December 27, 2007 - Thursday
if
if you'd never have died
I'd never have…
divorced
taken a lover;
known the depths at which mercury
ignites
written a single poetic utterance
because
there never would have been
a reason
to break
or
to heal
December 24, 2007 - Monday
the weight of a man
sometimes her lover comes to her
in silence
reaching slow soft
a cold hand across cool linen
toward the too warm flesh
of her thigh
of her buttock
she has been sleeping
between his message
and his arrival
responds with her face
to the pillow
back arching
cooing as she turns into him
he's devouring her
mouth her
flesh her heart
and no matter how they love
to suck and tease
go down
she's wet slow enveloped
crushed
beneath his weight
as he's suddenly in her deep
with hope
it was Christmas
and she
was anywhere between seven and ten
the world
was a heavy weight back then
the floor of the garage was cold
but she was skilled at
Don't Touch the Floor
bottom step
and a leap to the dryer
landing heavy on elbows
and gut
nearly knocking her teeth out
and the next breathe
coming slow
the washer
the ladder
the dark attic
bare bulb
and the fear of spiders
yards of pink asbestos
and a thin plywood
path to creep along.
she was determined
didn't understand
the world would always win
Christmas and holidays
faded when she
the third child came along
and no one really mentioned it
the tree
that year
but that girl
looked upon it
brightly
with hope
December 23, 2007 - Sunday
a thing larger than you
sometimes
a thing is larger than you
your intent
your desire
your control
it is a thing of madness
and flesh between teeth
and it will have its way
and you will live
with a pained heart
to have it.
December 20, 2007 - Thursday
brightly
her thoughts flitter in
and of the sun
brightly
December 17, 2007 - Monday
obliesque
Thought I saw you in the crowd.
You were
heavier
happier,
cheering me on.
But it wasn't you.
I thought for sure you would have
messaged;
we had been talking so often of late.
then I realized the last few weeks
you weren't there.
Twenty years and it took me
sixteen to actualize
that you weren't there
and now I never notice.
It's only natural
that you didn't message
though,
because
neither did he.
December 14, 2007 - Friday
mes amis, mon coeur
lend my sorrow to the pen
for joy
entrust I, heartfelt, to friends.
December 12, 2007 - Wednesday
come too soon
and the music filled her mind
as if it were years before
her hearing started slipping
and she wept
the entirety of the song
then put the thing away
afraid she would lose it all
too soon
some things come too soon
time saw me to where I am and will see me further
I rarely speak of some things
they were overcome long ago
and have become my story –
a liturgy of past emotions that
no longer can be recalled;
I was an at risk youth, but
as my father's father said
"you know where
you can find sympathy?
in the dictionary
between shit and syphilis"
I am also perseverant
so a fifth year in high school,
(diploma, not GED)
sixteen years married
four divorced
seventeen off and on in college
twenty-two earning a wage
busting my ass for the man and bills;
time saw me to where I am
and will see me further.
December 9, 2007 - Sunday
in this limbo
pressing hard
shoulder to door
she lifts the drill
most screws come away
easy
some not at all.
but there's the hammer
daddy bought
last time he came home
and the chisel;
he shopped for her
got her ready –
painted ceilings, set tile
– ready to sell that life.
but this is another
not quite home
but good – for now.
she pulls the pins
wonders how
stripped screws
will come loose later –
she'll wonder later.
the doors
they lift away easy
to her surprise
so heavy –
everything is heavy here
– walks them out.
looks at the walls
floor, ceiling
cracks
everything that will keep
her busy
in this limbo.
December 7, 2007 - Friday
of the sun in half light
there comes
a time
of day
when she draws
the shades
tight
warmed
by the glow
of the sun in half light
she dreams
of the weight
of a man
pinning her
down
sets a picture – left
video – right
and moans
even when she comes
alone
December 6, 2007 - Thursday
on leaving a lover
on the last count
of a deep exhalation
when the exhalation
can go no further
you pause
far too long
next breathe in
and on the out
come the tears
you let go.
December 4, 2007 - Tuesday
clarification of non-rhetorical questions posed to a friend
I want to know how you're doing
and wonder...
how mercury fares of late?
and want to ask if you are living
without passion
and if so...how could you?
(in almost accusatory haste
and nose turned up, distaste
but more in abject observance
I entreat sincere.)
it seems
to be your very nature,
much as it is mine…
December 2, 2007 - Sunday
without love
time
I became
what you thought me –
harden my heart
shore my body;
keep
my sites on school
energies
the magazine
the kiddies who
can't spell
and writing
and editing
home repair
my life is so full
as is
yours –
useless : wasted
without love.
December 1, 2007 - Saturday
December of my heart
breathing deep
sweet damp;
cloying incense I bought
because it's called Rain
and smells like clean
laundry and
wood smoke
the day is gray and deep
flora greens
and browns, fauna
as they burrow, dig
My Lady Cardinal
braving for seed
along the creek bed I gaze
yellow speckled
haze
cheeks flushed
of fever
of up too late
and sleeping
too long and restless
writing, murmurs
but it is December
of my heart
sore and seeking
forgiveness for loving
where I do.
November 28, 2007 - Wednesday
celtic lear
oh take me back
when our love
in the night
came through to morning
and we lay
limb and limb
stretched 'cross the sea
oh my love
I truly know
what dreams are made of
and I want
them for you
though sweetly tear they
my heart from head
yes I know
what dreams are made of
for I once hoped
they were made of
you and me.
came the way on a breeze once
girl from Texas
came the way
on a breeze once
steel-bore not hollow
and she asked a man
for a lift, said
"hey man, got dollar?"
gave him twenty
then set to walkin'
mind a wonderin'
November 27, 2007 - Tuesday
snow fell
snow fell
by the wayside
in the gutters
off the highway
on treetops
up the mountains
and I in a haze
for days, existing
forgetting
Dad's emphysema
my anaphylaxis;
the calm
of the slowing
of the breathing
of the beating
of the heart
chill winds
and my lover
leaving soon.
November 23, 2007 - Friday
she’s a leaver
she's a leaver
no, not again
fought too long
in solitaire
she came strong
will never fight
for you to stay…
mind off in circles
she'll confound
when she bothers
to come round.
it's just her heart
it has a wall
ten or twenty
fourscore feet tall
she's just a giver
wants the same
makes her a leaver
November 21, 2007 - Wednesday
untitled
sometimes
a girl just...
November 18, 2007 - Sunday
where moths dream of dying
Someone told me today
that moths are drawn past the flame
toward the absence of light.
I only know that I am cold.
November 17, 2007 - Saturday
another little ditty
all of life should be
a tease...and days
lived in passion felt
if not actualized.
November 14, 2007 - Wednesday
not that i’m a daddy’s girl - repost
Saturday, May 26, 2007
not that i'm a daddy's girl
Remembering my first car
a '78 Audi Fox, standard;
that was before 5 gears
and before power steering;
the timing began to slip
early on and my Daddy
showed me how to set it.
I miss my Daddy,
trailing behind him Saturdays
like a pup in need of petting.
He taught me my independence
I got them through his genes.
Not that I'm a daddy's girl
but I am my father's daughter –
strong or at least perseverant.
November 11, 2007 - Sunday
and i having let him
we lay a tangle in the night breeze
my lover and I,
ear pressed close to his heart
and he spoke soft
of news, big news
in six months he would go
a different city, different state
he was restless, had been.
are you crying, he asked me.
yes
oh, he says, having finished
his cigarette and pulling me close
I want you to go
but I will miss you.
this time, I did not ask him to stay
never had he asked me to go
he doesn't know what he wants
he loves me, but…
this man, the one
who broke my heart with bliss
for hours, months
and I having let him.
be your bliss
sometimes we look for a thing
to force an issue undisclosed.
I had one once, he was bliss
and I knew I could not keep him.
tonight I wear my boots
must be fifteen years old by now.
but they remind me I can stomp
on things before they stomp on me.
that I have the grace not to
and the compassion in my heart
to lean close and listen, be your bliss
and turn away soft when you go.
November 8, 2007 - Thursday
lend you solace surely
sing to me your song
bring to me your need
smooth your brow will I
lend you solace surely
for all my life is fluid
and blessed, be it brief
or long with your sighs.
November 6, 2007 - Tuesday
for me it was summer
for me it was summer, June
and I had recently resigned myself
to a life in a two-ringed prison
I thought I could step outside
my head and then carry on.
but it was the heat of summer
the death of my brother
had brought things to light.
and my own desire as much
as the attraction was more
than I could sanely bear.
at what point is fidelity breached?
intercourse, touch, nudity, a kiss
conversation, conscious thought.
I cannot say for you, but
for me it was summer, June…
and I had recently resigned myself
to a life in a two-ringed prison
November 3, 2007 - Saturday
days of other seasons brief
Along the way
home I saw not
a slow fade
into sepia…
but tops of trees
in sienna's bleed
and sprigs
of gold canaried
leaves along
the path…
Texas, my Texas,
I do revel
in your passion's
deep heat, summer
yet on occasion
you do thrill me
with days
of other seasons brief
of (spring) and fall
but of a pleasure
recalled fondly
on the morrow
of winter's cold damp.
October 30, 2007 - Tuesday
some less than four
it's a strange thing – the
mathematics of attraction;
my intellect rarely piqued
libido less so than more
when I say lovers I wish
one a week one a month,
one a year is nice
but plural can be two
and some less than four,
still, they were lovers,
men I adore(d).
October 29, 2007 - Monday
brightly burning
One day I was fifteen
and the next, middlin thirties
goin' on forty
with a whole lot forgot;
some years draw blanks
the good ones so far
and few between
shadowed in your anger.
Others I can still taste
and smell and touch, cold
those were the hard years,
the scarred ones.
My husband I will call
no other, seeking lovers
brightly burning
stay they brief or stay
they long, they bleed me
days, never forgot for
I am whole again if ever
I was, but I am whole
neither shadowed
nor withholding.
October 26, 2007 - Friday
beneath flesh
sell my soul
for a dollar
though I know
it's just to get by
eat and pay bills
and these trappings
surrounding
suddenly fetter
freedom…
I want to live
in the mouth of madness
swallowed whole
and swim through
your eyes deeply
just wanna walk
barefoot through the fields
and mud and stuff
and lay
beneath flesh
cool yet warmed
I know this life will kill me
but I will treat it
like whore.
October 25, 2007 - Thursday
crazy come along
she walks a little to the left
sometimes making
lemon squares
half confused
half the time
but makes do
all that she wants
she wants
in crescendo
ooooooh
crazy (all night) lover
come along
give her hours of madness
to dream about
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
backlog
October 23, 2007 - Tuesday
speachless in the face of madness
speachless in the face of madness
she keeps searching for a song
a phrase to encapsulate...
this thing where her own words fall short
October 20, 2007 - Saturday
Valhalla seeks Ragnorok near the sea
Of a chivalric nature, one slim hand goes to the Vorpal blade sitting low on her hip. She is ready for the snicker-snack.
"Ragnorok!" she attempts to bellow but belays a soft, sweet voice that warms his soon November heart. The land shivers at her promise.
And Ragnorok is struck by the fire about her very being, the shimmer of a once thought dead craving. Too long has he dwelt in the construct and confines of man, tamed, broken.
"She will slay me," he whispers "she will have me as she wills."
Valhalla stands firm on the little hill left when the moat was dug and looks past his walls, out to sea and in deep consternation. Turns quick back to him.
"Ragnorok!" I will free you.
October 18, 2007 - Thursday
the Zipper
Couple years ago at Oktoberfest we were all supposed to meet up but I couldn't find my friends. The celly-thing wasn't getting reception; no call in, no call out, no messages.
Resourceful blonde-gone-red chick that I am, I proceed to find beer and sausage – on a stick. For those of you that don't know, half a beer makes me tipsy. So roughly two and half beers in a commemorative glass mug…and I was entertainment for those passing by. You'd think they'd never seen a drunk chick trying to get a 12-inch sausage in her mouth.
Now I looooooooooooooooove me some carnie rides, so what does any self respected drunk do?
AWAY, BATMAN!
The Zipper…dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…
Carnies don't always have the Zipper and it's my favorite ride. (Shut up you guys…) so I was almost pee-in-my-pants happy.
Alone
in the middle of the basket
hanging on to both sides
whoopin' and a hollerin'
and I look over as always
and find
holes where screws go.
I swear there's only one Zipper
in the whole goddamn world…
whoooooooooooooooh!
yeeeeeeeeeeeee-hawwwwwww
come on babyyyyyyyy
and I was laughin' wild
until dizzy, the basket opened and
and the carnie fella says
"wanna go again?"
and I says "hells yeah!"
and in steps a boy…
his friends just in from Monterey
don't ride rides, he says,
and flips his wrist…
so Migeulito and I rode rides
all night, laughed, drunk…
and the Zipper?
May my life always be
that wild ride.
spacecadet log - stardate gazillion-01
pressure in main cabin is nominal. patched a hole with trident and duct tape. seems to be holding. note to self; watermelon works best.
the days are blurring. sleep patterns are off. bored with porn. must be a flu. Feisty Boy Elektra Two; The Fu Manchu Series is sick as well. his scales are gray.
four years since evolving. still in bright shiny limbo. wants the bright shiny.
tomorrow experimenting with paste. minty.
she awakes at four a.m.
four a.m. again
there's grit in her eyes and
she feels like a one night stand
like she's been one
not like she needs one
only that doesn't make sense
and she wonders
if the neighbor's smoking pot again
and if it's pulled through the A/C
her mind came away
last week
into a warm soft thrill
snapped her nose right off
the grind
it left her dazed
it's sudden absence
leaves her dazed
she awakes at four a.m.
wondering
why did she go there…
speachless in the face of madness
speachless in the face of madness
she keeps searching for a song
a phrase to encapsulate...
this thing where her own words fall short
October 20, 2007 - Saturday
Valhalla seeks Ragnorok near the sea
Of a chivalric nature, one slim hand goes to the Vorpal blade sitting low on her hip. She is ready for the snicker-snack.
"Ragnorok!" she attempts to bellow but belays a soft, sweet voice that warms his soon November heart. The land shivers at her promise.
And Ragnorok is struck by the fire about her very being, the shimmer of a once thought dead craving. Too long has he dwelt in the construct and confines of man, tamed, broken.
"She will slay me," he whispers "she will have me as she wills."
Valhalla stands firm on the little hill left when the moat was dug and looks past his walls, out to sea and in deep consternation. Turns quick back to him.
"Ragnorok!" I will free you.
October 18, 2007 - Thursday
the Zipper
Couple years ago at Oktoberfest we were all supposed to meet up but I couldn't find my friends. The celly-thing wasn't getting reception; no call in, no call out, no messages.
Resourceful blonde-gone-red chick that I am, I proceed to find beer and sausage – on a stick. For those of you that don't know, half a beer makes me tipsy. So roughly two and half beers in a commemorative glass mug…and I was entertainment for those passing by. You'd think they'd never seen a drunk chick trying to get a 12-inch sausage in her mouth.
Now I looooooooooooooooove me some carnie rides, so what does any self respected drunk do?
AWAY, BATMAN!
The Zipper…dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…
Carnies don't always have the Zipper and it's my favorite ride. (Shut up you guys…) so I was almost pee-in-my-pants happy.
Alone
in the middle of the basket
hanging on to both sides
whoopin' and a hollerin'
and I look over as always
and find
holes where screws go.
I swear there's only one Zipper
in the whole goddamn world…
whoooooooooooooooh!
yeeeeeeeeeeeee-hawwwwwww
come on babyyyyyyyy
and I was laughin' wild
until dizzy, the basket opened and
and the carnie fella says
"wanna go again?"
and I says "hells yeah!"
and in steps a boy…
his friends just in from Monterey
don't ride rides, he says,
and flips his wrist…
so Migeulito and I rode rides
all night, laughed, drunk…
and the Zipper?
May my life always be
that wild ride.
spacecadet log - stardate gazillion-01
pressure in main cabin is nominal. patched a hole with trident and duct tape. seems to be holding. note to self; watermelon works best.
the days are blurring. sleep patterns are off. bored with porn. must be a flu. Feisty Boy Elektra Two; The Fu Manchu Series is sick as well. his scales are gray.
four years since evolving. still in bright shiny limbo. wants the bright shiny.
tomorrow experimenting with paste. minty.
she awakes at four a.m.
four a.m. again
there's grit in her eyes and
she feels like a one night stand
like she's been one
not like she needs one
only that doesn't make sense
and she wonders
if the neighbor's smoking pot again
and if it's pulled through the A/C
her mind came away
last week
into a warm soft thrill
snapped her nose right off
the grind
it left her dazed
it's sudden absence
leaves her dazed
she awakes at four a.m.
wondering
why did she go there…
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
it's called crush cause it hurts
she don’t smoke
she don't smoke
but the quite faint scent
of cigarettes and herb
on a man's collar
on his cheek
on his flesh
drives her mad
October 16, 2007 - Tuesday
clinging wet to my calf
water pressure billows
the curtain in
clinging wet to my calf
and I am out of soap
use the tea tree
that sucks the moisture
from my body
but I am a writer now
making things last,
worry, no insurance
and getting by.
in conversation
with my father
he offered to send money
I said let's see, wait
till I get there
and he said aw baby…
he muffles a cough
I muffle a weep
daddy…
all this time
and he never said
he needed a daughter
I never asked
for a father
all those years
but they got me here
here, I am here
now.
what she wants
is this the point where she waits
lets him call?
only brief came the thought
wild heart
beating
off
she forgets
and picks up to dial
she may not know what she wants
but wants to get it
October 15, 2007 - Monday
she takes lovers
My first bit of advice on ending
a marriage poorly; don't. But
sometimes the world skews,
the subconscious knows…
She was
thirty-three.
married sixteen years,
to a man stood third in a short line.
She was not new to men
She was new to herself.
He was,
one tall drink of water,
her first lover,
always ready
six steps before they touched
and swallowed her whole.
October 14, 2007 - Sunday
starlight accross oceans
never let your chi go
your power
never to another
it cheats you both
and death comes too easy
to waste a day.
I have set with death
watched his eyes wide
pleading, accusing,
and he may chase me
through fields of flame
and he may catch me
but not before I trail-
blaze starlight
accross oceans.
the rate at which things burn
four-twenty a.m.
woke up groggy
sometimes admitting to a thing
makes it okay
and this was just
light
laughter.
and suddenly
I am
splintered
sometimes acting on a thing
gets it out of your system
or spurs
an addiction
maybe
I just like
to test
the tensile strength of flesh
to know
the rate at which things burn
and
break
October 12, 2007 - Friday
the will to hold it/was
we burned in fire
that was bright white
but splinter in the limbo
in the distance
in the separation
that feeds you
be assured, it is not the
love that fades
but the will to hold it
to hold you, and the need
my body was made
for man, my heart
for love, my soul to give
my being to consume.
perdu
sometimes, I think
in soft soliloquy
and bad snippets
of French and Japanese;
it is not so much
the word's form as
the specific syllabic
utterance, quand
je suis perdu,
but not that, I meant
to say tread soft
and with deliberation
or tread not at all.
October 9, 2007 - Tuesday
we left things undone
I am suddenly haunted by the past
things left half said
panties drenched
corsets left half laced
a day when I was a girl, young
of fifteen or sixteen, and
a boy that made me curious
my first taste of
sucking on the tongue of rebellion
he was smug
attitude
a broken wing
shipped off to military school
where are you,
we left things undone…
September 22, 2007 - Saturday
time in me
please come, O Yule,
my Januare to sooth,
renew me in faith
this life no longer
spent in recourse
but burst forth will I
on the tundra, plains
and cities in quest;
soon my life soon
will it stretch lean
and languid, soft
of a brave new peace
invest time in me.
September 19, 2007 - Wednesday
the greater power
sweetly you beg
me not to cry
and I am lost in the moment
lost to the world
lost in you
you control the staying
I the leaving
perhaps I weep
for possession
of the greater power
as well as in want of you
life was easier
when I could walk away
without regret
and didn't stay
she don't smoke
but the quite faint scent
of cigarettes and herb
on a man's collar
on his cheek
on his flesh
drives her mad
October 16, 2007 - Tuesday
clinging wet to my calf
water pressure billows
the curtain in
clinging wet to my calf
and I am out of soap
use the tea tree
that sucks the moisture
from my body
but I am a writer now
making things last,
worry, no insurance
and getting by.
in conversation
with my father
he offered to send money
I said let's see, wait
till I get there
and he said aw baby…
he muffles a cough
I muffle a weep
daddy…
all this time
and he never said
he needed a daughter
I never asked
for a father
all those years
but they got me here
here, I am here
now.
what she wants
is this the point where she waits
lets him call?
only brief came the thought
wild heart
beating
off
she forgets
and picks up to dial
she may not know what she wants
but wants to get it
October 15, 2007 - Monday
she takes lovers
My first bit of advice on ending
a marriage poorly; don't. But
sometimes the world skews,
the subconscious knows…
She was
thirty-three.
married sixteen years,
to a man stood third in a short line.
She was not new to men
She was new to herself.
He was,
one tall drink of water,
her first lover,
always ready
six steps before they touched
and swallowed her whole.
October 14, 2007 - Sunday
starlight accross oceans
never let your chi go
your power
never to another
it cheats you both
and death comes too easy
to waste a day.
I have set with death
watched his eyes wide
pleading, accusing,
and he may chase me
through fields of flame
and he may catch me
but not before I trail-
blaze starlight
accross oceans.
the rate at which things burn
four-twenty a.m.
woke up groggy
sometimes admitting to a thing
makes it okay
and this was just
light
laughter.
and suddenly
I am
splintered
sometimes acting on a thing
gets it out of your system
or spurs
an addiction
maybe
I just like
to test
the tensile strength of flesh
to know
the rate at which things burn
and
break
October 12, 2007 - Friday
the will to hold it/was
we burned in fire
that was bright white
but splinter in the limbo
in the distance
in the separation
that feeds you
be assured, it is not the
love that fades
but the will to hold it
to hold you, and the need
my body was made
for man, my heart
for love, my soul to give
my being to consume.
perdu
sometimes, I think
in soft soliloquy
and bad snippets
of French and Japanese;
it is not so much
the word's form as
the specific syllabic
utterance, quand
je suis perdu,
but not that, I meant
to say tread soft
and with deliberation
or tread not at all.
October 9, 2007 - Tuesday
we left things undone
I am suddenly haunted by the past
things left half said
panties drenched
corsets left half laced
a day when I was a girl, young
of fifteen or sixteen, and
a boy that made me curious
my first taste of
sucking on the tongue of rebellion
he was smug
attitude
a broken wing
shipped off to military school
where are you,
we left things undone…
September 22, 2007 - Saturday
time in me
please come, O Yule,
my Januare to sooth,
renew me in faith
this life no longer
spent in recourse
but burst forth will I
on the tundra, plains
and cities in quest;
soon my life soon
will it stretch lean
and languid, soft
of a brave new peace
invest time in me.
September 19, 2007 - Wednesday
the greater power
sweetly you beg
me not to cry
and I am lost in the moment
lost to the world
lost in you
you control the staying
I the leaving
perhaps I weep
for possession
of the greater power
as well as in want of you
life was easier
when I could walk away
without regret
and didn't stay
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
just a girl
faith comes
hard on the heels
of distance
and she
is just a girl
after all
with a little
heart sore
and a thirst
for more
to this moment
In all my life never
did I want, allow need
yet at that first gaze
I would have you.
You, the final catalyst
to break my core/soul,
spark the fire aglow
throw my vows to hell,
to my becoming;
bright eyes and wild
you gasped like a child
in wonder at my mouth
devouring
and I high
on the thrill of finally being
desired
wanted
wanton
free.
Funny how the years
pass and I recall...
you, my lover once
upon a time that led me
to this moment
and to another.
September 7, 2007 - Friday
soured on a life
my husband
remember how we dreamt
dreams
of the land and the sea
no purpose save to live
those dreams
come again
on the tips of a tongue
soured on a life
that would break me
if I were not so
goddamn ornery
and hell-bent
September 6, 2007 - Thursday
look upon bright
fleet of foot
and slight of mind
oh flee thee
never-boy of summer
take this heart
a weary
to the shore
and cast it's ash
to wind;
breathe my bones
let them lodge
in lung, dust
forgive my need
come to me
ever is the silence
frightening
on the morrow
deafening
do I ponder
yet look upon bright
journeyman
this life, oh
it been a long time
coming
and I will walk the valleys
and I will tread the shore
and I will swim the rivers
in search of
transcendence
Valhalla
ever more
ever more…
once we were young
once we were young
my sister
brother
and I
before drugs
before death
divorce and dreams
torn asunder
yet never were there bonds
strong enough
to keep us alive
to ever see us healthy
in the care of one another;
what great expense
life and soul
and how very long
it takes to mend
September 4, 2007 - Tuesday
manna from God
Gonna be one of those years
when food is made for the week
and tea bags get used twice
when chicory instead of coffee
is relished as frivolity
consumed as a food group
and breakfast is a fist full
of vitamins and cheap carbs.
These are lean days in Texas
in the south, in America
when getting by on a dime
is our most frequent dream
and our debt, manna from God.
some things don’t get said aloud
some things
don't get
said aloud
don't get
articulated
are never
written down
but they
are in my heart
on my mind
on my conscience
August 30, 2007 - Thursday
on my writing
sometimes they are not words with meanings, only the syllabic utterance of a string sounds, an affectation of the heart
August 30, 2007 - Thursday
love song for t.c...breathless
crazy-wet
for a boy the taste
of freedom made of lightness
and deep caress that blushes
her bright smooth peach
and leaves her
breathless
August 21, 2007 - Tuesday
i am consumed
I reach for stars
fill my days with it
seek to devour dreams
to exhaustion - okay
that, my friends, beer;
but I hope you know
you are my everything,
you are my love, my
passion, the swelling
of my heart midst
blushed twilight.
August 19, 2007 - Sunday
to know me is to always
I walked the hall one time
about the rooms pacing
head hung low, tilting back
and forth , hand on nape;
love and grief it creeps
through cracks it seeps
and I am far away oft
to the future where I will
never hurt you, the past
where he pleads for life.
My love for you reminds
me of my grief for him;
neither will I ever let go,
both, my life have altered.
To know me is to always
let me hold him, grief
a glistening in my heart
and joy for you ever
on the tip of my tongue.
August 17, 2007 - Friday
but as such, he is free
The old guy asleep in the grass?
I thought about dignity and
how the world once was
what we've become; I cried
not quite mighty, more
in the way of suadade; things
mourned though never realized.
Vagabond he may be,
but as such, he is free.
It rained later that night
brief but fierce.
I wondered if I should
walk the bank, scout the creek
but much like mother and
her fading away
do I really want to know?
August 16, 2007 - Thursday
what we’ve become
There's an old guy asleep in the grass
and I am at once both afraid and ashamed;
my sense of security weighing hard
against concern and charity.
I question my decision to move here.
My decision and yet to admit
I am not infallible, never claimed to be.
My strength and sense of responsibility
derived more from the need to persevere
than any sense of leadership; I cry,
not from lack of knowing what to do
but more for this day and age
that places me in this dilemma
I return to a time and place
when I was barely four and wept
perhaps some seed from past living;
wept for the downfall of man
though I had not words then
now perhaps I can finally claim
I cry for what we've become.
Strange that I was reading Rumi today,
"People of the world don't look
at themselves, and so
they blame one another."
I blame no one, I just cry,
not sure what to do.
July 25, 2007 - Wednesday
shameless my lust for you
this morn I dressed
with care; black lace
under a black dress
I had pulled from the back
of barely worn things
slim, deep-cut, snug –
provocative – I cooed
and purred along the way
the image of you in my bed
provoking me to shout
silent, glow smug
all day simpering soft
for anyone and everyone
to know I came away satiated
it was near four
when your plea came
do you know
I adore the way you ask
demand – and I never
saying nay, embracing
shameless my lust for you
we slept little till the alarm
I deep though brief;
you reaching out
in half slumber
to grasp my sex
in your hand madly
getting me off then
a slow fade to slumber
drousily still aroused
I turned to spoon you
pushed up on feathered air
arms devouring you,
lean, tan, young
my mouth relished
your nape, your collar
that valley 'tween
shoulders I so covet,
until you turned on me
hard, demanding
and I took you, let you
July 24, 2007 - Tuesday
what once was darkness, now bright laughter
one
way I suppose would be to
refuse to acknowledge the thing
let it grow restless and move away
this from
a Japanese flick I thought profound,
called "life taste good"
notice the odd vernacular
another,
way of dealing is that
once I find the source
I can manage it
this from one of the
things I seek to understand
he is beautiful, bright, and distant
in his unsurity
notice…I make up words when
I can think of no other to suit
more likely,
I will ponder the issue
think of all options open to me
beat it to a bloody pulp
and own it
or as slang goes, p-owned
(I still don't think I quite get this
but the accompanied pictures
always make me laugh)
this from me
from inside what once
was darkness, now bright
laughter.
notice how my last thought
came unstructured
the order askew
or did you notice
was it really that off
and is it all in my head anyway
July 23, 2007 - Monday
my hours with things
I fill my days, my weeks
my hours with things
to do and thoughts of you
I am becoming
accomplished.
In your distance I gaze
wistful for what was
mouth a stir for flesh
heart sick for words
but feel my attentions
my utter truths
cloying and clinging –
I do not like this feeling
and must retire from it.
I am not gone
nor want to be
I am of course yours
as ever I was
as ever I am or will
but if your freedom
is good part my adoration
so be it truth that you are here
as much as ever you will be
if so you decide...
if you so decide
but damn
you are a stubborn beast
and I no longer master
of my heart but slave
seeking to control the bleed.
mommy dearest
Mother hasn't stalked me
in over a fortnight four.
Should I worry there's a body
to which I will need to tend
and burry? Should I give her
what she was after all along:
someone to take care of her
regardless of her greed?
July 23, 2007 - Monday
the absence of breath
living;
is it the high-lows
or the absence of breath?
Surely to which, the other
is the surviving...
July 16, 2007 - Monday
energy from air
Having lost the argument
with the man of science
as I sometimes must,
I now emerge
from a drugged out stupor
still pink-cheeked, fevered
and drawing energy from air;
face toward the burning sun
inner peace profound
I cannot be swayed
from my course
not now that I am found.
Yet still there is a quiet
where sadness weeps;
she is my soul a wander
an ache of hunger, thirst
and need that echoes
off the coming silence,
on deaf ears her pity pleas.
faith comes
hard on the heels
of distance
and she
is just a girl
after all
with a little
heart sore
and a thirst
for more
to this moment
In all my life never
did I want, allow need
yet at that first gaze
I would have you.
You, the final catalyst
to break my core/soul,
spark the fire aglow
throw my vows to hell,
to my becoming;
bright eyes and wild
you gasped like a child
in wonder at my mouth
devouring
and I high
on the thrill of finally being
desired
wanted
wanton
free.
Funny how the years
pass and I recall...
you, my lover once
upon a time that led me
to this moment
and to another.
September 7, 2007 - Friday
soured on a life
my husband
remember how we dreamt
dreams
of the land and the sea
no purpose save to live
those dreams
come again
on the tips of a tongue
soured on a life
that would break me
if I were not so
goddamn ornery
and hell-bent
September 6, 2007 - Thursday
look upon bright
fleet of foot
and slight of mind
oh flee thee
never-boy of summer
take this heart
a weary
to the shore
and cast it's ash
to wind;
breathe my bones
let them lodge
in lung, dust
forgive my need
come to me
ever is the silence
frightening
on the morrow
deafening
do I ponder
yet look upon bright
journeyman
this life, oh
it been a long time
coming
and I will walk the valleys
and I will tread the shore
and I will swim the rivers
in search of
transcendence
Valhalla
ever more
ever more…
once we were young
once we were young
my sister
brother
and I
before drugs
before death
divorce and dreams
torn asunder
yet never were there bonds
strong enough
to keep us alive
to ever see us healthy
in the care of one another;
what great expense
life and soul
and how very long
it takes to mend
September 4, 2007 - Tuesday
manna from God
Gonna be one of those years
when food is made for the week
and tea bags get used twice
when chicory instead of coffee
is relished as frivolity
consumed as a food group
and breakfast is a fist full
of vitamins and cheap carbs.
These are lean days in Texas
in the south, in America
when getting by on a dime
is our most frequent dream
and our debt, manna from God.
some things don’t get said aloud
some things
don't get
said aloud
don't get
articulated
are never
written down
but they
are in my heart
on my mind
on my conscience
August 30, 2007 - Thursday
on my writing
sometimes they are not words with meanings, only the syllabic utterance of a string sounds, an affectation of the heart
August 30, 2007 - Thursday
love song for t.c...breathless
crazy-wet
for a boy the taste
of freedom made of lightness
and deep caress that blushes
her bright smooth peach
and leaves her
breathless
August 21, 2007 - Tuesday
i am consumed
I reach for stars
fill my days with it
seek to devour dreams
to exhaustion - okay
that, my friends, beer;
but I hope you know
you are my everything,
you are my love, my
passion, the swelling
of my heart midst
blushed twilight.
August 19, 2007 - Sunday
to know me is to always
I walked the hall one time
about the rooms pacing
head hung low, tilting back
and forth , hand on nape;
love and grief it creeps
through cracks it seeps
and I am far away oft
to the future where I will
never hurt you, the past
where he pleads for life.
My love for you reminds
me of my grief for him;
neither will I ever let go,
both, my life have altered.
To know me is to always
let me hold him, grief
a glistening in my heart
and joy for you ever
on the tip of my tongue.
August 17, 2007 - Friday
but as such, he is free
The old guy asleep in the grass?
I thought about dignity and
how the world once was
what we've become; I cried
not quite mighty, more
in the way of suadade; things
mourned though never realized.
Vagabond he may be,
but as such, he is free.
It rained later that night
brief but fierce.
I wondered if I should
walk the bank, scout the creek
but much like mother and
her fading away
do I really want to know?
August 16, 2007 - Thursday
what we’ve become
There's an old guy asleep in the grass
and I am at once both afraid and ashamed;
my sense of security weighing hard
against concern and charity.
I question my decision to move here.
My decision and yet to admit
I am not infallible, never claimed to be.
My strength and sense of responsibility
derived more from the need to persevere
than any sense of leadership; I cry,
not from lack of knowing what to do
but more for this day and age
that places me in this dilemma
I return to a time and place
when I was barely four and wept
perhaps some seed from past living;
wept for the downfall of man
though I had not words then
now perhaps I can finally claim
I cry for what we've become.
Strange that I was reading Rumi today,
"People of the world don't look
at themselves, and so
they blame one another."
I blame no one, I just cry,
not sure what to do.
July 25, 2007 - Wednesday
shameless my lust for you
this morn I dressed
with care; black lace
under a black dress
I had pulled from the back
of barely worn things
slim, deep-cut, snug –
provocative – I cooed
and purred along the way
the image of you in my bed
provoking me to shout
silent, glow smug
all day simpering soft
for anyone and everyone
to know I came away satiated
it was near four
when your plea came
do you know
I adore the way you ask
demand – and I never
saying nay, embracing
shameless my lust for you
we slept little till the alarm
I deep though brief;
you reaching out
in half slumber
to grasp my sex
in your hand madly
getting me off then
a slow fade to slumber
drousily still aroused
I turned to spoon you
pushed up on feathered air
arms devouring you,
lean, tan, young
my mouth relished
your nape, your collar
that valley 'tween
shoulders I so covet,
until you turned on me
hard, demanding
and I took you, let you
July 24, 2007 - Tuesday
what once was darkness, now bright laughter
one
way I suppose would be to
refuse to acknowledge the thing
let it grow restless and move away
this from
a Japanese flick I thought profound,
called "life taste good"
notice the odd vernacular
another,
way of dealing is that
once I find the source
I can manage it
this from one of the
things I seek to understand
he is beautiful, bright, and distant
in his unsurity
notice…I make up words when
I can think of no other to suit
more likely,
I will ponder the issue
think of all options open to me
beat it to a bloody pulp
and own it
or as slang goes, p-owned
(I still don't think I quite get this
but the accompanied pictures
always make me laugh)
this from me
from inside what once
was darkness, now bright
laughter.
notice how my last thought
came unstructured
the order askew
or did you notice
was it really that off
and is it all in my head anyway
July 23, 2007 - Monday
my hours with things
I fill my days, my weeks
my hours with things
to do and thoughts of you
I am becoming
accomplished.
In your distance I gaze
wistful for what was
mouth a stir for flesh
heart sick for words
but feel my attentions
my utter truths
cloying and clinging –
I do not like this feeling
and must retire from it.
I am not gone
nor want to be
I am of course yours
as ever I was
as ever I am or will
but if your freedom
is good part my adoration
so be it truth that you are here
as much as ever you will be
if so you decide...
if you so decide
but damn
you are a stubborn beast
and I no longer master
of my heart but slave
seeking to control the bleed.
mommy dearest
Mother hasn't stalked me
in over a fortnight four.
Should I worry there's a body
to which I will need to tend
and burry? Should I give her
what she was after all along:
someone to take care of her
regardless of her greed?
July 23, 2007 - Monday
the absence of breath
living;
is it the high-lows
or the absence of breath?
Surely to which, the other
is the surviving...
July 16, 2007 - Monday
energy from air
Having lost the argument
with the man of science
as I sometimes must,
I now emerge
from a drugged out stupor
still pink-cheeked, fevered
and drawing energy from air;
face toward the burning sun
inner peace profound
I cannot be swayed
from my course
not now that I am found.
Yet still there is a quiet
where sadness weeps;
she is my soul a wander
an ache of hunger, thirst
and need that echoes
off the coming silence,
on deaf ears her pity pleas.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
lazy day
sought to define
She always seem to be
a step ahead or day late and a dollar short;
one of those girls
that can lure beautiful men into her bed
though never do they tarry long.
They were only crushings anyway, yet once
upon dream she fell
(those golden boys having spoiled her well)
and twilight mixed
with madness kissed her lips and the sun
became the moon.
For a brief beat she knew,
she stepped in time with the world, bathing
in moonshadowed pools.
Then as always she began
restless in the limbo pacing, thirsting
for the object of her affection, of her desire
and sought to define.
July 11, 2007 - Wednesday
a few bits missing
I admit to distraction
even leaning back
letting my head loll
on the pillow listlessly
my mind takes stock
finds a few bits missing
moves on toward
Shakespeare having
fallen on the floor.
She always seem to be
a step ahead or day late and a dollar short;
one of those girls
that can lure beautiful men into her bed
though never do they tarry long.
They were only crushings anyway, yet once
upon dream she fell
(those golden boys having spoiled her well)
and twilight mixed
with madness kissed her lips and the sun
became the moon.
For a brief beat she knew,
she stepped in time with the world, bathing
in moonshadowed pools.
Then as always she began
restless in the limbo pacing, thirsting
for the object of her affection, of her desire
and sought to define.
July 11, 2007 - Wednesday
a few bits missing
I admit to distraction
even leaning back
letting my head loll
on the pillow listlessly
my mind takes stock
finds a few bits missing
moves on toward
Shakespeare having
fallen on the floor.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
june into july, bipolar days and nights of unrest
July 10, 2007 - Tuesday
safety of the shore
Matt says
surviving is not living
I know this
but it's the one thing I trust;
survival
I also know
not all hearts are the same
and mine dips and sways
wants to soar
but wants
the safety of the shore
July 8, 2007 - Sunday
as well she wants
incongruency of action
and words is the heart
at odds yet she waits
in sweetest sorrow
knowing she can live
without him but knowing
as well she wants to stay.
July 5, 2007 - Thursday
somewhere along the line
I didn't mean to be a poet
much less one of love and death
nor did I set out toward
the bearing of my soul.
I wanted to dream in far off lands
and drink the depths
of blue red oceans sent down
in black blue ink.
somewhere along the line
I learned to feel and think
far more than such a small
tender heart should
somewhere along the line
I learned to weep and mourn
somewhere along the line
I learned to love and to live.
note: yes, "bearing"...
if seemingly i cling
Sometimes the world moves
but I cannot move with it
the silence prevents me
and I mourn the coming days.
I am not always whole. Not
the way your love makes me;
and I fear no other will ever
make me feel the same. So
if seemingly I cling, Love,
forgive and kiss my brow
let the worry from me go.
July 2, 2007 - Monday
where words cannot reach
still
in the quiet blushing
slow
sweet
thrusts
enveloped in your arms
I crawled inside
us a tangle
and found
that place
where words
cannot reach
June 20, 2007 - Wednesday
in the learning
each we come
in time our own
to the reconciliation
of need, want
against should
I can hear you
breathing, articulation
in the learning
and beam bright
smiles lit in eyes
pride, proud am I
to be privy
to the growing of you
exquisite, sublime
oh beauteous
lover mine
in turn I grant
thee glimpse
your own of
my own becoming
for you do foster
my soul searching.
what a strange thing to mourn
despair
makes an odd
wailing
moaning
guttural
exhalation
of silence
it twists the hands
and wraps you in a ball
immobile
on the bathroom floor
eyes staring wide
minutes seeming hours
pass
yet no one
ever comes
to claim you
you rise alone
and suddenly
you're a shell
that weeps
in the car
on the way to work
on the way home
in restaurants
when your only solace
is the strength you muster
your endeavorance
to persevere
then one day you awake
and you've lost
your anger
it is as much gone
as the body you've buried
what a strange thing
to mourn
anger
June 18, 2007 - Monday
shine - a poem for t.c.
distance, I
thought
you had gone
thought
you were going
thought
you didn't want me
sent word that I miss you
and you spoke to me soft
and gentle as is your way
and we did part that eve
a promise
that we have the now
and the now we are taking
for a love like this
though future uncertain
should shine
shine
baby
shine
June 15, 2007 - Friday
began to learn to trust
It was a Sunday
when I smiled
and turned
my face toward the heat
static in my ears
as I sat in the sun
of my southern youth
suit wet and trying to dry
deaf by the water
laughing with friends;
there is a first time
for everything.
Last eve my lover
lay beside me
neither of us sleeping much
for each others body
in the bed
as all night
we lay arms and legs
a tangle
softly spooning
gently touching
tossing turning
fresh from the water
he had smiled with his eyes
heart a sparkle
and mouthed words distinct.
It's been ten months since
he became the first
to tempt me
to water
after far too long
ten months since
I began to learn to trust.
June 14, 2007 - Thursday
red clay and dawn
the white man came
tore my earth, my soul
asunder and since
each life I have walked
lost in their way, spoke
in their tongue, all
the while my soul
beats red clay and dawn
June 14, 2007 - Thursday
the piece i need (the peace)
In the long hours of dawn
where the waking cannot find me
and sandmen tug as I turn neat away
Valhalla lulls me with her languid coo
"rest, my warrior queen, too long
have you held to heart the strength
of nations gone to war
and the women left to weep,
set your burden to drift awhile
in ebb and flow along my shore
let me grace you with my limbo
and tread ye not along the moor."
Ever do I search the way
within and find the piece in need.
June 13, 2007 - Wednesday
she - that girl
close to three a.m. – again.
wasn't it wrote – that time before…
seeming always and again, again
in the dreamscape does he come
mayhap more oft he stays
but on this eve he did go.
early morning on the morrow
but he left her in good spirit
and less lost is she – that girl –
who let her lover steel her heart
June 12, 2007 - Tuesday
at thirty-seven going on twelve
Twelve
why twelve?
cause twelve was a good age
an age of innocence
of body
if not soul
before my menses flow
several years before
my hymen broke
it was an age of push and shove
where games were played
on asphalt and merry-go-rounds
though things with me
never came easy
I was still just a girl
just a girl
and the future was out there
it had not finally come
it had not
finally come
a soul that bleeds
that girl that did
that girl that does
that girl she turned neat
face toward flesh
she seeks
a way to stop
the love
the hurt
he is just a man,
my girl,
they are all
just men
and you?
you were graced
with too large a heart
a soul that bleeds
and the capacity
to give
tease the waking
I
That she could burn so late
through the cold yuletide
worries; what will become
of her in the summer heat?
Do suns burn off then dissipate
or like planets will she make
to the old bone yard seeking fate?
I could not know for she am I,
still, at the fire of yuletide dying
mourning embers' glow
softly fading and in my limbo
do I linger, look about
almost meek, "My god!" I cry
Where is my December!"
II
late into the eve
my southern sun does tease
and in my lulling haze
I brush soft
nipples large
and full and pink,
world about me sighing
it stops but brief allowing
her to think.
safety of the shore
Matt says
surviving is not living
I know this
but it's the one thing I trust;
survival
I also know
not all hearts are the same
and mine dips and sways
wants to soar
but wants
the safety of the shore
July 8, 2007 - Sunday
as well she wants
incongruency of action
and words is the heart
at odds yet she waits
in sweetest sorrow
knowing she can live
without him but knowing
as well she wants to stay.
July 5, 2007 - Thursday
somewhere along the line
I didn't mean to be a poet
much less one of love and death
nor did I set out toward
the bearing of my soul.
I wanted to dream in far off lands
and drink the depths
of blue red oceans sent down
in black blue ink.
somewhere along the line
I learned to feel and think
far more than such a small
tender heart should
somewhere along the line
I learned to weep and mourn
somewhere along the line
I learned to love and to live.
note: yes, "bearing"...
if seemingly i cling
Sometimes the world moves
but I cannot move with it
the silence prevents me
and I mourn the coming days.
I am not always whole. Not
the way your love makes me;
and I fear no other will ever
make me feel the same. So
if seemingly I cling, Love,
forgive and kiss my brow
let the worry from me go.
July 2, 2007 - Monday
where words cannot reach
still
in the quiet blushing
slow
sweet
thrusts
enveloped in your arms
I crawled inside
us a tangle
and found
that place
where words
cannot reach
June 20, 2007 - Wednesday
in the learning
each we come
in time our own
to the reconciliation
of need, want
against should
I can hear you
breathing, articulation
in the learning
and beam bright
smiles lit in eyes
pride, proud am I
to be privy
to the growing of you
exquisite, sublime
oh beauteous
lover mine
in turn I grant
thee glimpse
your own of
my own becoming
for you do foster
my soul searching.
what a strange thing to mourn
despair
makes an odd
wailing
moaning
guttural
exhalation
of silence
it twists the hands
and wraps you in a ball
immobile
on the bathroom floor
eyes staring wide
minutes seeming hours
pass
yet no one
ever comes
to claim you
you rise alone
and suddenly
you're a shell
that weeps
in the car
on the way to work
on the way home
in restaurants
when your only solace
is the strength you muster
your endeavorance
to persevere
then one day you awake
and you've lost
your anger
it is as much gone
as the body you've buried
what a strange thing
to mourn
anger
June 18, 2007 - Monday
shine - a poem for t.c.
distance, I
thought
you had gone
thought
you were going
thought
you didn't want me
sent word that I miss you
and you spoke to me soft
and gentle as is your way
and we did part that eve
a promise
that we have the now
and the now we are taking
for a love like this
though future uncertain
should shine
shine
baby
shine
June 15, 2007 - Friday
began to learn to trust
It was a Sunday
when I smiled
and turned
my face toward the heat
static in my ears
as I sat in the sun
of my southern youth
suit wet and trying to dry
deaf by the water
laughing with friends;
there is a first time
for everything.
Last eve my lover
lay beside me
neither of us sleeping much
for each others body
in the bed
as all night
we lay arms and legs
a tangle
softly spooning
gently touching
tossing turning
fresh from the water
he had smiled with his eyes
heart a sparkle
and mouthed words distinct.
It's been ten months since
he became the first
to tempt me
to water
after far too long
ten months since
I began to learn to trust.
June 14, 2007 - Thursday
red clay and dawn
the white man came
tore my earth, my soul
asunder and since
each life I have walked
lost in their way, spoke
in their tongue, all
the while my soul
beats red clay and dawn
June 14, 2007 - Thursday
the piece i need (the peace)
In the long hours of dawn
where the waking cannot find me
and sandmen tug as I turn neat away
Valhalla lulls me with her languid coo
"rest, my warrior queen, too long
have you held to heart the strength
of nations gone to war
and the women left to weep,
set your burden to drift awhile
in ebb and flow along my shore
let me grace you with my limbo
and tread ye not along the moor."
Ever do I search the way
within and find the piece in need.
June 13, 2007 - Wednesday
she - that girl
close to three a.m. – again.
wasn't it wrote – that time before…
seeming always and again, again
in the dreamscape does he come
mayhap more oft he stays
but on this eve he did go.
early morning on the morrow
but he left her in good spirit
and less lost is she – that girl –
who let her lover steel her heart
June 12, 2007 - Tuesday
at thirty-seven going on twelve
Twelve
why twelve?
cause twelve was a good age
an age of innocence
of body
if not soul
before my menses flow
several years before
my hymen broke
it was an age of push and shove
where games were played
on asphalt and merry-go-rounds
though things with me
never came easy
I was still just a girl
just a girl
and the future was out there
it had not finally come
it had not
finally come
a soul that bleeds
that girl that did
that girl that does
that girl she turned neat
face toward flesh
she seeks
a way to stop
the love
the hurt
he is just a man,
my girl,
they are all
just men
and you?
you were graced
with too large a heart
a soul that bleeds
and the capacity
to give
tease the waking
I
That she could burn so late
through the cold yuletide
worries; what will become
of her in the summer heat?
Do suns burn off then dissipate
or like planets will she make
to the old bone yard seeking fate?
I could not know for she am I,
still, at the fire of yuletide dying
mourning embers' glow
softly fading and in my limbo
do I linger, look about
almost meek, "My god!" I cry
Where is my December!"
II
late into the eve
my southern sun does tease
and in my lulling haze
I brush soft
nipples large
and full and pink,
world about me sighing
it stops but brief allowing
her to think.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
June 11, 2007 - Monday
in the next moment
As I lay naked
prostrate to the world
core broken
but on the mend
a new day dawns
and I aspire
to reach, to ascend.
June 10, 2007 - Sunday
in the momemt
in this time and place
there is no morrow
nor no yester eve
there is only madness
and soft soliloquy
June 8, 2007 - Friday
on the otherside
On the otherside
he will greetme
light
an'energy
we will spark
an'trail
hand
an'hand
across the 'verse
leaving comets
in our wake;
my older brother
who is younger
thanI
we willdance
an'make
whole planetsshake.
June 7, 2007 - Thursday
cold flesh blue
in the midst of /madness
I tread
the water /cold
flesh blue like /silence
deep is the unknown
June 3, 2007 - Sunday
streak the unraveling
In the absence of flesh
I may just come undone
and streak the unraveling
about the 'verse
to catch in the wind
on a wayward line,
little heart left to dissipate
and wither on the vine.
mam ate molasses with butter and bread
Every now and then
I'll buy that soft white bread
melt my butter just to soft
drizzle it with molasses
honey, maple or sorghum
then tear my bread
one bite at a time and sop
that goo like gravy
creamy and sweet
let it tease my tongue
all the while wishing
I ever had a youth.
if i blink slow
if I blink slow
will the world change
will I find myself
on the morrow
in a different dream
May 31, 2007 - Thursday
my husband once
last time we spent
so long tete a tete,
we spoke of greed
and selfishness
and how all those years with you
had undone all my goodness
how I finally broke
my core
to regain it
but I was young when we met
my youth had left
(if it had ever come)
my youth had left me
wanting
something
anything
akin to love
affection
attention
I was starved
this time we were at ease
and in friendship
parted gracefully
I would you know
I will always recall you
as my husband once
my husband
May 30, 2007 - Wednesday
radio star
In these last few years
I have discovered
far more about myself
than I wish to know,
far more about others.
Some people hope,
they place hope in me
and I fail them.
I failed my brother
when he fought to live;
I failed my lovers in
not meeting their ideals.
All too often,
when the unknown
becomes known
it loses luster, lacks.
May 29, 2007 - Tuesday
in the love i dreamed
I question
was it the beauty of us
or the beauty of me
as I came and came
and in the love I dreamed
with the leaving
one day
there came a fading away
and I knew
nine months couldn't hold you
but still
I struggle against my will
with the leaving
killed a bee
killed a bee
smashed the blinds all to hell
thought about blowing ten dollars on a whore
but I don't know any
not anymore
in the next moment
As I lay naked
prostrate to the world
core broken
but on the mend
a new day dawns
and I aspire
to reach, to ascend.
June 10, 2007 - Sunday
in the momemt
in this time and place
there is no morrow
nor no yester eve
there is only madness
and soft soliloquy
June 8, 2007 - Friday
on the otherside
On the otherside
he will greetme
light
an'energy
we will spark
an'trail
hand
an'hand
across the 'verse
leaving comets
in our wake;
my older brother
who is younger
thanI
we willdance
an'make
whole planetsshake.
June 7, 2007 - Thursday
cold flesh blue
in the midst of /madness
I tread
the water /cold
flesh blue like /silence
deep is the unknown
June 3, 2007 - Sunday
streak the unraveling
In the absence of flesh
I may just come undone
and streak the unraveling
about the 'verse
to catch in the wind
on a wayward line,
little heart left to dissipate
and wither on the vine.
mam ate molasses with butter and bread
Every now and then
I'll buy that soft white bread
melt my butter just to soft
drizzle it with molasses
honey, maple or sorghum
then tear my bread
one bite at a time and sop
that goo like gravy
creamy and sweet
let it tease my tongue
all the while wishing
I ever had a youth.
if i blink slow
if I blink slow
will the world change
will I find myself
on the morrow
in a different dream
May 31, 2007 - Thursday
my husband once
last time we spent
so long tete a tete,
we spoke of greed
and selfishness
and how all those years with you
had undone all my goodness
how I finally broke
my core
to regain it
but I was young when we met
my youth had left
(if it had ever come)
my youth had left me
wanting
something
anything
akin to love
affection
attention
I was starved
this time we were at ease
and in friendship
parted gracefully
I would you know
I will always recall you
as my husband once
my husband
May 30, 2007 - Wednesday
radio star
In these last few years
I have discovered
far more about myself
than I wish to know,
far more about others.
Some people hope,
they place hope in me
and I fail them.
I failed my brother
when he fought to live;
I failed my lovers in
not meeting their ideals.
All too often,
when the unknown
becomes known
it loses luster, lacks.
May 29, 2007 - Tuesday
in the love i dreamed
I question
was it the beauty of us
or the beauty of me
as I came and came
and in the love I dreamed
with the leaving
one day
there came a fading away
and I knew
nine months couldn't hold you
but still
I struggle against my will
with the leaving
killed a bee
killed a bee
smashed the blinds all to hell
thought about blowing ten dollars on a whore
but I don't know any
not anymore
Monday, May 28, 2007
when love graced
lost in dark
came the light
gentle falls the rain
and I am drowned
too much in thought
lost in the light
came the dark
look to flesh
be my savior
grasping air
lover lost to time
time…
never lost
when love graced
came the light
gentle falls the rain
and I am drowned
too much in thought
lost in the light
came the dark
look to flesh
be my savior
grasping air
lover lost to time
time…
never lost
when love graced
Sunday, May 27, 2007
limerick
She came one day in soft little Ohs,
who'd a thunk she'd become a giggler.
and coo to the bounce of a lovely man
who's an ardent slap and a tickler.
prodigal child
Mam had grandiose dreams
of a prodigal child
practice wasn't a thing tolerated
everything should come easy
and at her whim - even life -
dance, cello, flute, guitar
and that was just for me
there was another girl once
with dreams, and a boy.
But all I was good at was
being distracted and shy
books and being a goof
Now, I'd say I'm good at something
I can write, I can fuck like crazy
(though that stays in my pants)
and I can feel my freedom
in the low grind of a good beat
an old soul finally letting go
the kind a girl that walks
off a broken toe for weeks
funny thing is I really wanted
to play that guitar and sing
if she ever would have let me – sing.
She came one day in soft little Ohs,
who'd a thunk she'd become a giggler.
and coo to the bounce of a lovely man
who's an ardent slap and a tickler.
prodigal child
Mam had grandiose dreams
of a prodigal child
practice wasn't a thing tolerated
everything should come easy
and at her whim - even life -
dance, cello, flute, guitar
and that was just for me
there was another girl once
with dreams, and a boy.
But all I was good at was
being distracted and shy
books and being a goof
Now, I'd say I'm good at something
I can write, I can fuck like crazy
(though that stays in my pants)
and I can feel my freedom
in the low grind of a good beat
an old soul finally letting go
the kind a girl that walks
off a broken toe for weeks
funny thing is I really wanted
to play that guitar and sing
if she ever would have let me – sing.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
not that i'm a daddy's girl
Remembering my first car
a '78 Audi Fox, standard;
that was before 5 gears
and before power steering;
the timing began to slip
early on and my Daddy
showed me how to set it.
I miss my Daddy,
trailing behind him Saturdays
like a pup in need of petting.
He taught me my independence
I got them through his genes.
Not that I'm a daddy's girl
but I am my father's daughter –
strong or at least perseverant.
a '78 Audi Fox, standard;
that was before 5 gears
and before power steering;
the timing began to slip
early on and my Daddy
showed me how to set it.
I miss my Daddy,
trailing behind him Saturdays
like a pup in need of petting.
He taught me my independence
I got them through his genes.
Not that I'm a daddy's girl
but I am my father's daughter –
strong or at least perseverant.
Friday, May 25, 2007
in conversation with my ex
In conversation with my Ex,
we spoke of a sabbatical
that I would retreat from my nature
much as I have in the past
time and again after our divorce.
I knew he and I had lasted
sixteen years on the shear will
of my vagina knowing what it wants
so I had to clarify my hope
that my libido would be sabbatical
away from my heart, emotions
but then again, really,
I always did hope too much as well.
leaving me to lust
I have danced with the devil
in the pale moonlight
so young then,
much too young to be
impaled upon his phallic state
embraced in arms of might
bitten on bare buttock
in the cold damp night;
he left me learned, in hot wet
dreams, leaving me to lust
in need, love bursting at the seams.
In conversation with my Ex,
we spoke of a sabbatical
that I would retreat from my nature
much as I have in the past
time and again after our divorce.
I knew he and I had lasted
sixteen years on the shear will
of my vagina knowing what it wants
so I had to clarify my hope
that my libido would be sabbatical
away from my heart, emotions
but then again, really,
I always did hope too much as well.
leaving me to lust
I have danced with the devil
in the pale moonlight
so young then,
much too young to be
impaled upon his phallic state
embraced in arms of might
bitten on bare buttock
in the cold damp night;
he left me learned, in hot wet
dreams, leaving me to lust
in need, love bursting at the seams.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
i may become that girl
Though I am fearless I do fear
I may become that girl –
Mrs. Parker and her boys –
writing my wit and reaching fame
with a string of lovers in a line
nothing ever keeping long
the highs the lows
the only difference?
She was weak where I am strong.
something in me shivers
My god the day got dark
still, cool and calm;
I wait for the cloud burst pensive
breathing deep, thinking
much too much as always
distractions lacking comfort.
Something in me shivers
a single lover in the last two years
I held as long as ever we could have last-
but in this damp, I hunger
the clouds open and I want.
friends surrounding
I surround myself
with beautiful men,
beautiful women.
They come in many
a shape and size
and color; laughter
surrounds us
much as care does.
I surround myself
with beautiful men,
beautiful women.
Though I am fearless I do fear
I may become that girl –
Mrs. Parker and her boys –
writing my wit and reaching fame
with a string of lovers in a line
nothing ever keeping long
the highs the lows
the only difference?
She was weak where I am strong.
something in me shivers
My god the day got dark
still, cool and calm;
I wait for the cloud burst pensive
breathing deep, thinking
much too much as always
distractions lacking comfort.
Something in me shivers
a single lover in the last two years
I held as long as ever we could have last-
but in this damp, I hunger
the clouds open and I want.
friends surrounding
I surround myself
with beautiful men,
beautiful women.
They come in many
a shape and size
and color; laughter
surrounds us
much as care does.
I surround myself
with beautiful men,
beautiful women.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
the glimpse
There's a Glimpse that flees
at any attempt of a grasp,
there, just behind my eyes
in the shadow of wonder
and I on the brink seeming
eons now or a world away;
the Glimpse impresses on me
divinity yet of something
perhaps I should be concerned.
I, I just want to lick the dream
from it's sweet tease of a promise
and get to where I am going.
at any attempt of a grasp,
there, just behind my eyes
in the shadow of wonder
and I on the brink seeming
eons now or a world away;
the Glimpse impresses on me
divinity yet of something
perhaps I should be concerned.
I, I just want to lick the dream
from it's sweet tease of a promise
and get to where I am going.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
may came too swift
and I know
The voice comes soft and low
melodic in bittersweet:
"Do you remember when you'd pray
To never see the day
When someone would make you feel this way
'Cause you knew
They would cut right through you
And once inside, you were afraid they'd find
Nothing to hold on to"
and I know
I have faced my worst fear.
May 15, 2007 - Tuesday
cold blue damp
Masque', the cold blue
damp glows
that I will let my lover fade
my heart, each step
along with goes
leaving me the numb
catch and release
These last few years
I have had many a sweet crush
like a pup's nose in an ant hill
I have discovered
something about me
that I am made to love;
they were beautiful men –
each in their own way
of such varying depths…some
more handsome than others
some more shy, wry of wit, most
of words, one or two I happed to kiss
everywhere,
especially the lips
.
Then one day I fell in love
and I discovered
something about me
that I could learn to trust
that I had learned to catch
and release
but in my joy I had forgotten
how to breathe.
beauty behind me
I long for eves
of fevered dreams
not so much them
but the morrow
and waking
sweat purged and pure
instead of days
spent in slight tinge
of something
unsettling, on edge,
a fear of should be's
and moving on
but how to put
beauty behind me?
May 14, 2007 - Monday
what it means to be naked
The Naked Poet is a spin off of the Naked Chef, Jamie Oliver...
"The idea behind The Naked Chef was to strip food down to its bare essentials - to prove that you didn't need to dress up ingredients or buy a load of fancy ..."
Anyway, so...The Naked Poet is my forage into simplicity. Though I love questions on authorial intent and yes, of course my writing is very much autobiographical, I am all about reader's interpretation. I want you to take away what you need, not what i am compelled at any given time to express.
much love and stay naked,
~peach
(When my ex and i divorced, it was logical that i would get the bookshelves and he would get the leather living room furniture but when it came to the two autographed cook books by Jamie, we split custody. check him out: www.jamieoliver.com)
May 5, 2007 - Saturday
drowsy is this day too damp
I am saturated to the bone with damp;
sweat – and other bodily fluids
we won't mention –
(and sleep between) smeared
with hands and tongue until…
I am saturated to the bone with damp.
Seventy-three degrees of damp
as I left him sleeping in mid morn.
This is not my Texas summer
of dry heat coming up in waves
from black gumbo and hot concrete
let these clouds burn off and give me the sun
for drowsy is this day too sweet
when indeed I need to write.
May 4, 2007 - Friday
I on the brink
I wanna get a guitar
strum to the countless hum
that fills my silence
echoes of low beats
and the moon in twilight
I had one once
it was smaller
made for little girl
fingers so fey;
drug around for years
sold it, no tears but
melancholia for a youth
that never bloomed
resignation to that life
of sacrifice
I was always sacrificing
and then on to the leaving
along Valhalla's shores
I stepped, let blood drip
from vorpal blade
blood from all
those demons slain
now I bend and sway
fluid lest ye break
wanting to lay
naked in the water
warmed on the rocks
walk barefoot in the river
the creek bed, the rills
that trickle sweet
and I have learned
change is ever in the coming
and I on the brink
May 3, 2007 - Thursday
journalesque - brave but lost
Where am I in my life? My shit…is far from together.
At thirty-seven I'm just now graduating. People ask, "Your Masters?" Regrettably I reply, "No." But it is an accomplishment – though dragging and ready to be done in these latter days – an accomplishment that excites me. I will not graduate Cum Laude but close and it is the immense effort that counts. It is an accomplishment of which I can be proud.
My job is paying for my degree through benefits so I'll have no loans to repay. Otherwise, this is not my, my career, what I want from life. I often dread even going in. Almost eight years though, surely that says something toward loyalty and dedication…even lunacy?
The internship is developing slowly, but I love it, have set hopes on it. I tingle at the potential of something brave; work from anywhere, get paid nicely eventually but nothing for now and positively impact the failing ecology.
My teaching is not quite a joke. I have learned that third-graders run over me and I don't want children of my own. Though they learn little of creative writing, they learn to read, orate in front of others, to express creative ideas without censor. They blossom and bloom like I never did. I mold future generations and affect the lives of children. I worry that I'll fuck them up.
My home is livable. It's a decent size condo that has all the right parts and pieces necessary to live. The paint is pealing, foundation shifting, carpets are a hideous blue. It is in dire need of repair and updating. But it's mine and I'll get it all done some day. I'm getting involved with my HOA and therefore the community and this feels pretty good.
I sound like a good citizen but feel spread thin and know that much is just filler to quell a thirst for accomplishment and companionship. Really, if I had the time and money I would spend it with family and friends; going out, staying in. I would schedule time to write more creatively than therapeutically. I would think less and do more.
My sights aren't set on marriage or children. I feel I'm to open to understanding and too fluid by nature to set my sites on relationships or any other prize. I find I too much enjoy the means and the process of discovery. I just can't say I want my life to be X, Y, Z. That's not to say that long term companionship isn't preferable to hermetic reclusion.
But still, I desperately want to know at what place I am in life, what all this says about me. Where do you think I am, because I'm not so sure I know. I feel rather lost in America…brave, but lost.
May 2, 2007 - Wednesday
this thing entrez nous
Last night I dreamt
in a sky blue haze
a myriad comprehensions flooding
of me
of you
of this thing entrez nous.
I want to keep you
loosely but fear
if I fail to assert, pursue
you will fade
and go.
Help me hold you
while apart but feed
my passion that consumes
let us stay
and wallow
in squeals and coos
in this thing that binds
into summer, into fall,
into winter
for if it were nothing
would we be this long about things
at all?
May 1, 2007 - Tuesday
eight months in...
I have paced about this cage
this wrenching limbo
in constant push-pull
of joy and concern
ready to move in, or on.
The outs I gave were many
but you never took them. Why?
I am neither happy
nor sure in this distance;
I have tried but the day is gray
and feral instinct wonders…
my heart recedes instead
into observance
and the cool wet of mourn
that time will escape you
indefinitely and I will
have faded away, forlorn.
summer
Sun comes to call
world moves easy
into slow grooves
of water and shine
cool, salient smiles
from her hot rock
of too warm days
she lay, stretching
sleek in skin soft.
in this city, Terra Firma
So much traffic out my window
I try to think of them
as animals or birds
(and really, aren't they?)
I wait for them
to do something curious.
Two sat on my stoop the other day
I flicked the blinds
and tapped on the window
shoo shoo go away
but they didn't go far enough
I had to step outside
up and to the right as well as left
are these ghetto-ites
up the street
they crowd the pharmacy steps
drive the grocery into disrepair
do their deals in the open on the street.
So much traffic out my window
and I teach their children how to write.
Behind me, behind the creek
the affluent in their quietude
they crowd the coffee house
emit exhaust to shop miles away
they are good at avoidance
no traffic out their window.
Us in the middle
we speak of moving bus routes
making the grocery remodel
how best to recycle
in our attempt to affect change;
in this city, Terra Firma,
we, the eclectic, are the minority
we, the eclectic, are the future
we pay attention
to the traffic out our windows.
April 25, 2007 - Wednesday
untitled
fuzzy haze of strange days
as if my skin had been
under veil too long tactilly
subtlety molted into grandiose
I think I could sleep
deep at peace this eve
the fear I ate whole digesting
and I recall the ocean off Vieques
fingertips in the water
streaming baby stingray below
I knew god then
later in sadness letting go
grown girl setting aside
childish things
and then the leaving
to be alone
suddenly this summer
I feel soft beautiful blessed
salient on a roll
April 24, 2007 - Tuesday
as I write
coffee grows cold as I write
stop to masturbate
then bathe
cold and bitter
and the day is gray
slap and tickle - three
I
The other day I suppose
my body forgot to breathe
bit by bit my face grew numb
and I found deep peace
in that deepest exhalation
and a strange awareness
came over me – mortality, and
that days would pass
before anyone guessed
or came to call.
The doctor took his bits
poked and prod
"No worries, it's just this…"
but the bits came back odd.
II
Robert, there are reasons
I sought to sever ties
want to sever more
but for love, I need them
III
And oh but Death,
look not for me in the shadows
look not for me in the river
for fear not I you but scorn
and laugh
and bare my naked ass
borne too much true
but taken it all in the end
in squeals of pleasure and delight
and lived I in the growing madness
of deafness, of other – full and bright.
I will run ye a merry chase;
stratagem of confusion
in exasperation you fail for
attitudinal, socially inept, synaptically
challenged and giggly, I prevail.
April 23, 2007 - Monday
shade my eyes against the glare
In the skies come the bright
I want the bright
it's taste and feel
for often am I steeped in shadow
and blur and sorrow;
if I could I would
but you may need to lead me
out and into twilight where
I want, need, to sing my soul
shade my eyes against the glare.
Monday, April 23, 2007
sorry, got sidetracked
Sunday, April 22, 2007
crumbs and siblings
Blood test results
sadness and fear
Robert, brother,
on the nineteenth of May this year you would have been forty-one
instead you will always be thirty-five
and I am thirty-seven
what were you thinking that first time
much like I, not to worry
it's nothing, easily explained?
and our sister, the elder, the abuser
of her body, her mind, her heart
greedy user of siblings,
my god, will you outlive us all?
journalesque on slim blonde men and solace and love
In conversation with a friend, I realized recently that I have a weakness for slim blonde men who drink and smoke. Did I mention pretty? They are, and by most women's standards. Tentatively they draw to me; some friends, one or two lovers. (I would think, at my age and depth of plainness, they would be unattainable.) One, so heart-stoppingly gorgeous in visage and heart, he steels my love with every breath and just when I thought I had grown as much as I could grow, I discover me more deeply. I try to hold him loosely, though I feel that often I cling.
These men have so much in common, these pretty men. Something in their hearts that need healing, a tenderness to which I want to stroke and coo soft words. Yes, so much in common and yet cannot be compared to another or each other. Strangely, they and so many others recognize in me solace and the attempted logic of emotion. I try to love and heal, unconditionally and then let them leave, go their way. I watch them go with bittersweet memories later to recall.
Even my brother, sister, mother, have at one point reached to me, reached out to me to make sense of things, for simple words of understating. They have wanted the most and in their view I may have failed them but in mine I have come through. For those that would stay and suck the life from me, I wish you would see that it's better to stand on your own two feet and that I can only give so much before I myself have to heal.
All comes at a price. I have severed deep, familial attachments and sometimes the sense of disconnectedness is overwhelming. My father, the one deep attachment I choose to keep, asks for nothing, is too like me, simply sleeping deep under my roof, blanketed by a sense of home.
But after so many years of feeling old, I view the world as fluid and ever changing and I have marveled at the beauty of my own ability to love, not to harden but to retain a sense of youth.
Yes, on occasion, disconnectedness plagues me
but more often the freedom to live burns in passion bright
and the world is always new to me
the slim blonde men, making me smile
as I watch them grow and go and live
but in this moment I do wonder
will my lover let me hold him this night.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
In Tongues I Have Dreamt; or Plato's Theory of Forms
Mas-que is what I have named
the turtle that keeps the earth afloat.
I do not have the words passed down
from generation to generation
Culture and inheritance are lost too me,
the emergent Texan American gone Global.
But Mas-que, like many things I write,
by chance, strings together in coherence –
thoughts that are oft times a mere syllabic utterance
of expression; they are concepts granted before birth.
those of which I catch a glimpse,
feel to the core, inherent, but cannot articulate.
Abstracts that allude me intellectually, linguistically.
They are feelings manifest in syllabic utterance
of sound for which I can only weep for the never knowing.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
as she warms my cheek
I will rise from this meloncholied winter
and I will worship, soon, by the water,
there in the grass; warm days
of cold drinks, browned skin
and tender bits almost too pink.
I will run by the wayside watching
the hubbub of the Others, foreign
as they pursue pursuant things
while the Heat basks in adoration
of the sensitivity I coddle close
in vows to never harden again. No
if I feel too deep blame not me
but summer in her brilliance
as she warms my cheek and burns
passion into the further recess
of dreams and hope and love for you.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
i have touched brief of bright white lights
I have touched brief
of bright white
lights
inside
mind and heart
external stimuli
but no it was not grief that bore me home
only the coming out that undid me
and the myriad lights gave way to seed
to bloom
to blossom free
I felt young then
younger than my youth
younger than the forms
of thought that came well before any grave
yes those there that allude me
still
always
in pixie dusts of hide and play
mischief
mischief
do I seek and do you flee
come again another day
flitter and tease
Oh yes ever do I touch brief
of a bright white
light
oft here oft there
lately, wings aflame
know I
have I learned to care
too much, too much, I know, T. C., to much
but such is my life
how I grow
each spark of light
a stepping stone
I molt and glow and catch the wind
pull myself up – strong
fall down again
Monday, April 09, 2007
a-long the road
Somewhere a-long the road
I came
and went
left a husband by the wayside
got educated
got read
got some lovin;
growed into a wo-maan
a brick house of a girl
somewhere along the road
I solidified
into something fluid
yet still
inarticulate
though I do try
and his ears
unlike mine, are patient.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
panic and water and theft
I
That close to my degree
just been invited to join Sigma Tau Delta
(the International English Honors Society),
there's this internship, writing,
that may make an impact on the ecology and
I've got a fantastic lover that I adore,
don't see us parting soon, I have
great friends that grow with me
and I am realizing my life path; only
I am that afraid of fucking it all up because
that's what I'm great at - fucking things up
pushing people away
when I feel the water sucking me down.
II
I am greedy with his love
though he cannot hold my head above the waves
he gives me breath and strength to swim;
that same breath he steels
upon each first glance and trailing kisses
along the length of me.
Friday, March 23, 2007
lucky girl
greedily
he drinks from me
the pleasure
he gives
of matrimony wilt
there's this cowboy
one long tall drink of water
in a hat and boots
bass flapping on the license plate
of his big boat towin' truck
been two years plus some
since that day on the lake
and the strangely few that followed
but we chat now and then
as if there had been more than
going down, a bit of fun,
a bit of one-sided interest
so the timing is always off
and one of us flirts while the other -
the other is with someone
checking things out or even
getting married
bad timing ya know?
but cowboys on the prowl
sans their cowgirl
just ain't my thing
and my chat grew cordial
slow and sad
that my freedom to love
where I do, where I may,
blossoms beautifully
into a brave new trust
whereas his bonds
of matrimony wilt
Thursday, March 22, 2007
exhaustion finds me
I think too much
too deep
I wanna wax poetic about stupid shit
like how
butterflies remind me of my lost virginity
and not home team dugouts
or hard, scarred wood digging into my back
I wanna talk about
how
soft trickling rills bring me to transcendence
and not the sheer sight of my lover's engorged penis –
how thinking of him makes my mouth water
and my thighs burn
sometimes
I wanna be that socio-conformist sheep
with no thoughts that scar,
I wanna be normal, blend in
and not that socially inept, unapproachable
loud laugh you hear a mile away
sometimes
I want
to not rise up to meet the road ahead
to stop these dreams
this hope
exist in a moment without thought
want, desire
trade my freedom for a cage
where I am fed three square meals a day
sometimes
I wish
I could hear
and sometimes
I am weary
and exhaustion finds me.
Monday, March 05, 2007
renamed: bit past three finally i sleep
My lover leads me far past
the point of exhaustion and
into the twilight of a full moon
A bit past three finally I sleep
should rise at six but do so later
He loves me deep, carries me past
transcendence's bliss
into the realm of betrayal
my body no longer responding
to my will but his
My heart torn asunder
ripped from my chest, swallowed
Betrayal, bliss sustained, hours
knowing I will rise, sore, just
ridden hard, put away wet
a bit past three, perhaps
I passed out, I can't be sure
I had wanted to talk soft
– he tempted me over with talk –
and close, disclose my heart
yet in the morning
I was hushed until another day
I think I slept, he says I slept
still and dead and deaf
but I knew each time he tossed
turned, my heart stopping
thoughts silently forlorn
finally I spoke meek
if you don't want to keep me
you'll have to set me free
something softer in my mind
Oh my love, I only want to grow
in the gouges my nails rent
in your sweet flesh
to see if two so different lives
could balance on madness
and core beliefs in sinc
no harm no foul if we part
it's all in the attempt to me
hopes and wishes
I called my Daddy last week or so.
We were talking, I mentioned wishing and
he asked if I recalled what my granddad used to say
I said of course not so he explained…
hold out both hands palm up
let your wishes pile up in one hand
and shit pile up in the other
see which one fills up faster.
I said ummm, thanks dad and of course
he replied that my granddad was a strange man.
We had a good laugh, my dad and I, so much alike,
but it got me thinkin' 'bout hope and wishes;
how I had been bereft of them so long
now suddenly they were in my life
and I feel odd, distorted, wanting
to toss them the hell away and run.
Hope and wishes, you see, are ambiguous to me
by nature. I feel lost without clear boundaries,
unable to define my own way, being unsure
of the future, of people I want to keep.
I have placed a lot of hope on my own shoulders
and wishes in my lover's thoughts and care.
As I attempt to balance them I struggle
within the bounds of others' dictation, restless,
within the discomfort of charterless waters. But
I dream the me I want to be, the life I want to live
lay naked 'neath the sun's caress
and let my hopes and wishes lead me forth.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
awakening
I stretch and molt
within the bounds
of lover, sweetheart;
new dynamics'
growing bond
and the allowance
to adore simply
to caress my nose
my cheek along
sweetest flesh
to chatter away
thoughts streaming -
it's a brave new me
come to play,
awakening.
Monday, February 26, 2007
we meet in that twilight
We meet in the dreamscape of twilight;
that horizon where hell caresses heaven.
He has things to fill his night, you see,
and I have things to fill my day.
He the moon and I the sun, Oh
but our core values sinc,
our love is profound
and we fuck like madness in rebirth,
make love like there really is no tomorrow.
Yet how, I wonder, do I keep us free
and still hold on tight;
Habits and lives in opposition –
and yet what is day without night,
the sun and the moon begetting
stars to fill our gaze, to wish upon…
So yes, we meet in that twilight,
and my soul at least finding peace;
deep, breathless, deserved – peace.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
outstanding
if moans were words
last eve I found a few;
soft coos and purrs
while we drank our fill
past exhaustion...
Monday, February 19, 2007
transcendence three
some day I will find transcendence;
no, it will not be in death
through spiritual enlightenment
or the attainment of higher education,
but deep in the flesh of man...
hands splayed wide on too hot flesh
and the taste of him sweet
on the tip of tongue, words lost.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Stendhal's Syndrome
She reached out
grasped air
where she thought you had been
in dreams sweet;
mistaken.
tired
drunk
fever
all the good shit comes with fever
like the moon bright afire
and sweat pouring in miniscule rivulets;
your cheek so beautiful en finis
you mistook
her tears
for Sorrow herself. Yet
it was with Stendhal's Syndrome
she wept.
crumbs and siblings
Blood test results
sadness and fear
Robert, brother,
on the nineteenth of May this year you would have been forty-one
instead you will always be thirty-five
and I am thirty-seven
what were you thinking that first time
much like I, not to worry
it's nothing, easily explained?
and our sister, the elder, the abuser
of her body, her mind, her heart
greedy user of siblings,
my god, will you outlive us all?
journalesque on slim blonde men and solace and love
In conversation with a friend, I realized recently that I have a weakness for slim blonde men who drink and smoke. Did I mention pretty? They are, and by most women's standards. Tentatively they draw to me; some friends, one or two lovers. (I would think, at my age and depth of plainness, they would be unattainable.) One, so heart-stoppingly gorgeous in visage and heart, he steels my love with every breath and just when I thought I had grown as much as I could grow, I discover me more deeply. I try to hold him loosely, though I feel that often I cling.
These men have so much in common, these pretty men. Something in their hearts that need healing, a tenderness to which I want to stroke and coo soft words. Yes, so much in common and yet cannot be compared to another or each other. Strangely, they and so many others recognize in me solace and the attempted logic of emotion. I try to love and heal, unconditionally and then let them leave, go their way. I watch them go with bittersweet memories later to recall.
Even my brother, sister, mother, have at one point reached to me, reached out to me to make sense of things, for simple words of understating. They have wanted the most and in their view I may have failed them but in mine I have come through. For those that would stay and suck the life from me, I wish you would see that it's better to stand on your own two feet and that I can only give so much before I myself have to heal.
All comes at a price. I have severed deep, familial attachments and sometimes the sense of disconnectedness is overwhelming. My father, the one deep attachment I choose to keep, asks for nothing, is too like me, simply sleeping deep under my roof, blanketed by a sense of home.
But after so many years of feeling old, I view the world as fluid and ever changing and I have marveled at the beauty of my own ability to love, not to harden but to retain a sense of youth.
Yes, on occasion, disconnectedness plagues me
but more often the freedom to live burns in passion bright
and the world is always new to me
the slim blonde men, making me smile
as I watch them grow and go and live
but in this moment I do wonder
will my lover let me hold him this night.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
In Tongues I Have Dreamt; or Plato's Theory of Forms
Mas-que is what I have named
the turtle that keeps the earth afloat.
I do not have the words passed down
from generation to generation
Culture and inheritance are lost too me,
the emergent Texan American gone Global.
But Mas-que, like many things I write,
by chance, strings together in coherence –
thoughts that are oft times a mere syllabic utterance
of expression; they are concepts granted before birth.
those of which I catch a glimpse,
feel to the core, inherent, but cannot articulate.
Abstracts that allude me intellectually, linguistically.
They are feelings manifest in syllabic utterance
of sound for which I can only weep for the never knowing.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
as she warms my cheek
I will rise from this meloncholied winter
and I will worship, soon, by the water,
there in the grass; warm days
of cold drinks, browned skin
and tender bits almost too pink.
I will run by the wayside watching
the hubbub of the Others, foreign
as they pursue pursuant things
while the Heat basks in adoration
of the sensitivity I coddle close
in vows to never harden again. No
if I feel too deep blame not me
but summer in her brilliance
as she warms my cheek and burns
passion into the further recess
of dreams and hope and love for you.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
i have touched brief of bright white lights
I have touched brief
of bright white
lights
inside
mind and heart
external stimuli
but no it was not grief that bore me home
only the coming out that undid me
and the myriad lights gave way to seed
to bloom
to blossom free
I felt young then
younger than my youth
younger than the forms
of thought that came well before any grave
yes those there that allude me
still
always
in pixie dusts of hide and play
mischief
mischief
do I seek and do you flee
come again another day
flitter and tease
Oh yes ever do I touch brief
of a bright white
light
oft here oft there
lately, wings aflame
know I
have I learned to care
too much, too much, I know, T. C., to much
but such is my life
how I grow
each spark of light
a stepping stone
I molt and glow and catch the wind
pull myself up – strong
fall down again
Monday, April 09, 2007
a-long the road
Somewhere a-long the road
I came
and went
left a husband by the wayside
got educated
got read
got some lovin;
growed into a wo-maan
a brick house of a girl
somewhere along the road
I solidified
into something fluid
yet still
inarticulate
though I do try
and his ears
unlike mine, are patient.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
panic and water and theft
I
That close to my degree
just been invited to join Sigma Tau Delta
(the International English Honors Society),
there's this internship, writing,
that may make an impact on the ecology and
I've got a fantastic lover that I adore,
don't see us parting soon, I have
great friends that grow with me
and I am realizing my life path; only
I am that afraid of fucking it all up because
that's what I'm great at - fucking things up
pushing people away
when I feel the water sucking me down.
II
I am greedy with his love
though he cannot hold my head above the waves
he gives me breath and strength to swim;
that same breath he steels
upon each first glance and trailing kisses
along the length of me.
Friday, March 23, 2007
lucky girl
greedily
he drinks from me
the pleasure
he gives
of matrimony wilt
there's this cowboy
one long tall drink of water
in a hat and boots
bass flapping on the license plate
of his big boat towin' truck
been two years plus some
since that day on the lake
and the strangely few that followed
but we chat now and then
as if there had been more than
going down, a bit of fun,
a bit of one-sided interest
so the timing is always off
and one of us flirts while the other -
the other is with someone
checking things out or even
getting married
bad timing ya know?
but cowboys on the prowl
sans their cowgirl
just ain't my thing
and my chat grew cordial
slow and sad
that my freedom to love
where I do, where I may,
blossoms beautifully
into a brave new trust
whereas his bonds
of matrimony wilt
Thursday, March 22, 2007
exhaustion finds me
I think too much
too deep
I wanna wax poetic about stupid shit
like how
butterflies remind me of my lost virginity
and not home team dugouts
or hard, scarred wood digging into my back
I wanna talk about
how
soft trickling rills bring me to transcendence
and not the sheer sight of my lover's engorged penis –
how thinking of him makes my mouth water
and my thighs burn
sometimes
I wanna be that socio-conformist sheep
with no thoughts that scar,
I wanna be normal, blend in
and not that socially inept, unapproachable
loud laugh you hear a mile away
sometimes
I want
to not rise up to meet the road ahead
to stop these dreams
this hope
exist in a moment without thought
want, desire
trade my freedom for a cage
where I am fed three square meals a day
sometimes
I wish
I could hear
and sometimes
I am weary
and exhaustion finds me.
Monday, March 05, 2007
renamed: bit past three finally i sleep
My lover leads me far past
the point of exhaustion and
into the twilight of a full moon
A bit past three finally I sleep
should rise at six but do so later
He loves me deep, carries me past
transcendence's bliss
into the realm of betrayal
my body no longer responding
to my will but his
My heart torn asunder
ripped from my chest, swallowed
Betrayal, bliss sustained, hours
knowing I will rise, sore, just
ridden hard, put away wet
a bit past three, perhaps
I passed out, I can't be sure
I had wanted to talk soft
– he tempted me over with talk –
and close, disclose my heart
yet in the morning
I was hushed until another day
I think I slept, he says I slept
still and dead and deaf
but I knew each time he tossed
turned, my heart stopping
thoughts silently forlorn
finally I spoke meek
if you don't want to keep me
you'll have to set me free
something softer in my mind
Oh my love, I only want to grow
in the gouges my nails rent
in your sweet flesh
to see if two so different lives
could balance on madness
and core beliefs in sinc
no harm no foul if we part
it's all in the attempt to me
hopes and wishes
I called my Daddy last week or so.
We were talking, I mentioned wishing and
he asked if I recalled what my granddad used to say
I said of course not so he explained…
hold out both hands palm up
let your wishes pile up in one hand
and shit pile up in the other
see which one fills up faster.
I said ummm, thanks dad and of course
he replied that my granddad was a strange man.
We had a good laugh, my dad and I, so much alike,
but it got me thinkin' 'bout hope and wishes;
how I had been bereft of them so long
now suddenly they were in my life
and I feel odd, distorted, wanting
to toss them the hell away and run.
Hope and wishes, you see, are ambiguous to me
by nature. I feel lost without clear boundaries,
unable to define my own way, being unsure
of the future, of people I want to keep.
I have placed a lot of hope on my own shoulders
and wishes in my lover's thoughts and care.
As I attempt to balance them I struggle
within the bounds of others' dictation, restless,
within the discomfort of charterless waters. But
I dream the me I want to be, the life I want to live
lay naked 'neath the sun's caress
and let my hopes and wishes lead me forth.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
awakening
I stretch and molt
within the bounds
of lover, sweetheart;
new dynamics'
growing bond
and the allowance
to adore simply
to caress my nose
my cheek along
sweetest flesh
to chatter away
thoughts streaming -
it's a brave new me
come to play,
awakening.
Monday, February 26, 2007
we meet in that twilight
We meet in the dreamscape of twilight;
that horizon where hell caresses heaven.
He has things to fill his night, you see,
and I have things to fill my day.
He the moon and I the sun, Oh
but our core values sinc,
our love is profound
and we fuck like madness in rebirth,
make love like there really is no tomorrow.
Yet how, I wonder, do I keep us free
and still hold on tight;
Habits and lives in opposition –
and yet what is day without night,
the sun and the moon begetting
stars to fill our gaze, to wish upon…
So yes, we meet in that twilight,
and my soul at least finding peace;
deep, breathless, deserved – peace.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
outstanding
if moans were words
last eve I found a few;
soft coos and purrs
while we drank our fill
past exhaustion...
Monday, February 19, 2007
transcendence three
some day I will find transcendence;
no, it will not be in death
through spiritual enlightenment
or the attainment of higher education,
but deep in the flesh of man...
hands splayed wide on too hot flesh
and the taste of him sweet
on the tip of tongue, words lost.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Stendhal's Syndrome
She reached out
grasped air
where she thought you had been
in dreams sweet;
mistaken.
tired
drunk
fever
all the good shit comes with fever
like the moon bright afire
and sweat pouring in miniscule rivulets;
your cheek so beautiful en finis
you mistook
her tears
for Sorrow herself. Yet
it was with Stendhal's Syndrome
she wept.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
backdraft
heavy comes the day
heavy comes the day
the night
heavy comes life
panic in the becoming
a responsible social
un-outcast
responsibility breeds
conformity, conformity
breeds responsibility
it's all a tie down
bile in the pit rising
and I want to spit, panic
- in love is freedom
- away
- from time filling
the spirit that endeavors
to persevere
is not the one that burns
in the sun bright smiling.
she turns neatly
five and a half
months going on sad
so in love and yet
she sought the end
too bi-polar/unsure
she wants the constant high
and in reciprocation oodles
she dreams of madness
could only step so neat away
with lash perturbing
never coming free
she blinks
she pokes and prods and
scratches nervous, unfocused
laughing full deep
mousy
not that long-legged blonde
she thinks you need
but will never know
cause you never really said.
Monday, February 12, 2007
pales despotic
Her mind too often comes round to him;
the object of her affection more than whim
and the parting on her hard. She wanted
to seek solace in the attention of others and
admits to the smallest shallow bone. Saved;
a brother in arms, neat beside her, kept
comfort where the others drew aloof and
she steps brief inside to need no other. All
the while Sorrow sings soft you are loved
pales despotic against you are wanted.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
wish you were here
missing:
my brother and family
wish
you were here
wish
I had had you once.
Monday, February 05, 2007
solipsist
I was humming
Suo Gan in the grocery store
in disturbing clarity. But
I am not a singer;
my voice was made
for coos and soft pleases,
my body much the same,
and a heart that wants
it all.
Friday, February 02, 2007
this morning weary
This morning, weary
eyes returned my gaze;
I thought of mother
of sister, their eyes
slight with madness. And
though I have their smile
belaying sweetness,
in my eyes I see only
sadness of rare occasion
coming through. Yet
like their burdens, mine
plead to find a heart
to understand, to sooth
to bring me home.
Monday, January 29, 2007
death be not proud
Oh Death, be not proud
but come a beggar
thief in the night
thief in the day, wet
kiss on too cool lips
a blessed step into
that longest goodnight.
No, Death, be not proud
for those that remain
slay You in memoriam
of laughter and sweetest
passions to live, to love.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
feeling things out
I asked him, "do you wanna go steady?"
he says to me, "yes, no, maybe,
do you wanna live in a…
mansion,
apartment
shack
shed,
please check one…"
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
roughhousing
We were roughhousing
but the tears fell;
there was pain
in my heart
that sought voice
and it manifest in tears.
You kissed them away,
away shushing, regret;
I felt small, cherished,
hurt diminishing
in your arms and words.
Our twilight tête-à -tête
discovering much
disclosing thoughts;
I don't know tomorrow
but want more today.
And oh but I wanted
to ask what to do,
what you want of me;
seek guidance
in your wisdom,
for you are wise. (Though
you know as much as I.)
And I want you to realize
my need, my pain, also
that you are a wonder
to me, and it is conceivable
I want you justly. Today.
on existance
I know I've said some of this before, but...I'm feeling introspective and wanting more time from my lover...but not the world, not yet...
Every relationship has a time and place, a depth and duration, a purpose.
There are no answers and we can only know these things once all is said and done.
And sometiems...sadly but fortunately, we realize the myriad and infinite possibilities become an even more limited number of potential probablities and once decisions are made, freadom of choice becomes fate...
and life can only unfold the way it will.
But I want to exist in this moment a while longer and beg the Fates let me.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
death allows me to love
He, my older brother
now younger than I, he…
looked to me for hope –
his savior. But I failed.
I spoke the words,
signed in ink like blood
and watched his life
painfully slip away.
As if this weren't enough
when the time came I…
I left him with Dad and others –
friends surrounding, yes.
But it was in me that hope
was misplaced and I left him.
I left him in his dying.
Guilt I suppose and
sadly, always will I carry
death in my heart, never
knowing that I will ever
let it go, that it will free me.
But death, you see, allows
me to love desperately
and passionately – as me.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
in my heart i am home
There is stillness in the damp
of the earth
but a few branches sway
gently as I glean
the myriad complexity,
calm of the scene.
Out my backdoor comes the birds
comes their song
Out on the front porch
the baby Gecko suns.
Softly, suddenly, contentment I find;
not so much in this place
as in my heart, the girl I've become,
with friends surrounding
and love found – my new darling.
Yes, home is where the heart is
and in my heart I am home.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
in my lover's touch
yester-eve in my lovers touch
I stopped to breathe,
the myriad cacophony,
of a mind's day simply,
beatifically, hushed;
Came the light, came
the day, and almost
did I blush overlong,
cling too fast, love too much,
verily did I sleep too soft,
his nearness…
his nearness…
and my thought trailedd off.
Monday, December 18, 2006
on turning thirty-seven
Used to think I was moving t'ward somethin'
when birthdays came around.
Now there's an uncomforting squeaze
like pants so tight cain't breathe.
Thirty-seven feels strange
and I am suddenly
in more thought than once
when afeared of shadows
that come too close.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
stop, breathe, believe
sometimes
we hear what we want to hear
believe what we want to believe
he is guilty of this
I am guilty of this
but I see
he wears his self-depreciation
on his sleeve
I bear my insecurity in constant messaging.
we two kindred spirits stretching
stop, breathe, believe;
have fun with it, together be free.
Monday, December 11, 2006
only we can give our dreams breath
the ties that bind the mind that sets you free
settling down finding freedom
getting married committing to wanting the best for him
and honesty and validation
buying a house exploring life
social perception my reality
only we can give our dreams breath
Friday, December 08, 2006
madness stirs
on the brink of joy
madness stirs
…and fear
and I am restless
life no longer
holding me intent
not when
I have glimpsed
more
and drunk morning
dew from lips sweet
Thursday, December 07, 2006
entangled
told him
I'm scared of him
my voice felt meek
psyche timid
he didn't reply
in words
but held me
overlong
too sweet
cheek pressed
against my hair
arms and hands
entangled
he said hush now
sleep
and I slept
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
freedom
Don't fall in love with you?
she asked in startlement;
No, no, I said don't fall
off the bed, he replied in patience.
Freedom is throwing off the shackles of shoulds
for the good and natural and real.
Monday, December 04, 2006
moonshadows
He gazed on me
bathed in moonshadows.
I beheld my own breasts
waist, hip – cool flesh
beneath his too hot touch –
I beheld my own beauty
through his caress and gaze,
mouth and words. I tried
to crawl inside him
as deep as he is in me.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
tremble in the cold - revised
I want to lay with you
half revealed in twilight,
our nakedness entwined
and swaddled unkempt
– your cigarette aglow,
"this is the good stuff"
I say soft, sweet
are my lips on you –
shoulders bared,
I tremble in the cold
against your heat
as wet beneath, sweat
streams in tiny rivulets.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
opportunity
the round room
is all doors;
watch me
see if i don't
find a window
to pry open and
crawl free.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
tremble in the cold
I want to sit with you
half revealed in twilight
your cigarette aglow
"this is the good stuff"
sweet, my lips on you
tremble in the cold
against your heat.
remember when the glass shattered - unfinished
Remember when the glass shattered and I said I was sorry?
The ligament in my thumb was cut to the bone, never quite healing.
It took two shots and it still didn't numb so I said do it anyway
and eight stitches and a month later, I had a scar that ached in the rain.
Remember when the glass shattered and I said I was sorry? And
in the moment you missed your race but I held through the pain – no tears –
only later to weep and pick up the heart you cut from me with your tongue,
your anger spilling over me like acid all that time, but I never bittered.
Years passed and finally I came to understand it was selfishness;
You said it was selfishness and I said that's not a good reason.
All those years of emotional stitches, no, it was not a good reason.
Remember how my heart shattered and I said I was sorry?
Well I am not sorry for those years of anger though I know you are.
They did not toughen me but instilled in me a knowledge that
sometimes hearts must break before they can be stitched and mend.
on occasion death haunts me
That night I dreamt of
blood drips from fingertips
as I leaned back into a doze
not knowing whence such
intense feelings flooded.
Tell me did the water wash
your sins away, Stevie Ray?
Is that how you went? And
how could I feel your spirit
slip and slide, release
from so very far away when
my own brother I saw
screaming to an empty room?
All he left? A hollow shell.
Monday, November 06, 2006
three from sunday
hum, hum, hum
the machine whirs
soft and low.
the birds chirp
in tiny thrills.
the soft moan
of you coming
undone.
every day
cherished sounds.
I stop in the moment;
open my heart, my mind.
I may never hear
these things again
but I will never lose them.
II
I can bare my joy
blindly to the world
but my pain? my fear?
I lick like crumbs
from the plate
and swallow
with sweet hot tea
slowly.
III
give me your todays
and let tomorrow lay
in your trust and keep
that I would follow.
Friday, November 03, 2006
(dream of you?) I do...
I
I want to touch your face
in pools of midnight
endlessly.
II
Yes, I have sung songs of crushes
soft to lovers lost and left
(this past year in celibate verse).
Yet in present passion's keep it is
of you, sweetheart, to wit
for which my heart hums in bliss.
III
Will you still desire me if
I let you see my socks?
Fuzzy monkey socks
warm in black and tan?
IV
You still the thoughts
of endless chatter
that drive me dense,
draw my focus
taught, intense,
into the beauty of
a freckle's depth
and soft fine hairs
my nose caressed,
and stir my mouth
to water and libido
to long.
It is in
you I quench
my thirst for which
only you are the punch
(the cookies, the paste
after the nap devoured
in haste).
V
I want to give you only sweetness,
the last drop for you to suck
from the tip of my tongue
with your last breath.
Only I can neither speak of last breaths
nor allow myself to want,
but live in the moment afeared
that happiness finally is here.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
the cube
Current mood: the object of patience
this was an excercise from a book. i believe both are called teh cube. i'm not posting the exercise. after the exercise, we were told what the objects we were told to envision mean. some chose cubes of wood, cubes of light, fluctuating cubes...here is mine and afterward, the...unveiling that i am still puzzling over.
in a slight impression of sand the cube lay
masaic cuts in metal gleaming
like the sun in shattered bright array
large as life yet upon approach
no larger than the nail of my thumb…
and leaning on the Palm close by, a ladder of Ash. Foreign to these tropical shores and old even during the youth of man.
Not a yard past it all, a stead, nineteen hands tall and pale as the moon. Nosing the earth, his bright eye's glistening, eyeing me, eyeing the cube, ignoring the ladder, ignoring…
the storm the sand swirling in funnels skittering about, funnels like tornadoes feeding sand into the deep.
I stepped about the cube toward my stead. His gaze now steady, a myriad soft blue morning glories springing from his main; one, two, three…
while the funnels flitter off and away.
the cube is me
the ladder is my friends
the horse is my lover
the storm is trouble
the flowers are children
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
new month steady (a little ditty fairly shakespeare-esque)
he said bye, bye butterfly
as she flittered off into a new day
sustained on nectar sweet
and cheecks blushed of but a two hours' sleep.
heavy comes the day
the night
heavy comes life
panic in the becoming
a responsible social
un-outcast
responsibility breeds
conformity, conformity
breeds responsibility
it's all a tie down
bile in the pit rising
and I want to spit, panic
- in love is freedom
- away
- from time filling
the spirit that endeavors
to persevere
is not the one that burns
in the sun bright smiling.
she turns neatly
five and a half
months going on sad
so in love and yet
she sought the end
too bi-polar/unsure
she wants the constant high
and in reciprocation oodles
she dreams of madness
could only step so neat away
with lash perturbing
never coming free
she blinks
she pokes and prods and
scratches nervous, unfocused
laughing full deep
mousy
not that long-legged blonde
she thinks you need
but will never know
cause you never really said.
Monday, February 12, 2007
pales despotic
Her mind too often comes round to him;
the object of her affection more than whim
and the parting on her hard. She wanted
to seek solace in the attention of others and
admits to the smallest shallow bone. Saved;
a brother in arms, neat beside her, kept
comfort where the others drew aloof and
she steps brief inside to need no other. All
the while Sorrow sings soft you are loved
pales despotic against you are wanted.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
wish you were here
missing:
my brother and family
wish
you were here
wish
I had had you once.
Monday, February 05, 2007
solipsist
I was humming
Suo Gan in the grocery store
in disturbing clarity. But
I am not a singer;
my voice was made
for coos and soft pleases,
my body much the same,
and a heart that wants
it all.
Friday, February 02, 2007
this morning weary
This morning, weary
eyes returned my gaze;
I thought of mother
of sister, their eyes
slight with madness. And
though I have their smile
belaying sweetness,
in my eyes I see only
sadness of rare occasion
coming through. Yet
like their burdens, mine
plead to find a heart
to understand, to sooth
to bring me home.
Monday, January 29, 2007
death be not proud
Oh Death, be not proud
but come a beggar
thief in the night
thief in the day, wet
kiss on too cool lips
a blessed step into
that longest goodnight.
No, Death, be not proud
for those that remain
slay You in memoriam
of laughter and sweetest
passions to live, to love.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
feeling things out
I asked him, "do you wanna go steady?"
he says to me, "yes, no, maybe,
do you wanna live in a…
mansion,
apartment
shack
shed,
please check one…"
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
roughhousing
We were roughhousing
but the tears fell;
there was pain
in my heart
that sought voice
and it manifest in tears.
You kissed them away,
away shushing, regret;
I felt small, cherished,
hurt diminishing
in your arms and words.
Our twilight tête-à -tête
discovering much
disclosing thoughts;
I don't know tomorrow
but want more today.
And oh but I wanted
to ask what to do,
what you want of me;
seek guidance
in your wisdom,
for you are wise. (Though
you know as much as I.)
And I want you to realize
my need, my pain, also
that you are a wonder
to me, and it is conceivable
I want you justly. Today.
on existance
I know I've said some of this before, but...I'm feeling introspective and wanting more time from my lover...but not the world, not yet...
Every relationship has a time and place, a depth and duration, a purpose.
There are no answers and we can only know these things once all is said and done.
And sometiems...sadly but fortunately, we realize the myriad and infinite possibilities become an even more limited number of potential probablities and once decisions are made, freadom of choice becomes fate...
and life can only unfold the way it will.
But I want to exist in this moment a while longer and beg the Fates let me.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
death allows me to love
He, my older brother
now younger than I, he…
looked to me for hope –
his savior. But I failed.
I spoke the words,
signed in ink like blood
and watched his life
painfully slip away.
As if this weren't enough
when the time came I…
I left him with Dad and others –
friends surrounding, yes.
But it was in me that hope
was misplaced and I left him.
I left him in his dying.
Guilt I suppose and
sadly, always will I carry
death in my heart, never
knowing that I will ever
let it go, that it will free me.
But death, you see, allows
me to love desperately
and passionately – as me.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
in my heart i am home
There is stillness in the damp
of the earth
but a few branches sway
gently as I glean
the myriad complexity,
calm of the scene.
Out my backdoor comes the birds
comes their song
Out on the front porch
the baby Gecko suns.
Softly, suddenly, contentment I find;
not so much in this place
as in my heart, the girl I've become,
with friends surrounding
and love found – my new darling.
Yes, home is where the heart is
and in my heart I am home.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
in my lover's touch
yester-eve in my lovers touch
I stopped to breathe,
the myriad cacophony,
of a mind's day simply,
beatifically, hushed;
Came the light, came
the day, and almost
did I blush overlong,
cling too fast, love too much,
verily did I sleep too soft,
his nearness…
his nearness…
and my thought trailedd off.
Monday, December 18, 2006
on turning thirty-seven
Used to think I was moving t'ward somethin'
when birthdays came around.
Now there's an uncomforting squeaze
like pants so tight cain't breathe.
Thirty-seven feels strange
and I am suddenly
in more thought than once
when afeared of shadows
that come too close.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
stop, breathe, believe
sometimes
we hear what we want to hear
believe what we want to believe
he is guilty of this
I am guilty of this
but I see
he wears his self-depreciation
on his sleeve
I bear my insecurity in constant messaging.
we two kindred spirits stretching
stop, breathe, believe;
have fun with it, together be free.
Monday, December 11, 2006
only we can give our dreams breath
the ties that bind the mind that sets you free
settling down finding freedom
getting married committing to wanting the best for him
and honesty and validation
buying a house exploring life
social perception my reality
only we can give our dreams breath
Friday, December 08, 2006
madness stirs
on the brink of joy
madness stirs
…and fear
and I am restless
life no longer
holding me intent
not when
I have glimpsed
more
and drunk morning
dew from lips sweet
Thursday, December 07, 2006
entangled
told him
I'm scared of him
my voice felt meek
psyche timid
he didn't reply
in words
but held me
overlong
too sweet
cheek pressed
against my hair
arms and hands
entangled
he said hush now
sleep
and I slept
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
freedom
Don't fall in love with you?
she asked in startlement;
No, no, I said don't fall
off the bed, he replied in patience.
Freedom is throwing off the shackles of shoulds
for the good and natural and real.
Monday, December 04, 2006
moonshadows
He gazed on me
bathed in moonshadows.
I beheld my own breasts
waist, hip – cool flesh
beneath his too hot touch –
I beheld my own beauty
through his caress and gaze,
mouth and words. I tried
to crawl inside him
as deep as he is in me.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
tremble in the cold - revised
I want to lay with you
half revealed in twilight,
our nakedness entwined
and swaddled unkempt
– your cigarette aglow,
"this is the good stuff"
I say soft, sweet
are my lips on you –
shoulders bared,
I tremble in the cold
against your heat
as wet beneath, sweat
streams in tiny rivulets.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
opportunity
the round room
is all doors;
watch me
see if i don't
find a window
to pry open and
crawl free.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
tremble in the cold
I want to sit with you
half revealed in twilight
your cigarette aglow
"this is the good stuff"
sweet, my lips on you
tremble in the cold
against your heat.
remember when the glass shattered - unfinished
Remember when the glass shattered and I said I was sorry?
The ligament in my thumb was cut to the bone, never quite healing.
It took two shots and it still didn't numb so I said do it anyway
and eight stitches and a month later, I had a scar that ached in the rain.
Remember when the glass shattered and I said I was sorry? And
in the moment you missed your race but I held through the pain – no tears –
only later to weep and pick up the heart you cut from me with your tongue,
your anger spilling over me like acid all that time, but I never bittered.
Years passed and finally I came to understand it was selfishness;
You said it was selfishness and I said that's not a good reason.
All those years of emotional stitches, no, it was not a good reason.
Remember how my heart shattered and I said I was sorry?
Well I am not sorry for those years of anger though I know you are.
They did not toughen me but instilled in me a knowledge that
sometimes hearts must break before they can be stitched and mend.
on occasion death haunts me
That night I dreamt of
blood drips from fingertips
as I leaned back into a doze
not knowing whence such
intense feelings flooded.
Tell me did the water wash
your sins away, Stevie Ray?
Is that how you went? And
how could I feel your spirit
slip and slide, release
from so very far away when
my own brother I saw
screaming to an empty room?
All he left? A hollow shell.
Monday, November 06, 2006
three from sunday
hum, hum, hum
the machine whirs
soft and low.
the birds chirp
in tiny thrills.
the soft moan
of you coming
undone.
every day
cherished sounds.
I stop in the moment;
open my heart, my mind.
I may never hear
these things again
but I will never lose them.
II
I can bare my joy
blindly to the world
but my pain? my fear?
I lick like crumbs
from the plate
and swallow
with sweet hot tea
slowly.
III
give me your todays
and let tomorrow lay
in your trust and keep
that I would follow.
Friday, November 03, 2006
(dream of you?) I do...
I
I want to touch your face
in pools of midnight
endlessly.
II
Yes, I have sung songs of crushes
soft to lovers lost and left
(this past year in celibate verse).
Yet in present passion's keep it is
of you, sweetheart, to wit
for which my heart hums in bliss.
III
Will you still desire me if
I let you see my socks?
Fuzzy monkey socks
warm in black and tan?
IV
You still the thoughts
of endless chatter
that drive me dense,
draw my focus
taught, intense,
into the beauty of
a freckle's depth
and soft fine hairs
my nose caressed,
and stir my mouth
to water and libido
to long.
It is in
you I quench
my thirst for which
only you are the punch
(the cookies, the paste
after the nap devoured
in haste).
V
I want to give you only sweetness,
the last drop for you to suck
from the tip of my tongue
with your last breath.
Only I can neither speak of last breaths
nor allow myself to want,
but live in the moment afeared
that happiness finally is here.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
the cube
Current mood: the object of patience
this was an excercise from a book. i believe both are called teh cube. i'm not posting the exercise. after the exercise, we were told what the objects we were told to envision mean. some chose cubes of wood, cubes of light, fluctuating cubes...here is mine and afterward, the...unveiling that i am still puzzling over.
in a slight impression of sand the cube lay
masaic cuts in metal gleaming
like the sun in shattered bright array
large as life yet upon approach
no larger than the nail of my thumb…
and leaning on the Palm close by, a ladder of Ash. Foreign to these tropical shores and old even during the youth of man.
Not a yard past it all, a stead, nineteen hands tall and pale as the moon. Nosing the earth, his bright eye's glistening, eyeing me, eyeing the cube, ignoring the ladder, ignoring…
the storm the sand swirling in funnels skittering about, funnels like tornadoes feeding sand into the deep.
I stepped about the cube toward my stead. His gaze now steady, a myriad soft blue morning glories springing from his main; one, two, three…
while the funnels flitter off and away.
the cube is me
the ladder is my friends
the horse is my lover
the storm is trouble
the flowers are children
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
new month steady (a little ditty fairly shakespeare-esque)
he said bye, bye butterfly
as she flittered off into a new day
sustained on nectar sweet
and cheecks blushed of but a two hours' sleep.