Monday, October 2, 2017

i remember when i wrote messages on your mirror
or kissed it with my red mouth
and i would see it again, another time until i washed it off
and we ate too much sushi and had sex under that
light project you decided to construct 
and i thought it was ugly and sort of childish but i applauded
your creative spirit
i liked your letters across the lake even though i couldn't
ever quite fully respond
i liked you just the same
we've always had a remarkable, unexplainable bond
one of those weird otherworldly passing in the night things
two ships, other lifetime things
i could taylor swift the shit out of this, here, right now
and say all these sparks, these beautiful bursts of light
of love, were kind and gentle and worn
but we both know they always leave someone more
than a little torn
and everything i gave has chipped away at me
my heart earmarked like a book
throat caught, a fish on a hook
it was lovely and meaningful and i have flashes
of memories
so much beauty, so much laughter, i give thanks
for times like these

oh today, today today.
you rocked me to my teeth.
tears by the end of it, what a wretched world it can be.
i listened to american girl and cried about that
all cylinders are spinning, life lost just like that
i think about my dear rose, my sparkling little teacups
the girl that touches my hand, studies my eyes and
shows up every day. every day with a smile and the
kind of demeanor that would meld water to oil
thinking about family and how music is a painful
beautiful unifying gift
what a shame what a shame what a shame
i meditated for a while and took some deep life-giving breaths
thankful for this minute here, for this tiny gift, for the good things
everything is negotiable, everything can change, part with the
things that destroy your calm, loved, beautiful ways
for me that is art over sadness
animals when all else fails or when everything is great
coffee as a refuge
love as a combatant
wishing no pain, no hurt
wishing no suffering or vengeance
not understanding things doesn't make it right to seek justice or act out of fear, retribution and pain
i'm saying these things to myself, with that deep breath
be calm
be calm
be calm
be true
be good

Monday, September 18, 2017

sitting here wondering why. how. where does time and reason begin.
i sat on the porch drinking white wine talking to my oldest friend
fairy lights, feeling just fine
sometimes our laughs are coated in fear
i can see the panic reflecting in her eyes
that girl- my heart - so dear

this sweet time, this tender night
this radical time, this buried light
i am no poet no expert no performer
not a wife nor a mother still a daughter and a friend

i tear through the glass and bleed a little every day
i wear down my shoes, brush my hair, try another way
i've found i know nearly nothing, don't depend on the good
just looking for answers, hoping for good

Monday, September 4, 2017

i have always felt the blues of summer into fall
it's an animal trap of a slow, burning variety
a sun that says 'so long'
a dark that greets your nights
i want to hear the cicadas singing with every
little last drop of my body
like honey
i feel the pounding stone of dread lodging it's
way up up up my spine nestling into that weird
place between your heart and your stomach
it feels like i can't swallow
it's the letting go, the change the acceptance
the return of worry and needless internalizing
for when the leaves turn crisp and the orange
sky remains i feel the peace in the newness
and familiarity of the season i love differently
but uniquely, then the last


Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there's nothing else to gaze on,
Set pieces and drop-curtain scenes galore,
Big mountains heaved to heaven, which the blinding sunsets blazon,
Black canyons where the rapids rip and roar?
Have you swept the visioned valley with the green stream streaking through it,
Searched the Vastness for a something you have lost?
Have you strung your soul to silence? Then for God's sake go and do it;
Hear the challenge, learn the lesson, pay the cost.
Have you wandered in the wilderness, the sage-brush desolation,
The bunch-grass levels where the cattle graze?
Have you whistled bits of rag-time at the end of all creation,
And learned to know the desert's little ways?
Page  31
Have you camped upon the foothills, have you galloped o'er the ranges,
Have you roamed the arid sun-lands through and through?
Have you chummed up with the mesa? Do you know its moods and changes?
Then listen to the Wild — it's calling you.
Have you known the Great White Silence, not a snow-gemmed twig aquiver?
(Eternal truths that shame our soothing lies.)
Have you broken trail on snowshoes? mushed your huskies up the river,
Dared the unknown, led the way, and clutched the prize?
Have you marked the map's void spaces, mingled with the mongrel races,
Felt the savage strength of brute in every thew?
And though grim as hell the worst is, can you round it off with curses?
Then hearken to the Wild — it's wanting you.
Have you suffered, starved and triumphed, groveled down, yet grasped at glory,
Grown bigger in the bigness of the whole?
"Done things" just for the doing, letting babblers tell the story,
Seeing through the nice veneer the naked soul?
Page  32
Have you seen God in His splendors, heard the text that nature renders?
(You'll never hear it in the family pew.)
The simple things, the true things, the silent men who do things —
Then listen to the Wild — it's calling you.

They have cradled you in custom, they have primed you with their preaching,
They have soaked you in convention through and through;
They have put you in a showcase; you're a credit to their teaching —
But can't you hear the Wild? — it's calling you.
Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us;
Let us journey to a lonely land I know.
There's a whisper on the night-wind, there's a star agleam to guide us,
And the Wild is calling, calling . . . let us go.

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

i am never quite where i think or thought i'd be
when does that shift
when can our minds accept the truth of change and the waves and the real
truth in the thick of it

i am afraid of being half of something, partially there
someone who is kind of good at some things and really just not anywhere
my heroes, the people that first put stars in my eyes
excelled so deeply, flourishing within their creativity and mind

i am hungry for that
and hungry with desire
to make and create and drive that unknown drive

i always feel sad this time of year
the end of the long vitamin d days of fuckery
running around and sunning like a cat on a porch
i feel the pain deeper in sad songs by september
the dread sinks sincerely into sunday nights
is it the loss?
the commitment?
the energy that undoubtably runs low.
the spirit THAT brings
i never wanted to sit down and stay put
i hated the way that september, october and november
always seem to look
i want the wings of the birds flying south
the ability to leave on a wednesday, come home with a
new heart, captivated eyes, a full mouth
i never seem to fit into the lifestyle of a kept working girl
fit in between the hours, the laws, the rules
it's a struggle to keep a light on in there
when it's summer and freedom and real love only three months a year

i remember when i wrote messages on your mirror or kissed it with my red mouth and i would see it again, another time until i washed...