Jan 20 2020

sitting with all of it

because what choice do we have

and besides
the sun made a rare appearance this morning
dishes needed washing
we need to eat

and

some days
it’s fair to say

i’m tired.

part of me thinks
revolution
is for the young

and we’re all just
spinning

waiting
acting
watching
fighting

for
another
day

to stand
or soar
or sit with it all

once more

.

.

.

 


Jan 9 2020

hot flashes

I couldn’t sleep for weeks
and then I remembered that I needed to write.

Ariel was always a dream, but a wakeful one,
whispering pictures and posturing portent.

I don’t need to sing, my body
is always happy to do that for me.

There’s a fire burning inside me (literally)
at the same time there’s a fire
burning down the world.

I lay awake at night and rage at everything,
but in a peaceful way.

I eat grace for breakfast and anomaly for lunch.

Everything has too many calories.
Something else I have to burn.

I can only sleep when my feet are cool
and mine are scorching these sheets
like my mother’s old iron.

This room is never dark enough,
and I am never really here.

It doesn’t matter.

Matter is energy and I am combustible.
I float like a gas just south of the ceiling.

No one ever notices, which is funny.
Except when I get stuck in cobwebs.

I’ve lived in this house longer than I haven’t.
It’s small and tiny and we are always tripping over each other.

I trip over everything anyway.

It’s winter and I miss the sky.

The snow geese are down at the swamp screaming injustice.

On New Year’s Eve the fireworks gave them fits
and I smiled as I stood
alone in the center of road
as white sparks drifted down
like lost feathers.

.

.

.


Dec 31 2019

tapestry

i swallow purple and dream of bluebells
blanketing a field made of permanence

they put me under and i bleed in tandem
with color-blind heart
and restless fingers
tapping love songs to spiders
in starlit soliloquy

and we run
through red rivers
black oceans
dead forests

never out of breath
or short of currency

trailing ribbons
weaving knots
stitching sides

un
raveling

.

.

.


Nov 11 2017

these things take time

people say you’ve changed
and i say

hallelujah!

about time!

how high?

my feet got bigger
and my hips got wider
and crone was painted every
where i looked in
big red scary letters
or long retracted grey whispers
(and both sound exactly just the same)

i inherited all this anger
from the girl that came before
this rage
raging all around

i’ve been breathing rage
for a year now

a year that broke my heart
in every sideway possible
and screwed it back together
with those cheap screws
that break
when you crank too hard

that makes it sound worse than it was
that makes it sound easier than screaming
that makes it sound so grandiose

when really it was just hours
and minutes and tears and breathing
sweat equity pouring down my back
as i walked for miles and miles and miles
and never did get far enough away

i have calluses stronger than my silence
i have plastic words and a purple parachute
i have this empty body standing tall

and we all sag under the weight
of whittled-down survival

…..

this afternoon
the sky
was filled with geese

winter is coming

winter is coming

at night i hear these words
in the darkness

outside my window

inside my head

your voice

my voice

whisper scream

the possibility

of resurrection

.

.

.

 

 


Sep 22 2017

we have all
these pretty pictures

and all these temporary moments
but we crave permanence, don’t we?

i think that may be what makes us human

all these losses
broken promises
little hurts
deep wounds

stem from that desire

and the reality of truth
is always winning

say hello
wave goodbye

each night
each hour
each minute

say hello
wave goodbye

the morning glory
has just one day
to bloom

say hello
wave goodbye

but look
how she loves
the sky

.

.

.


Sep 11 2017

nine eleven

sixteen years later
that’s what we call it

not nine eleven oh one
not September 11, 2001
just
nine eleven

two words

three digits

two towers

four planes

thousands

of

mothers
fathers
daughters
sons
sisters
brothers
wives
husbands
aunts
uncles
girlfriends
boyfriends

not statistics

falling

from

the

sky

not dates
or where were you’s

just whole hearts
in odd numbers

each one

the only necessary

evidence

of love

::

.

I wrote this for the 10-year anniversary
of this tragic, horrid event.
I am re-posting it again today, in honor of all those hearts.
Never forget.

.


Aug 15 2017

wet

today

i walked
in the rain

thunder
hounding

feet
pounding

head held
high

going
nowhere

sorta
fast

.

.

.


Jul 11 2017

i made you my art, and then I remembered

i once
built a moon
on a red wall of chapter
singing verse and pressing mortar
into cracks and desperation

all scrabble fingered
and blister burned

pasting love and scraps of
survival
over lies and offered
fiction

all the while pretty singing

this is the light
we eat by

this is the light
i worship at night

this is the light
i fly to

burning wing and hemmed
betrayals

my own false idol
swinging from a string
in the blackest corner
of orion’s night

.

.

.


Jun 28 2017

mishap

as the crow
flies

through clouded
skies

my heart
will carry me
home

.

.

.


Apr 30 2017

it’s like this

there will always be days
stretched tight
by the too dry skin
of living

there will always
be evil
rubbing shoulders
with light

always be witches
dancing circles
at night

always a cloud
blotting out
the gold sun

always loss and possibility
mixing chance
in roiling ocean

it doesn’t have
to be enough

or even
filling

warmth is the illusion
of life

parody is pure
in the blossom of sight

and green things grow
from the cracks
in black ice

.

.

.