, 2025
Monday, November 3, 2025
Sunday, November 2, 2025
Saturday, November 1, 2025
HOLIEST DAY
November 1st of any year is the holiest day because I say it is. Selah.
"You're going to reap just what you sow."
Huginn has been telling me to write for a few years now.
I've been telling Huginn to fuck all the way off.
"Huginn. Writing doesn't put the delicious tacos on my plate."
That's what it's about on this planet. Putting delicious tacos on your plate. We all know this. But tacos or no tacos, I have to write. It is in my blood. Sangre. Writing is in my sangre. I don't know where this fire came from. It didn't come from my Taurus dad. It didn't come from my Gemini mom. We are a little bit our parents. We are a little bit our environment. But we are much more than that. I look to Western astrology for clues. I have Mercury in Pisces in the seventh (house of Libra) square Saturn in Gemini in the tenth (house of Capricorn). Tight. Mercury, my chart ruler, opposes my first house Virgo moon. I have to write.
Today I woke up and scribbled in my spiral notebook. I recorded my ramble and uploaded it to Patreon for my top two tiers. The ramble was regarding Saturn in Aries. The last time Saturn was in Aries was 1996-1998. Aries is my eighth house, the house of Scorpio. I died in 1996. I died in 1997. I died in 1998. I died in 1999. I'm not talking about a near death experience. I'm talking about pain. I'm talking about hurting so bad you wish for death. In January 1999 I turned off all the lights in the house in Greenwood Forest (off Junction Highway, in between Kerrville and Ingram, Texas) and played Billie Holiday in the dark. I drank cheap blush wine from the bottle. I drank vodka from the bottle. I swallowed a few allergy pills. I screamed at God. He was deaf. He was mute. There was no response. I looked for my Virgo stepdad's pistol. Couldn't find it.
I'm here. I'm in pieces. I'm whole. I'm fragmented. I'm a mess. I'm intact. I'm energetic as hell. I thrum. I myself am hell. I am deliberate and afraid of nothing.
I see a culling process. I see a harvest. Saturn moves into Aries in February 2026. Boots on the fucking ground. Die or be killed. That will make sense if you think really hard, harder than you are used to. People are lazy and entitled and looking outside themselves for all the clues and answers. Watch a YouTube tutorial. Consult the stars. Consult the cards. Shake the Magic 8 Ball. Better not tell you now. But you will come to a place where the only thing you feel are loaded guns in your face and you'll have to deal with pressure.
Friday, October 31, 2025
Thursday, October 30, 2025
Wednesday, October 29, 2025
When Good Writing isn't ENOUGH
I just deleted an email with that phrase.
Good writing is never enough.
If good writing were enough I'd be living in my dream mansion in Todos Santos right now.
Swimming naked in my pool with purple lights.
Sleeping in my immaculate cloud bed.
Waking up to green tea on the patio.
You have to know Elizabeth Gilbert and Oprah and Drew Barrymore.
Do you have a podcast? Bueno.
Do you have a table at AWP? Cool.
Is your daddy a professor at Berkeley?
Girl. You are on FIRE.
Tuesday, October 28, 2025
Friday, October 24, 2025
Thursday, October 23, 2025
Wednesday, October 22, 2025
Tuesday, October 21, 2025
Sunday, October 19, 2025
BUY SUPER CHERRY EXTRA
It's about damn time. My latest and possibly last poetry collection is now available at Amazon. I have several copies you can purchase directly from me. I'll be selling this book and the debut cassette with the same title in Toledo, Ohio next month.
Friday, October 17, 2025
Thursday, October 16, 2025
Wednesday, October 15, 2025
Tuesday, October 14, 2025
Monday, October 13, 2025
Sunday, October 12, 2025
Saturday, October 11, 2025
Friday, October 10, 2025
Thursday, October 9, 2025
Wednesday, October 8, 2025
Tuesday, October 7, 2025
Monday, October 6, 2025
Sunday, October 5, 2025
Saturday, October 4, 2025
Friday, October 3, 2025
Thursday, October 2, 2025
Wednesday, October 1, 2025
Misti Velvet Rainwater-Lites in A Thousand Syllables or LESS
I don't salute any flag on this planet.
I don't think owning a gun collection makes you a bad ass.
I don't think owning a bunch of books makes you an intellectual.
I don't think praying to Jesus makes you a Christian.
I don't think disavowing tarot makes you morally superior.
I don't think rejecting magical thinking makes you smart.
I don't think crystals make you spiritually superior.
I don't think burning incense makes you a witch.
I don't think writing poetry makes you especially interesting.
There are a lot of bad poems.
There are a lot of bad people.
There's a lot of unnecessary posturing and blabbering.
No one is holy.
I'm not Drew Barrymore.
I don't get down on my knees for any motherfucker.
Pedestals are stupid.
There are no heroes.
There are no more lovers left alive.
I grabbed that from the Pet Shop Boys.
I haven't had sex since November 2016.
It isn't your fault.
I'm not an embittered crone.
I'm a witch like Yoko Ono but not as rich and not as sexy.
I will never have sex again.
Carve it in stone.
I will never fall in love again.
Carve it in stone and paint it black.
This is not a poem.
This is a Ted Talk.
I have a few first editions.
I have more than a few crystals.
I have rings and bracelets and too many t-shirts.
I have a pair of fuck me heels on top of a bookcase.
I don't wear heels.
I don't close down the karaoke bar.
I don't want anyone's tongue in my mouth but mine.
I'm feeling Johnny Rotten circa "No Feelings."
I've got the same little britches to get glad in.
I've blocked my mom and her mom from my iPhone.
I love the idea of Vegas becoming a wasteland.
I'll return to Vegas when there are no trust fund brats left.
I'm giddy inhaling the smoke of every bridge I've burned.
You are not the boss of me.
I'm the King of Dirk.
Tuesday, September 30, 2025
Monday, September 29, 2025
Friday, September 26, 2025
Thursday, September 25, 2025
BLURB
Misti Rainwater-Lites knows everything, and it's all in her newest book Super Cherry Extra, 70+ West Texas punk vibe pages tumbling out in melodic cliches, kaleidoscopic cultural images from the delightful first poem to the last. She's in charge of every line from the get go, and you can't wait to see where she's going, somewhat like a movie. In Mundo Muerte, "The world ends tomorrow. Ready set GO. Smoke fills every room. The fire is sponsored by PRADA. 'None of this is real,' says Madonna." The energy of each poem is explosive, and yet so subtle you will read them with your heart in your throat. And don't read the last revealing poems first. Save them. You need this book for its fabulous brilliance!
~Susan Ward Mickelberry, author of And Blackberries Grew Wild
Tuesday, September 23, 2025
Monday, September 22, 2025
Sunday, September 21, 2025
Saturday, September 20, 2025
Friday, September 19, 2025
Thursday, September 18, 2025
Tuesday, September 16, 2025
Monday, September 15, 2025
Saturday, September 13, 2025
Friday, September 12, 2025
Thursday, September 11, 2025
Wednesday, September 10, 2025
Tuesday, September 9, 2025
Monday, September 8, 2025
Sunday, September 7, 2025
Saturday, September 6, 2025
Friday, September 5, 2025
Thursday, September 4, 2025
Wednesday, September 3, 2025
Tuesday, September 2, 2025
Monday, September 1, 2025
Sunday, August 31, 2025
Friday, August 29, 2025
another blurb for Super Cherry Extra
"Misti Rainwater-Lites has a pink guitar that never seems to be in tune and she’s right. That really doesn’t matter, because her poetry rings, screams, and sings with real human honesty that’s more refreshing than any celebrity cucumber water could ever be. Her new book Super Cherry Extra is the antidote for those of us sick of the fake, soulless, plastic pop culture that inundates the hours we're awake and half of the ones we’re sleeping, too. It is relentlessly and recklessly authentic and written so well that the hard truth is easy to swallow. If you’re looking for proof that the punk spirit still lives, you’ve found it."
—Dan Denton, author of The Dead and The Desperate and others
Thursday, August 28, 2025
Tuesday, August 26, 2025
Monday, August 25, 2025
Sunday, August 24, 2025
Saturday, August 23, 2025
Friday, August 22, 2025
Wednesday, August 20, 2025
Tuesday, August 19, 2025
Sunday, August 17, 2025
Wednesday, August 13, 2025
Tuesday, August 12, 2025
Sunday, August 10, 2025
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Thursday, August 7, 2025
Wednesday, August 6, 2025
Tuesday, August 5, 2025
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Friday, August 1, 2025
Thursday, July 31, 2025
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Thursday, July 10, 2025
Wednesday, July 9, 2025
Tuesday, July 8, 2025
Monday, July 7, 2025
Sunday, July 6, 2025
Saturday, July 5, 2025
Friday, July 4, 2025
Thursday, July 3, 2025
Wednesday, July 2, 2025
Paris Will Have To Wait
They say Paris 2025 ain't quite as pretty as Paris 1935.
I guess I'll take their word for it.
Tuesday, July 1, 2025
Monday, June 30, 2025
Sunday, June 29, 2025
Saturday, June 28, 2025
Friday, June 27, 2025
Thursday, June 26, 2025
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Thursday, June 19, 2025
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Tuesday, June 10, 2025
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Thursday, June 5, 2025
Tuesday, June 3, 2025
Sunday, June 1, 2025
Saturday, May 31, 2025
Friday, May 30, 2025
Thursday, May 29, 2025
Wednesday, May 28, 2025
Tuesday, May 27, 2025
Writing Again
I'm writing again. Mostly I'm obsessed with music. But it feels good to write again. I have a Big Chief tablet. I've scribbled song lyrics. I know the words but not the melodies. I've got Venus conjunct Neptune in Aquarius with my Scorpio son. We have been bonding over music since he was a baby. Before that, actually. I played music and sang for both of my babies as they grew in my womb in 1996 and 2007.
