April 28, 2008 - Monday
onions and graphite
writing
late into the eve
of a day of
slow stewed savories
wrapped in warm
chenille I fell adrift, room
aglow; faint scent
onions and graphite
on my hands
filling dreams
April 24, 2008 - Thursday
breathing the good wet earth
Through the tall wetland grass she glides
bare legs, limbs, nosed sun-kissed
long hair a glisten
on toward the herd,
the baby white she calls Hopi, the people.
From the rocks comes the baby snake
skin new and body blue organs,
eyes milk white, gleaming blind
into the warmth of her palm.
The way was leaving
and her mourning would go long
into lives as yet unknown
where she would dream her days
of breathing the good wet earth.
And where she walks, with Hope she goes…
lymerick 121 (yes that’s a random number...)
little girls dream of Princes
little boys dream of luck
but the gender nutritive
on the whole,
they're more oftly fucked.
April 17, 2008 - Thursday
bright penny
I
nary the first to come away
unstick from the mess that binds
that took a life to ingrain
– yet like a child to the sun
her first bright penny –
she looks on it all with wonder
II
and what it took to unconform;
those things that should frighten
release her heart to soar.
in her new day
no other's
April 16, 2008 - Wednesday
a strange malaise
knowledge, comprehension,
bring about a strange malaise
as if something detriment
to innocence were lost
with their gain;
sad and bittersweet
the joy of her ascension
how she loves her way.
April 15, 2008 - Tuesday
her heart’s unrest
There was a comfort
to the lack of want
and the
– not so much denial of self –
but a firm hold on the reins
on the strong will that said
conform
an allowance
of observation of others
that keeps you unnoticed
of liberties the norm
cannot come away with
but I was not free
perhaps never would have
in completeness
if not for another paying
the death toll
oh my heart knew peace
(of such without tactile
pleasure)
my heart knew peace
but my spirit was not free
April 11, 2008 - Friday
if i could breathe water
If I could breathe
Water
the moon to drink
your smile sweet
though brief
fleet
logic’s child
She stared
about the room
wide-eyed
ready for things that go bump
things that may come
in darkness
Logic's child
knowing otherwise
she may be hacked to bits
off-guard.
April 8, 2008 - Tuesday
and the world suddenly
May steals soft into my heart
stalking it creeps along
the shadowed rim
just outside the light;
Robert
brother
death
that first May cruelly
these years of becoming
and the world suddenly
too wide
the nights of wonder...
April 6, 2008 - Sunday
she seeks
Her inheritance?:
a heart too wide
Yet
when her mind stills
brief
knowledge interludes
and The Quiet
is deafening
The Quiet
The Quiet
feels more like destiny
the harder she tries to spite it
And transcendence?:
The Little Death
far and few between
she seeks.
April 1, 2008 - Tuesday
A question to Mrs. Parker
Oh Dottie,
Did everything throb
that first time you read the author’s name on a book and the inscription inside…
...to you...
Did you adore him?
Were you near enough to reach out
and touch his
…heart…?
Did you desire him?
March 29, 2008 - Saturday
missing in America
the call came one night
around one or two
I awoke my husband who didn’t want to wake
didn’t recognize her in the bus station’s exterior
amidst the crowd of street-lit downtown
faces searching for lost hope
as I kept my gaze low
there she was, down-trod but not beaten
bright eyes in a body hitting forty
always a dreamer
with a scheme up her sleeve
but all I had was credit
and she wanted cash
so at the end of the week at the hotel
the end of the week of getting her clothes
new documents to replace the lost…
food, a hot pot, and anger
at the little cash I could spare going
toward cigarettes
half drunk bottles on the dresser
skimpy swimsuit on the towel bar
gone again
my sister
missing in America
March 28, 2008 - Friday
not what i meant at all
sometimes I
look into things
like health insurance
or birth control
that won’t make me feel
so fat
but I come to no decision
and nothing changes
in fact I come away more confused,
the questions to the answers I sought
not what I meant at all
and the answers?
I’ll never know them anyway.
March 19, 2008 - Wednesday
The Summers of My Youth - short excerpt/non-fiction
March 02
You know, it didn’t stop raining for days in March that year. But it wasn’t a gray rain. And when it stopped, there was Texas in a beautiful spring. It hadn’t gone straight from winter to summer as one would have thought. And though I don’t recall a spring in Texas before that year, it seems like we’ve had several since.
this day
this day
six years ago
when all the world was raining
and all the world was green
flowers, startling abloom
the smell of damp earth
everywhere
everywhere
and then we buried you.
March 14, 2008 - Friday
i have become
sometimes
when I am happy
I cry – senseless deep sorrow.
it’s for you and you
and how you used me
that one of you knows it
the other will never cop to it
that brother is dead
sister is Missing In America
father is happy at last
mother may never know
only she can help herself
that My Husband Once has grown without me
because of me
is the one who knows he used me
that when this one man holds me
I feel as beautiful as I believe myself to be
and that I have come this far, baby
can do anything
be anything
I have arrived
have
become
and cry perhaps
for the sorrow and loss it took to get here.
mind a drift
My Husband Once
had taught me how
not to pre-wash dishes,
not even to knock the big stuff loose
what a time saver!
and the dishwasher
took care of it
and we could be out and on
to other senseless tasks…
but in my little place now
where when things break I fix them
or not
I am learning
I loved my hands in water
and the clean smell of soap
puttering, doing, making
and the time
to think
in my little place
where these little things please me
and I walk-about
singing
March 11, 2008 - Tuesday
otherwise
Last night I dreamt
of Medieval things.
They came at me full on
in blood and glory,
Honoria with her sword
and the fire burning...
Words for the visions,
aglow in air came streaming,
I the vessel to convey.
And I awoke weeping.
All I want to do
is write these things I dream.
But the world won't let me;
it would have me otherwise.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Sunday, March 02, 2008
"and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar"
March 2, 2008 - Sunday
strong in our being
some of us
are so strong in our being
we have no niche
no stereotype within which to find solace
and comfort
the confusion to others –
of our identity, their inability to label
or find basis for connotation –
leaves us in wanderlust
searching
and them
thinking we are not in need
and never understanding we do
want
desire
March 1, 2008 - Saturday
for Mandy, et al.
Some of us,
we are low, yet others?
Are coming into their well deserved good fortune;
All of us, though, we are blessed
with good hearts
and friends surrounding
that see
that love
that will endure the years.
February 28, 2008 - Thursday
with a taunting glare
I came across a day once
it was easy
low
drank my ice tea
with a taunting glare
and I ended up back fisting the son of a bitch
for being a tease
but my drink was gone
then the day was gone
but my itch was still there
February 24, 2008 - Sunday
oh ye strong women
There's a little heart
that shines
under years of dust
and grime
but no one cares to claim it
no one cares
to claim it
and the girl sleeps alone
February 20, 2008 - Wednesday
bright is her forced disposition
it is not a good tired
the kind that lets you sleep through
it is a senseless thing
where the mind never stills
and the body remains weary
February 12, 2008 - Tuesday
lyric
Sometimes<------- lovers leave<
and sometimes<-------
lovers leave>
but in between>----- was you and me
late nights early morns> and
oh------------------
sweaty sheets]
How<
we loved<
my baby>
Oh----------
How< you made me-----
blue>-------
conundrum
these last few months of disassociation
and the heart numbing toward him
and he is not going
and surely I will not let things go on as such
this last year and a half
but I adore him
I adore him
January 31, 2008 - Thursday
as I made ready
I waltzed in, quiet and low-key,
filled out paperwork
looked at the dog I chose
from countless others
and took her home. It all seemed so easy
I felt like a thief and left giddy, scot-free.
Then I took stock
while my new pup waited in the car:
leash, harness, food, comb, shampoo
stuffed snowman, new and fuzzy,
unaware of his pending dismemberment,
gutting, and decapitation; poor bastard.
At home I foraged.
Would this bowl be better or this one?
And a blanket? Oh hell, two or three
old ones I pulled from the drawer.
Chelsea Fay Ray Princess 'Rat Dog' Buttercup
gazed on curious, still in her shell
as I made ready my heart
to nurture and love.
January 25, 2008 - Friday
your girl sometimes
I didn't mean to be
your girl sometimes
but it was a
second week thing
and never got better
oh but those nights of long hellos
and wallowing inside
each others heart;
mornings of reticent goodbyes
while you tried to sleep
after my failed efforts
on too sore flesh
madness
could you blame me
for wanting more
madness
but I was only your girl
sometimes
on occasion
when you called
except in my heart
where it's always.
January 22, 2008 - Tuesday
snake totem
One day a young girl came across a snake at rest in a warm dark place. It was a baby white snake, an albino with shiny light opaque blue eyes. She caught the snake by the tail, trying to carrying him away to a safer, more snake-like place in the bright sun. But the snake was crazed with its tail pinched between her thumb and forefinger and writhed until free.
The girl awoke from her dream to her bed, an intense fluttering along her neck between shoulder and ear. She moved each pillow one at a time, pulled back the covers, turned on the light, and found no snake.
That afternoon she was shopping, which she rarely does and found a dainty silver ring, a snake wound head to tail. His head, a light blue opaque stone. It fit her finger snug.
That night, the pain in her side worsened, she stopped to wonder and blushed a strange way of peace and sorrow for the life she would shed but smiled, a keen desire for the unknown.
January 16, 2008 - Wednesday
journalesque - The Heart of America is Breaking
My first day of teaching this semester, yesterday, I had left a class of fourth graders that jumped right into things. They were bright and engaged. The principal sat in, walked around, nodding, and the children beamed under his and our attention. I had little to do with four of us watching over like mother hens.
At three p.m. I frantically drove from Mesquite to Oak Cliff, only to walk in to a room of first and second graders. I had been expecting third and fourth. They were so little, so quiet and some, incredibly, visibly afraid. Ms. R, the main facilitator, was slowly engaging some to participate. A teacher came in to take names, the principal sat for a few minutes. Those previously engaged, found their shell again, began to retreat. I wanted to cry for them. Instead I set to work.
These are bright children; staring mute at the page, unable to write in English, yet when coaxed into Spanish, brightened and set to work. We are teaching these kids how to form sentences and paragraphs in order to pass tests when we have not given them the basic skills with which to communicate
The first day of teaching is a strange mix of confusion and sink-or-swim. We're only there for an hour a week for four to twelve weeks. So often I've just remembered everyone's name when it's time to leave them.
An hour a week is almost more than I can bear. The heart of America is breaking and it's a hard thing to watch.
January 13, 2008 - Sunday
morning
I thought to wake him with my mouth
my hand closer
but my proximity already had him stirred
and the rest
was gratuitous and greedy on my part
as I took what I pleased.
In six or eight weeks
you'll be gone and I
will exist on recollections of madness.
January 7, 2008 - Monday
Journalesque - a personal admittance
I didn't mean to be a poet but I suppose for anyone with the innate need to write, a broken soul that leads to broken thoughts leads to poetry. Thus my predilection for enjambment and verb noun displacement I suppose.
You're asking what the hell I'm talking about, how do you break a soul and if I didn't mean to be a poet, why have I written thousands of poems. (You haven't stalked me well enough if you haven't found my blogger.)
Many of you know my brother died in early 2002. Some have surmised from my writing and blatant admittance (if you paid attention) that I had to step up to adulthood and make the decision to end his life. It was difficult to watch my husband grow distant. It was difficult to see my father unsure and so frail. It was difficult to take such a thing on alone. And though no daughter should see her father as frail, no Father should have to end his son's life. So I did it. In the denotative sense of the word, I killed my brother. No, don't sugar coat it…it is what it is and your loose connotations of moral turpitude don't fly with me.
I didn't mean to go in to all of that but I'm in a funk and it has been almost six years since the funeral. Some strange things have happened: I cheated on my husband of sixteen years, got my first tattoo, divorced him, (he remarried awful quick for someone I apparently hurt beyond belief), I became a poet, my ex and I became good friends, I got my degree, went from four piercings to nine, got my second tattoo, quit my job to write, had five or six crushes along the way, took four lovers (three briefly and one…) I fell in love and let that love go.
And that's all after the age of thirty-two. Watching my brother die was the lowest point in my life, though, obviously. The low point of low points that made all the other low points seem like happy recollections. I am haunted daily: was it the right decision? I can't say but it was the decision I made. So…the broken soul…I started journaling seriously in early 2003 as a way to heal. I would have started sooner but it took me a year to stop crying every damn day, morning, noon and night. Journaling turned to poetry quickly.
So I didn't mean to be a poet. (But I'm sure Dahmer never meant to turn cannibal.) I set out to be a novelist; science fiction, fantasy, gore and yes, even romance though that latter genre bores me infinitely now. When I was young, I cut my teeth on C. J. Cherryh's "Drinking Sapphire Wine" and "Down Below Station", on Asimov and Heinlein and somewhere along the way, I became learned.
It's a silly thing but after Robert died, I whispered to his spirit, "I will live for both of us." I can finally admit it was not all his death that drove me to tears but the turning inward and facing – that I was not living. What I had was not a life but an existence.
You know, a broken bone can mend crooked when left unattended and sometimes has to be reset to heal straight.
I don't know. I suck at metaphors.
January 6, 2008 - Sunday
and her tail wags
she comes to me in the living room
dropping a mouth full of food at my feet
looks up at me
and proceeds to eat
one bite
then a glance my way
another bite
and a glance
then nuzzles my hand
as I turn to scratch hear ears
the top of her head
the soft spot between her eyes
she still doesn't trust me with the comb
but we have time
"what a good girl," I coo
and her tail wags till her body shakes.
January 5, 2008 - Saturday
the whole of the moon
In this winter of discontent
under the gray grey ash
of a once bright flame
lay red hot coals aglow;
a slow deep simmer
of a blushed heart free
and on the brink of a madness
well deserved.
January 4, 2008 - Friday
in absentia
I
pretty soon
there will be no one left to work the land
to walk the earth
to dream
to cry
for the others
for who they become.
II
I am in this limbo
graced
something brilliant gleams
in the corner
his words eat mine whole
I want
to be eaten whole
it was a very nice week
some of us never lose hope
but accept things as is
on some level
and then a thing happens
you question as is
only to realize
you want
you want this thing bad.
January 1, 2008 - Tuesday
knock knock
what do you do when your lover who is leaving in two months messages;
I love you
and your admiration for the thousand mile man is growing?
have coffee with cream and raw sugar
two toasted English muffins with whipped butter
write poetry that no one will ever read
strong in our being
some of us
are so strong in our being
we have no niche
no stereotype within which to find solace
and comfort
the confusion to others –
of our identity, their inability to label
or find basis for connotation –
leaves us in wanderlust
searching
and them
thinking we are not in need
and never understanding we do
want
desire
March 1, 2008 - Saturday
for Mandy, et al.
Some of us,
we are low, yet others?
Are coming into their well deserved good fortune;
All of us, though, we are blessed
with good hearts
and friends surrounding
that see
that love
that will endure the years.
February 28, 2008 - Thursday
with a taunting glare
I came across a day once
it was easy
low
drank my ice tea
with a taunting glare
and I ended up back fisting the son of a bitch
for being a tease
but my drink was gone
then the day was gone
but my itch was still there
February 24, 2008 - Sunday
oh ye strong women
There's a little heart
that shines
under years of dust
and grime
but no one cares to claim it
no one cares
to claim it
and the girl sleeps alone
February 20, 2008 - Wednesday
bright is her forced disposition
it is not a good tired
the kind that lets you sleep through
it is a senseless thing
where the mind never stills
and the body remains weary
February 12, 2008 - Tuesday
lyric
Sometimes<------- lovers leave<
and sometimes<-------
lovers leave>
but in between>----- was you and me
late nights early morns> and
oh------------------
sweaty sheets]
How<
we loved<
my baby>
Oh----------
How< you made me-----
blue>-------
conundrum
these last few months of disassociation
and the heart numbing toward him
and he is not going
and surely I will not let things go on as such
this last year and a half
but I adore him
I adore him
January 31, 2008 - Thursday
as I made ready
I waltzed in, quiet and low-key,
filled out paperwork
looked at the dog I chose
from countless others
and took her home. It all seemed so easy
I felt like a thief and left giddy, scot-free.
Then I took stock
while my new pup waited in the car:
leash, harness, food, comb, shampoo
stuffed snowman, new and fuzzy,
unaware of his pending dismemberment,
gutting, and decapitation; poor bastard.
At home I foraged.
Would this bowl be better or this one?
And a blanket? Oh hell, two or three
old ones I pulled from the drawer.
Chelsea Fay Ray Princess 'Rat Dog' Buttercup
gazed on curious, still in her shell
as I made ready my heart
to nurture and love.
January 25, 2008 - Friday
your girl sometimes
I didn't mean to be
your girl sometimes
but it was a
second week thing
and never got better
oh but those nights of long hellos
and wallowing inside
each others heart;
mornings of reticent goodbyes
while you tried to sleep
after my failed efforts
on too sore flesh
madness
could you blame me
for wanting more
madness
but I was only your girl
sometimes
on occasion
when you called
except in my heart
where it's always.
January 22, 2008 - Tuesday
snake totem
One day a young girl came across a snake at rest in a warm dark place. It was a baby white snake, an albino with shiny light opaque blue eyes. She caught the snake by the tail, trying to carrying him away to a safer, more snake-like place in the bright sun. But the snake was crazed with its tail pinched between her thumb and forefinger and writhed until free.
The girl awoke from her dream to her bed, an intense fluttering along her neck between shoulder and ear. She moved each pillow one at a time, pulled back the covers, turned on the light, and found no snake.
That afternoon she was shopping, which she rarely does and found a dainty silver ring, a snake wound head to tail. His head, a light blue opaque stone. It fit her finger snug.
That night, the pain in her side worsened, she stopped to wonder and blushed a strange way of peace and sorrow for the life she would shed but smiled, a keen desire for the unknown.
January 16, 2008 - Wednesday
journalesque - The Heart of America is Breaking
My first day of teaching this semester, yesterday, I had left a class of fourth graders that jumped right into things. They were bright and engaged. The principal sat in, walked around, nodding, and the children beamed under his and our attention. I had little to do with four of us watching over like mother hens.
At three p.m. I frantically drove from Mesquite to Oak Cliff, only to walk in to a room of first and second graders. I had been expecting third and fourth. They were so little, so quiet and some, incredibly, visibly afraid. Ms. R, the main facilitator, was slowly engaging some to participate. A teacher came in to take names, the principal sat for a few minutes. Those previously engaged, found their shell again, began to retreat. I wanted to cry for them. Instead I set to work.
These are bright children; staring mute at the page, unable to write in English, yet when coaxed into Spanish, brightened and set to work. We are teaching these kids how to form sentences and paragraphs in order to pass tests when we have not given them the basic skills with which to communicate
The first day of teaching is a strange mix of confusion and sink-or-swim. We're only there for an hour a week for four to twelve weeks. So often I've just remembered everyone's name when it's time to leave them.
An hour a week is almost more than I can bear. The heart of America is breaking and it's a hard thing to watch.
January 13, 2008 - Sunday
morning
I thought to wake him with my mouth
my hand closer
but my proximity already had him stirred
and the rest
was gratuitous and greedy on my part
as I took what I pleased.
In six or eight weeks
you'll be gone and I
will exist on recollections of madness.
January 7, 2008 - Monday
Journalesque - a personal admittance
I didn't mean to be a poet but I suppose for anyone with the innate need to write, a broken soul that leads to broken thoughts leads to poetry. Thus my predilection for enjambment and verb noun displacement I suppose.
You're asking what the hell I'm talking about, how do you break a soul and if I didn't mean to be a poet, why have I written thousands of poems. (You haven't stalked me well enough if you haven't found my blogger.)
Many of you know my brother died in early 2002. Some have surmised from my writing and blatant admittance (if you paid attention) that I had to step up to adulthood and make the decision to end his life. It was difficult to watch my husband grow distant. It was difficult to see my father unsure and so frail. It was difficult to take such a thing on alone. And though no daughter should see her father as frail, no Father should have to end his son's life. So I did it. In the denotative sense of the word, I killed my brother. No, don't sugar coat it…it is what it is and your loose connotations of moral turpitude don't fly with me.
I didn't mean to go in to all of that but I'm in a funk and it has been almost six years since the funeral. Some strange things have happened: I cheated on my husband of sixteen years, got my first tattoo, divorced him, (he remarried awful quick for someone I apparently hurt beyond belief), I became a poet, my ex and I became good friends, I got my degree, went from four piercings to nine, got my second tattoo, quit my job to write, had five or six crushes along the way, took four lovers (three briefly and one…) I fell in love and let that love go.
And that's all after the age of thirty-two. Watching my brother die was the lowest point in my life, though, obviously. The low point of low points that made all the other low points seem like happy recollections. I am haunted daily: was it the right decision? I can't say but it was the decision I made. So…the broken soul…I started journaling seriously in early 2003 as a way to heal. I would have started sooner but it took me a year to stop crying every damn day, morning, noon and night. Journaling turned to poetry quickly.
So I didn't mean to be a poet. (But I'm sure Dahmer never meant to turn cannibal.) I set out to be a novelist; science fiction, fantasy, gore and yes, even romance though that latter genre bores me infinitely now. When I was young, I cut my teeth on C. J. Cherryh's "Drinking Sapphire Wine" and "Down Below Station", on Asimov and Heinlein and somewhere along the way, I became learned.
It's a silly thing but after Robert died, I whispered to his spirit, "I will live for both of us." I can finally admit it was not all his death that drove me to tears but the turning inward and facing – that I was not living. What I had was not a life but an existence.
You know, a broken bone can mend crooked when left unattended and sometimes has to be reset to heal straight.
I don't know. I suck at metaphors.
January 6, 2008 - Sunday
and her tail wags
she comes to me in the living room
dropping a mouth full of food at my feet
looks up at me
and proceeds to eat
one bite
then a glance my way
another bite
and a glance
then nuzzles my hand
as I turn to scratch hear ears
the top of her head
the soft spot between her eyes
she still doesn't trust me with the comb
but we have time
"what a good girl," I coo
and her tail wags till her body shakes.
January 5, 2008 - Saturday
the whole of the moon
In this winter of discontent
under the gray grey ash
of a once bright flame
lay red hot coals aglow;
a slow deep simmer
of a blushed heart free
and on the brink of a madness
well deserved.
January 4, 2008 - Friday
in absentia
I
pretty soon
there will be no one left to work the land
to walk the earth
to dream
to cry
for the others
for who they become.
II
I am in this limbo
graced
something brilliant gleams
in the corner
his words eat mine whole
I want
to be eaten whole
it was a very nice week
some of us never lose hope
but accept things as is
on some level
and then a thing happens
you question as is
only to realize
you want
you want this thing bad.
January 1, 2008 - Tuesday
knock knock
what do you do when your lover who is leaving in two months messages;
I love you
and your admiration for the thousand mile man is growing?
have coffee with cream and raw sugar
two toasted English muffins with whipped butter
write poetry that no one will ever read
Saturday, December 29, 2007
yule and i came away cold but sure
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
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
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.