10/30 Check Out

i’m done library lending
myself to disinterested readers
who want a story
but not the truth
not the cobwebs spinning
not the tears and bruise
they want to be entertained
and anything other
than that thing they want
they break my spine
re-shelf me crooked
call me liar and spent
hold expectation over my head
watch me jump
but not high and mighty enough
not good enough
to forestall the great waves
of disappointment left behind
above
in front of
it’s all very interesting
until it’s not
until it’s same shit different day
and my arms pinwheel
like I’m trying to hold the reader’s attention
trying to safe land, harbor home them
but my vocabulary strains the tongue
my geography lost on the pages
dog eared never to be revisited

I think I’m done with that
I think my branches have tried too hard
to reach the one who dare not be touched
dare not be this
you
why you try so hard
when you watch those reader
choose horror and chaos comic book
why you gotta be so not that
why do you care?

is it because that is how you are shaped
built
bred
because caring is how you navigate this world
built on other and destruction
so you destroy yourself in understanding
or trying to be understood
when you should care less
because if you did
they’d care more
cherish what’s not there
a quick read saying nothing
maybe you can be best seller
if you said nothing
think about it
what can they learn from you
when you've already been
cliff noted by you cover
why should they read
when they can just watch

tell them a story
one they can believe
one where no truth is evident
footnote the truths
no one reads those
the footnotes
no one cares where you come from

9/30 ranting again PET PEEVES

first let me begin by saying
we are not fighting
or rather i am not fighting with you
i just think some clarity
some light needs to shine
in this space
so you can see clearly
how much distance there really is
between us
and mind you i realize
that by the end of this
i will sound full of myself
fancy crackhead
who the fuck she think she is
and
i know you may not
have seen all of this coming
but since you think you know me so well,
maybe you should have expected it



do not begin to tell me
what i cheat myself out of
or who
i know what i've lost
kept every bandage
marked those hurts in ink
and stained
they are tattoed in places
you don't get to see
just because you want to
don't present yourself as treasure un-buried
tell me what i need to see
i have been a pirate longer
than you have been breathing
and am fully aware that
all that glitters
is not gold
and if you are really paying attention
you know i prefer silver
and if you are giving
it away
it can't be that valuable
i've got hand-me-downs of my own
i don't borrow trouble or other peoples dramas
my house has no room to store your shit

there are only a few rules to me
not complicated
and though i tend to put myself
in situations where taking advantage
of my kindness is possible
i sacrifice the bones
and heart muscles freely
and i know it's going to fucking hurt
but i make the decision to go down that road
not you

i appreciate honesty
skin that wants my touch
even if it's only in the moment
and those moments don't always last
regardless of how much I want them too
sometimes I linger long after dismissed
back tracking looking for missteps
that were never taken
maybe they just weren't taken with me
i fall fast and hard
and often
and if haven't fallen your way
there might be a reason

i don't let just anybody meet my kids
they love elephant like i do
you become family and needed and
if a connection is severed
we are a bum knee or toothache
we wonder about searching for remedies
to fix what cannot be fixed
it's a risk
and when i risk them
and i am wrong the guilt is a broken place
so no you will not meet my children
i have risked them for my sake to often
i have spent three years being wrong
if you don't believe they exist
then they don't
now that we have cleared that up
there are no children for you not to meet
don't ask
ever

and speaking of the children
i don't have that you will never meet
if you are old enough to be one of those children
who did not fall out of my vagina
you are not old enough to fall into my vagina
i am not being ageist or any other thing
you think i might be
i know my limitations
just respect that

i am not looking for anything
i don't want anything from you
these wounds have not healed
and i am not ready to settle
for what i do not want
the last time i settled
i lost my voice for a decade
the laryngitis left me empty
and i have no desire to be
invisible that way again

i'm working on the other parts
of me that are not seen
and yes i am flattered
that you see me all literal
and profile picture perfect
but i don't have the energy
or hope right now to dig
my way into a relationship
i don't believe in
maybe once i begin to stop
believing in the failures
but even then
you kinda fucked up by assuming you know me
by presuming you can just say anything to me
a foul attempt to shame me
because you think i should want you
as you finger wag in my direction
for plodding through my own shit

so even when i stop sulking
when the wounds have healed
as much as they ever do
i won't seek you out
because that ideal person you think you see
it's not me
i mean, i would never wear those colors

and i know what you are thinking
"she sound full of herself
fancy crackhead!
who the fuck she think she is"

8/30 Revival

in the church of poet
there are no pews
no tambourines
there are chairs
that have seen better days
a bar-stool or two or more
no pulpit
but music stands
and microphones
truth falls freely
sometimes
on it's own
sometimes
wrapped in bowdlerized lies
that look like something
we are running to or away from
heads bowed
praying for blessings
from muses we ignore
when the truth hurts too much
reveals too much
you cannot cover
surgery with band aids
or empty promise
of someday
turned never

I come here often
ears wide
reach within
show me more of something
anything
my only offering these words
confused and hurt
my skin hanging loosely
from bones grown weary
and heavy
when my legs
can't feel themselves
on knees I ask for forgiveness
sometimes they hear
they snap and the flies swarm my eyes
there is everything
and nothing in the moment
that sustains

head bowed
I hope to be strong enough
to hold myself together
keep the bad away
just today
just now
so I can breathe myself
whole again
this heart is too open
and everything buzzes and squeezes
every touch is bad
and my spirit cannot swim
not today
I give you my back
so the blade of you tongue
hits it mark
back handed compliments
and false sentiment
flavored tea steeped in lies
that taste no better
when they are expelled
over mics
or in porecelain toilets
where the water is blue
and I see myself floating
clockwise into no more
then refilled
revived to some degree
and sometimes not at all

7/30 Happy Hour

that time i told you i loved you
i meant it from the bottom of my glass
ice rattling like the bones wind chiming in your closet
you mistook me for salvation
for redemption, co-conspirator
for get away car

when we left our mess all over the floor
and on the walls the curtains rustled
told the neighbors there was problem
there were words thrown out with the baby and the bath water
they turned their heads as i turned away
there is a cost to living one foot in and out of closets

that time i told you i'd come by later
not to stay but to watch the sunrise between thighs
tiptoe through your tulips
never ever did forever seep through my pores
never did i tell you it was ok for you to connect
in the way that you did

we were trip wire waiting for explosion
messy with expectation
you expecting me to skeleton key myself invisible
me expecting you to be concrete
not some abstract version of affection
a panoramic view of fuckery

that time i told you i loved you
i meant it from the bottom of my glass

6/30 Playing with old poems that belong to other people

*It's official I'm depressed. Depression and insomnia. Not a great combo. Fuck!*


Monday’s child is full of face
and works double hard to keep the pace
to stay ahead remain on top
she runs her mouth it never stops
she forgets to eat and rarely sleeps
some stages will never feel her feet
she's working hard and wiping tears
remembers she's human faces her fears
and when the day is done she writes a poem
the only way to soothe her soul

Tuesday’s child is full of grace
she's tall, head high, a swagger in her gate
her progeny makes her full lips peel
a grin to show a pride so strong
her legacy, it will live on and on
family is priority for this girl with teeth
she brings home the bacon that she will also eat
the week is just starting so far so good
and when the day is done she writes a poem
the only way to soothe her soul

Wednesday’s child is full of woe
She works real hard not to let it show
But it’s on her face and it’s on her skin
She wonders if she’ll ever love again
It it’s worth taking down the walls she’s worked hard to erect
So her name once again sounds the same as reject
She forces a smile and hopes no one can see
and when the day is done she writes a poem
the only way to soothe her soul

Wednesday’s child has far to go
in which direction I doubt she knows
but she keeps moving despite the tears,
despite the lonely and the fears
she know if she stops she will cease to be
and believes no one will notice she’s taken her leave
so she jumps in the car and take long rides
and when the day is done she writes a poem
the only way to soothe her soul

Friday’s child is loving and giving
and angry and hurt and placidly forgiving
the week has turned long and her faith has gotten low
she has no one to talk to so nobody knows
she runs errands buys groceries and plans a great meal
today she has her son he makes her laugh and feel healed
his love has no sanctions, no conditions or trapdoors
and she knows in her heart this boy’s mom he adores
the only way to soothe her soul

Saturday’s child works hard for a living
She drives, she performs when venues are willing
this work that she does will put food on her table
she gives it her all and opens her heart
then at home she stares at the ceiling or cries in the dark
she is extremely happy and times ridiculously sad
she hope real soon that this shyt will pass (or at least even out)
and when the day is done she writes a poem
the only way to soothe her soul

Sunday’s child is fair and wise and good and gay
that pretty much sums it up and describes her to a “T”
though her fair may look different
her wisdom she doubts
she’s as good as she can be except that pirate part
and gay ????? she is very much that
and when the day is done she writes a poem
the only way to soothe her soul

5/30 Before You Dream

5/30 Before You Dream


before you dream of me tonight, you must first know

that the strongest muscle in proportion to its size in the human body is the tongue

I once held mine in the roof of my mouth for almost a decade now I appreciate its power



and a person cannot taste food unless it is mixed with saliva

every time I see you my mouth dries to desert

I haven’t had a tasty meal in months



and your stomach has to produce a new layer of mucus every two weeks

otherwise it will digest itself and thirty-five percent of the people who

use personal ads for dating are already married

my biological father used to take me on dates with the woman

he cheated on my mother with

I have tried to find someone not you

but I do not trust the process

I’ve seen what cheating does

I want no part of it



did you know a duck's quack doesn't echo, and no one knows why

I have screamed to the sky in nightmares

no one stirred

maybe in my dream I was a Teal

waters churning

if I drowned

who would know those times

I woke heart pounding



and banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour

I’ve been losing weight steadily these past months and I have a little headache



If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days,

you would have produced enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee

I start the day with at least two cups

for you I might consider switching to tea



butterflies taste with their feet

if I could forget the sound of my dad no longer breathing

maybe my hands wouldn’t shake so much

you once asked about my rings

I wear them to control the tremors



bullet proof vests, fire escapes, windshield wipers,

and laser printers were all invented by women

I have a scar on my forehead

I don’t remember the impact

or the passing out just waking

with blood in my eye



honey is the only food that doesn't spoil

and most lipstick contains fish scales
the first time I kissed you
that night I dreamed oceans and mermaids



*Teal is a type of duck

# 4 Cordwainer

# 4 Cordwainer

I never wanted quick fix in the moment
I wanted just sometimes
occasionally, every once in a while to know
that when you opened your mouth
something
anything resembling the truth would fall out
not the make believe
cheap wine induce
I’m going to make you believe this
version of happy bullshyt
you piled at my feet
and now look,
you have fucked up my shoes
yes you toyed with my emotions
a kid with new blocks
set me up and knocked me down proper
I’ll let you have the playtime
I should have known better than walk into your yard
damaged toys called ex littering the landscape
here a heart there a heart everywhere a heart, heart

but The shoes

you are paying for the fucking shoes
those innocent bystanders
minding their own business
forced to walk through all that bullshyt!
They deserved so much better.

3/30 for fifth graders who consider homicide when dealing with your own shit is just too much like enough

no one here was born with a manual
no instructions to guide us through
impressions given to us by the world around us
our village takes us at birth
place their hands around our mass
form us
maybe your village was preoccupied
with other things
with leave you on your own
let television and violent games grow you
maybe they should have paid more attention

when I was fifth grade
I was riding bike no helmet
hopscotch and double dutch
be home before the street lights come on
but be outside breathing air
feeling it on your skin
fall and fuck a Band-Aid
put some spit on it and shine
walk it off
I was too busy plotting out my next adventure
how my backyard was a paradise
others could earn entry
if they had the password
when bully was one
everyone knew its name
never looked it in the eye
gave it wide birth
and when the day came
and it called you by name
it would be the day
and at the end of the day
a bloody lip would heal
almost a relief because bully knew
there were other fish to fry
but never did I ever hear of guns
and rape
and premeditated murder
we were too busy kicking the can
and book mobilizing to our next adventure

what were you lacking?
who led you believe that the people
on this planet had to revere you?
what were you learning in that home,
that school of yours?
where is your village?
in my village
I raised three used to be fifth grader
who knew their worth came from within
and hard work
and keep your head up
and there may have been tears
hurt feelings
slaps to pride
but the hands that molded them
held comfort in a touch
support with a smile
or a pat on the back
they knew this world was not required
to love them or respect them
life is precious and time passes everyday
they were freeze tag
and mud pies
jump rope
and flag football
never knives
never guns
never rape
never premeditated murder
where is your village?
who and why didn't they love you
mold you
enough?

2/30 Miscommunication

those times I didn’t pay attention
my heart and mind wandering in different directions
I stumbled over the truth of you
the taste of you singed my tongue
I wanted more
my heart was all about this
pleasure is what it loves best
and pleasure is what she had designed for you
my mind thought you complicated
knew my simple ways
my cut and dry demeanor
it knows how easily my feelings get hurt
and how while I can speak about the injustices in the world
I am slow to come to my own defense
there was a meeting once
my heart was late as usual
at picking up on nuances after engaged
it can’t see the rejection until it hurts
leaves marks that builds walls and self-doubt
my mind remembers
sends down flairs of warning
distracted by the flames my heart mistook
it for burning
for passion
for love
for invitation to fall

1/30 The Problem With Giving Yourself a Pep Talk...

Rough Rant


the problem with giving yourself a pep talk
is that half way through the conversation
you begin to believe it’s all bullshit
like heard it all before
going to change your ways
quit repeating past mistakes
you are not insane
got a bead on the problem
it’s not you it’s them
it’s not over it’s just beginning
and you are mad because all around you is madness
and when they call you paranoid
you punch first and often
aim for their lying throat
because you see what you see despite the spin
the media machine and all the slant
the mass amnesia of forgotten home

and for the life of you
you can't understand
why they are holding their tongues
while yours is flapping flag and no one salutes
you feel the distortion, the rage
it bubbles fist clinched raised
they call you feminist and defensive like that’s a bad thing
when you tell them to go fuck themselves they
blame your disposition on PMS
then you remember where you live
how in this place your kind is just vessel
you are female
some see that as rape-able
breakable
commodity
you remember that talk you had with that cop
the cop who watched as a man let the air out of your tires
then lay in wait for your retuen dark night
that cop who waited and watched
as would be predator ran in terror because
he picked the wrong chick
on the wrong day
the chick who kicks and screams
when she know the tires are brand new
that chick who punches brick walls in an empty parking lots
smacked her chest and says what the fuck are you looking at
in the direction of his fleeing shadow
how he that cop sat and watched
and if it had been another day
and you were not that chick all spit fire and pissed
all brand new tire confident
distracted by the calm
he, that cop might have watched you victim,
raped,
robbed woman
later explaining to you
that how you were dressed made you made
dressing like some long haired sexy pirate
men find that attractive tone down your attractive
dress differently girl
woman
female
know your geography where you live
remember they are men they can't help what they do
remember weak ass Adam
remember the fruit
remember you are fruit
soft skin and sweet
ripe for the picking
pick you up off floor
off dirt road
off asphalt in well-lit parking lot
drag you across town
drag you across Ohio
on and off buses
piss on your skin
why you wearing your skin
look how you wearing that skin
it’s so tight that skin
the way it clings to all your parts
they can see you parts underneath all that skin
you know some men find skin sexy
why you out here wearing all that skin
you fruit
you woman
you asking to be peeled back and tasted
don't you know you are fruit and they don't
want you to own your tree
remember where you live
that you are female just like your daughters
it’s not you it’s them
it’s not over it’s just beginning
the problem with giving your daughters a pep talk
is that half way through the conversation
you begin to fear that they will believe it’s all bullshit
so you dig your roots in deeper
stand firm in your own tree
make them understand this is real

Been There Done That Twice! It's Your Turn!

The smell of change is in the air. Well, there is a smell and it might be change but the stench of intolerance is still pretty stinky. Lately I feel a bit overwhelmed by all of the symptoms of bigger problems. A totally different topic. Next post!

As a woman who has been married, twice, to men, twice and divorced, twice, for a while I was very convinced that marriage in any form was a kinda shiny enslavement. I got the ring and the kids but, I also got the mixed messages and the infidelity and a host of other things that could have been avoided had we just agreed to live in separate houses with conjugal visits and attempt to maintain some level of respect for each other. As I continue to mature, a little more each day, I realize that the idea of spending my life with someone who shares some of the same interests but still wants a level of independence appeals to me. Not in a "til death do us part" kind of way but in the, we are together when we agree to be together, you know, kind of way. Then we go to our personal spaces regroup come together, literally due to the conjugal, and support each other. I figure if we commit to each other you to me, me to you, then we are good. If you decide, or I decide that we like the topiary in another yard, respectfully we agree to go in different directions. Cut the dog in half, calender up the children and the like. Ha!!

No matter how you go about it when emotions are involved feelings will be hurt and even if it ends well, it's still an ending. My two marriages were two thing that should have never happened. Not because I wasn't in love, wait that first one was karma reminding me she knew my face, the second one? Yes, there was love in the second one!! Any way, I was very clear with both men when we were fucking, I mean dating? That I was very much against public proposals. Long fucking conversations about it, more than a few times. Both of these men proposed to me publicly, which should have been my clue that things would not end well. That simple act was the beginning of not respecting my wishes, my decisions or my feelings. I never said yes out loud to either of the proposals. I just watched as my family and friends "oooed" and "ahhhed" feeling and thinking, "No this motherfucker did not just do this!" But in the end there were dresses and rings and brooms to jump. It was also the beginning of me holding my tongue. In holding my tongue, I also stuffed my emotions and as a result, this woman who has to be reminded to eat on a daily basis went from a size 9 to 26. The day I spoke of my emancipation, it was like my first words and rebirth. A few months later without changing anything except my proximity to my future ex-husband I lost 150 pounds.

I know this doesn't sound like a "Yeah let's all get married" story or other happy shyt but, well there you have it.

I am now a very queer lesbian, and relationships with women are, and I din't think it was possible, more complicated than with men. I have met a few women I could see me spending lots of time with though I don't see me married again. But like I said, I am maturing a little more each day and I am a woman, I can change my mind if I fucking want to!!! I did once have a woman who lived in a closet elude to the possibility of marriage, but I figure if I came out of a closet why would I voluntarily go back into one? It's dark in there and there could be spiders. I think if someone wants to hitch there heart to another, "Until death do them part", no one, no government, should stand in the way of that.

5/30

I am doing that thing again
that hamster on the wheel
when I could be doing other things again
that why do I care more than you thing I do again
a part of me thinks I am preconditioned
pre you before me conditioned
and if you can’t see me
then maybe I am not there
conditioned
it’s not a charmed life
but there you have it
and there is not enough Cuervo
or Corona
to make this less mirage
make it less painful
make it less than the nothing
it was in its inception
and I imagine myself
sometimes sitting shotgun
to this bad ass lesbian
who knows what the fuck she is doing
we pretend not to notice each other
not to see the us in our eyes
every once in a while we slide
our eyes center see
that we resemble each others intentions
notice we own the same name
the same hands with rings
look away before we get too familiar
if you can’t see me
the way I can’t see me with you
I am pretty sure I am not there

4/30

Before and After



sunlight streaming
through my windows
brightly colored trees
feeling strange
awkward
lab specimen
under microscope
murderers and thieves
landscape shift
disappointment pours
waiting to crash
chunks of conversation
heard out of order
hardwood floor
beneath my feet
unanswered questions
stuck in my throat
guilty reflections
in my mirror
distortion of motion
frozen in time
cutting eyes
ironed out expressions
grin misplaced
a smile missing teeth
scars adjusted
darkness has passed
scars adjusted
a smile missing teeth
grin misplaced
ironed out expressions
cutting eyes
frozen in time
distortion of motion
in my mirror
guilty reflections
stuck in my throat
unanswered questions
beneath my feet
hardwood floors
heard out of order
chunks of conversation
waiting to crash
disappointment pours
landscapes shift
murderers and thieves
under microscope
lab specimen
awkward
feeling strange
brightly colored trees
through my window
sunlight steaming

3/30

Salem South (3/30)

When he came home for lunch that day, it was just lunch.
Not an event that would leave seventeen families nomads.
It was just lunch. I am sure he did not mean to leave the skillet

used to fry burger, well done smoldering on burner. It was just
lunch. Not some event that would lead to devastation.
Just lunch. When the stay at home moms and dad saw
the smoke signals, when they broke down the door.

Someone must have panicked.
Someone must have panicked.
Everyone knows you do not throw water on a grease fire.
Everyone knows that, right?

Someone threw water on a grease fire and the
flames crawled up the walls like a rash. Seeking higher

purchase. Seeking attic space full of oxygen. Fire loves
oxygen that is how it learns to breathe out loud. Seventeen
families will lose everything. Sixteen families will loose everything.
The seventeenth family will recover some.

There is nothing more frightening than light bulbs exploding
and firemen demanding that you leave. My brother and I
made twin bed canoe stowed precious belongings inside
rode it down the stairs. Exiting.

It all went up. All went up in flames over lunch.
We sat on canoe bed refuge eating the Jell-O my sister saved.
Watched all we had burn. Watched water rise to levels
that seemed impossible, It was only lunch.

When the Red Cross came they put us in a hotel. We showered.
Could not wash smoke from our skin. Could not wash smoke
from our skin, our hair for weeks. I remembered the story.

The story told by my mother about the phoenix.
How it burst into flames and rose from it’s ashes.
I want to ask her if ashes from a rushed lunch counted.
Wondered if we could rise from the ashes that were now
our life. Wondered if I could ever stomach lunch again.

2/30

Legitimized

The parking lot was well lit.
The passers-by pretended not to see.
My mother’s long hair fist snatched
by unknown father’s rough hands.
There was no foreplay.
No music.
The only sounds were scuffle and scream.
Nothing shut down.
The fear kept everything present.
Had I known I would become the gift of God
in this violent act, I would have chosen not to come.
I came when he did.
Became ward of the state at the exact moment.
A deal struck.
Two parents unknown to me.
This blessing,
curse,
gift from God.

1/30

Background


My only regret is that I let you take her. Let you
sway bend her view of me. I believed she was
bullshyt proof. You proved me wrong. She lacked
the faith in me that I once lacked in myself, so
I understand on a level. I believe what happened
was supposed to happen they way it happened.

Turns out lies have a shelf life. The passion you
showed while damning my name confused the
listeners. They could not tell if you hated me or
wanted to fuck me. I think it was both. Turns out
I have a type. I let you take my type away.
Let you fuck us both over, and not in the fun way.

Turns out regrets wear the same eyes in the light.
She sees me from time to time. Wants to approach
but can’t get past the no resting in my eyes. Your
eyes were so focused on me you couldn’t appreciate
the treasure that you stole.
My only regret is that I let you take her.

National Poetry or Novel Writing Month

I am going to make an honest effort to get through the whole month. I have a lot of stuff this month but I am my own business so I have got to work it!! I will be revising older stuff left neglected too long and sharing some prose as well. I have another story for Cheyenne, but that's my other blog. So, Here. We. Go.

Astigmatism

Astigmatism


I know that we are not born into this life
wearing rose tinted glasses.
We enter twenty- twenty seeing all being all.
So I don’t expect rose colored vision.

I have this ailment.
I seek perfection in every heart I love.
All of the bells and whistles, all the flowers even the thorns.
But, when I see, when I think of you all I see
all I feel are contradictions full of broken glass promises
severed ties and a concussed heart .

I also know that some people are dead
even when they are alive.

I am told I was your favorite.
I believe this is a lie.
Seeing that biology will forever tether us
the distance has not made you grow fonder .
I am angry with you.
You are alive, the man who was supposed to love me
while the man who really loved me is dead.

You couldn’t see the value in us,
in me. Not the way that he did and I can’t see you
in my future. My daddy is dead, while my father,
is very much alive. I don’t fool myself into thinking
that we, that I, ever meant anything to you.
My siblings think me hardened by your rejection.
They think I should just let it go. If I could let it go,
we could all get along. Can we all just get along?

Maybe it’s because their eyes never bared witness,
never saw your cheating layered lies.
Never saw the way you stood justified
when you knew your body still wreaked
of another woman’s scent, as you put
your fist to my mother’s face.
Maybe they don’t remember you
telling our mother that everything she touched
would fail as she held us all in the touch
of her trembling reality. They don’t remember
you labeled us failure. I remember.
I can’t not remember.

Why couldn’t you have been him.
The man who wanted us despite where we sprung .
The man who was not perfect , knew we were not
perfect and called us family anyway. Called us success.
Why is he dead and not you?

Yeah, I am pretty fucking angry.
I am disappointed. I am also my mother’s child,
my fathers mistake and my daddy’s executioner,
there are so many things wrong with this picture.

Times like this, I long for rose tint. Just to see this life
as the gods intended full of life and breath and hope.
I know why I seek perfect love in every heart I love, I
just want to know what it looks like. I just want it to look
me in the face and love me back.

I know that some people are dead even when they are alive.
I will not allow this to make me living dead. I will not allow
this to make me mute magic in a constant state of mourning.
So, I will forgive you. Wash me from all this anger, ensuring
that your prophecy will never come true, because I am not failure.
Thanks to you I am the definition of success!

Like-Like

When she touched me the way she touched me.
I liked it. I told her that I liked it. She told me she knew I would.
I said I’d like-like more, please.
“Like-Like?” her smile repeated, “What’s that?”
So, I untangle myself from herself and I told her
what I am about to tell you.

As it was explained to me by my twelve year old son
there are two kinds of like. There is like and there is like-like.
Like is, “I like you.” Like-like is, “Yeah, I LIKE you.”
He is explaining the phenomenon of “like” to me
because he like-likes a girl at school. He tells me how
pretty she is, how they sat together at lunch
and had a conversation. She is so smart and,
“Mom” he says, “she is so nice. I like-like her.”

My heart swells, crashes partly because he is more like me
than I imagined, and mostly because he is more like me
than he knows. I, like him, am a sucker for a beautiful,
smart girl who eats food and can have a conversation.
I also sweep up the shattered shards of my heart
every time a girl breaks it. My son will have his heart
broken a lot. He is just like his mother.

I want to warn him. Explain what the hopeless
in hopeless romantic really means, but I don’t really
believe that shit. I will not believe that romance,
in love or like-like is hopeless. I love the way his face
breaks open when he talks about sharing ideas
with this girl he like-likes. The way he wants to give her art.
I don’t care that he uses all of my paint. He wants to gives her art.
He is just like his mother. The day he stars penning poems
I will arrange the intervention. He gives her art, and he +art
is his heart and she will break it.

When it happens we will snuggle on the couch,
eat comfort food as we commiserate. I will have ice cream
he will eat those Cheetoes that bear no resemblance
to any color on the wheel. We will hold each other up.
The way he held me up when heartbreak just looked like
mom is sad. He brought me cookies back then, a small bite
taken out of each. Making sure they were good and
would not hurt me.

The day he comes home and tells me the girl refused his gift.
He calls his hard work, his consideration, and his art junk.
He tells me he is stupid and that he thought they were friends.
He wishes he could have known some how that she didn’t
like-like him the way he like-liked her. I ask if I can have his heart.
His art. I tell him I like-like him just fine. I wonder if this will jade him.
Before I can get to lost in that thought he tells me about the girl
who sits next to him in science. “She’s pretty mom and she doesn’t
make girly noises when we do something gross in class.
I like her, not like-like, just like.” he says.
I think, “Son you will like-like her soon, because you are so full of hope.
You are just like your mother.”

After the story my girl, she whispers in my ear
tells me she likes-likes me a giggle on her tongue.
I know she will break my heart, but I have hope.
I am just like my son.

So, when she touches me the way she touches me.
I like it. I tell her I like it. She tells me she knew I would.
I say I’d like-like more, please.

On Holding Your Tongue

On Holding Your Tongue


She thinks she remembers the way the girls hands hovered.
She wanted to know the touch of them. Wanted to feel fingers
massaging her memories back to before she forgot
to pay attention. Bit her lips pretended it was the girls kiss.

Morning on the other side of I miss you is not her happy place.
On those mornings she sleepwalks her way to forgiveness
gets stuck in regret and barely manages to keep her bones
above quicksand. She checks her pockets. Finds her tongue
attempts to re-anchor it so she can finally speak. It’s a bad fit.
Falls to the floor. She can’t remember the last time beauty
made her jaw drop.

The girl with the hovering hands wore an apprehensive smile.
Mona Lisa, but darker. The girl held secrets between her thighs
and sometimes when they shared she knew everything.
She would float sometimes, the girl with hovering hands,
hold clouds between her teeth. She would blow kisses
over her right shoulder. She thinks she remembers catching
those kisses. Placing them in her pocket right next to her tongue
promising to blow them back to the girl once she figured out
how to disguise blood spatter.

She thinks she remembers why things failed. The girl with
the apprehensive smile never knew that she cut out her tongue
so she’d never say anything to drive her away. So the girl,
her hands and her smile mistook silence for disinterest
instead of the adoration it was born to be. She thinks she
remembers trying to speak. No sound came.

Midnight on the other side of I miss you is failing moonlight
and false memories. Those nights she roams an empty house
checking the corners for hovering hands. She collects the dust she finds
sprinkles it on her open wound heart and hopes for concrete. She fumbles
with sewing needles and razor wire trying to stitch back her tongue
so she can finally say what she feels unafraid of letting the blood show.
She thinks she won’t forget this time because she can’t remember

Familiar Territory

I think I know me.
I think I do, but I have thought this before.
I was wrong.
The time before this time, I threw caution to the wind
and learned regret. I don't ever want to repeat that time and yet I do.
Every time I convince myself that I am not enough.
I am doing it again.
When helplessness wears me,
strolls around like she knows me better
I give in. She knows I will. The problem with living this life
is I forget I have feelings sometimes,
forget the impact of punches to
the head the heart.
I believe what others believe
especially when I know it is not true.
I want them to tell me it
is not true.
They never do.
I think,
I want more than this,
I think, but
I have thought this before.
I was wrong.
And I am terrified that I am wrong
again.

4/30

the corners are dirt free
nothing lingers like your smile
hanging in the brances of trees
covering everything in comfort
cleaning is the word of the day
free up some space arms lenght
the moat surrounding full of things with teeth
they bite whatever comes near
hands hearts anything with flesh
clean to the bone even the bones
makeshift mourning tears are not welcomed
night holds close
no detritus can be seen
even when it litters
the corners are dirt free

Smdh

Temporary love called me by name last night. And in the midst of skin clad comfort hands searching for just one more time for old times sakes, an image of you pops into my head. I am doomed!

I am also trying not to love backwards. It would have been a great release, I think. Where is my inner harlot when I need her?

The Flaw

“When unrequited love is the most expensive thing on the menu, sometimes you settle for the daily special.”
― Miranda Kenneally


A piece of a tooth broke loose today. I am reminded that at the moment I have no real health insurance and while distressing, the tooth doesn't have any real pain associated with the loss of the piece. I attribute the ache in my jaw with clenching my teeth and worrying at what is left. I was not meant to have a mouth full of perfect teeth. Maybe if in my youth I'd have taken better care, maybe if with my first pregnancy I had realized how completely the baby takes everything it needs first, maybe if I had stayed in a relationship built in failure, but rot with health benefits maybe then I would have been blessed with pearly whites that flash against the dark of the not so perfect life I would have been privy to. Pretty teeth, but a very awful existence. Not for me. Not for my children.

This is not the first broken tooth I have ever had and I am fairly sure it won't be the last, and teeth are not the only broken things that have laced my life. As humans we all have the luxury of being flawed. Some will attempt to fix those visible flaws, give the appearance of perfection or physical flawless but it's a kind of band-aid. If looked at in the right light the flaw can still be seen. Some flaws are acquired like debt. Like memory. Like regret. My teeth are flawed but it's my heart I worry about.

Is it possible that denying myself love when it was first presented has doomed me to never have it? I don't want to believe that but there are days when the notion slaps at me and well, it gets my attention. I do not believe that I am in love now, but the idea that I could one day be intrigues and terrifies. I am not so much terrified of being in love but I am truly terrified of being rejected. So my usual tactic is to cleverly, I think I'm being cleaver, run from it. Not in a fast paced, heavy breathing kind of way but more a pretend I don't feel and am not bothered, or hurt but responses or lack of response to any expression of interest or affections I offer. A flaw. This has never worked in the past and I don't disillusion myself by thinking it will happen for the twentieth time, it won't, I know this, but still. I am human and to deny that wanting would create yet another flaw and I am all flawed up right now. No need to keep piling them on when I have a stockpile already.


My son, who struggles with my sexuality, has lately taken to asking me if I am happy several times a day when we are together. So my veneer has cracked and I am no longer capable of keeping the lonely out of my eyes. Another flaw. Seems I'm chock full of them these days. I know it is unrealistic to think that the children I have raised will not pick up on my moods, I mean I raised them to feel, not a flaw. The lonely can be taken care of. And who knows in the pursuit of chasing away lonely I might run into a heart that wants to run into my heart. Maybe, maybe not. I haven't tried because I think I know what I want. But I don't have a great track record of getting what I want so maybe the additional flaw is that I really have no idea what I want. So I will assuage my lonely with the soft skin of another who wants nothing from me, which seems appropriate since I don't seem to know what I want for myself.

This feeling of inadequate, I don't consider a flaw. I am human, and humans all over the globe have felt this feeling. I do worry that I'll get stuck here and lose pieces of my heart but unlike the broken tooth, more breaking of my already flawed and broken heart will be pain I can't ignore and no amount of healthcare can fix that. especially since I don't have any healthcare right now.

Poem I found cleaning out my notes on my Ipad written 347 days ago

if you were everything I needed
I wouldn’t be writing this now
I couldn’t be writing this now
I was trying to have a goddamn conversation
with you but it was about art and you don’t do art
and it was about politics but you don’t do politics
and me wanting to take you out on a date do something
other than fuck for a change
and I say theater,
you say movie
I say a play
you say I don’t do plays
and I ask why?

and you say let’s just be close
then you go to rubbing and shit
taking advantage of my sexual adhd
and suddenly we are fucking again
and you are letting me
and I am letting you
and belts are breaking
beds are breaking
and then you are passed out
and I am laid up next to you writing a poem
about how I don’t need to be with you
and the fact that we can’t even talk about this
because this is not the first time I’ve broached the subject
and the distance between us is further than it appears
close enough for fingers to stroke clits
but never close enough to meet in the mind
cause you don’t do that
and I haven’t approached a conversation
with you in the last six months
without a fucking drink in my throat
because it was the only way you made sense
and the distance between us is addiction
we crave the separateness like alcoholics
craving a fifth of whatever's cheapest

you want my touch less than I want to give it to you
and this is how we've stuck ourselves
into an existence neither of us will walk away from
because we don’t know how
even though we know we are not who we used to be
and the best thing about us is bottom beauty and strap-ons
and because I am hopeless romantic and you are lazy
the way we lie,
the way we lie here
it is almost believable
almost

soon there will be nothing left to anchor
us to each other we are going to crash
and burn and drown and I don't imagine
you reaching out or throwing me a life preserver
why would you save me when you couldn't
wouldn't save yourself from me
this shine we've put on this shitty relationship
should shame us both and the fact that I am
in bed with you listening to you snore
writing a poem that you will never read
because you don’t do art
makes me realize how blind we are to the reality
that we actually don't like each other

I love you like a root canal is not sexy
neither is I love you like an exit wound
we are sick in need of a twelve step program
one where we walk away from each other slowly at first
then run like hell and never look back
when you told me you loved me
I was splayed beneath you all moan and cum
I wasn’t even wearing my charm
and I noticed you never loved me with my clothes on

old dog new shyt

I let myself feel again and no good ever comes from that. But I figure if I want someone to love me I should probably take better care of me, and If that's not enough then it's not enough. I have been lonely before and maybe with all the changes I don't have those other things in place in my life for me not to notice the lonely.I'm not dealing with kids, on the road, so I notice. I am looking forward to being away. It hurts when there is no contact and I don't handle that emotion very well. I think people think that I am so self reliant that I don't feel things like lonely or alone. I think honestly if it weren't for the fact that my child is in the house with me, if I died in my sleep it would be weeks before any of my friends, associates, whatever we are calling them these days, called or came by to check on me. That is what hurts the most. No one loves me even remotely like that. My last two relationships didn't love me like that. What does that say about me?

On Marriage

When you spoke of marriage
I didn’t flinch
I wore no frown
I just listened
part of me felt this is just a test
but I listened while you painted fairytale images
of faraway places
a porch with a swing
no neighbors for miles
just you and me

I didn’t interrupt
I never let you see the shadows of doubt
but I wondered how you could dream of marriage
when you live in closets

your love is a secret
best shared in dark rooms
if any one finds out your first line of defense
is to shake keys and lies that rattle like regret
slam shut the door lock
down emotions and pretend
I don’t exist

how can you want to marry someone
you can’t show off on your arms
in your arms
someone you are afraid to kiss
with the lights on
how can you see forever
and close yourself off
from the world at the same time

so when you spoke of marriage
lover
I didn’t flinch
I wore no frown
I just listened
part of me felt this is just a test
how can you speak of marriage
when we both know
there was no room in your closet for two

damn

so, self reflection is probably
not what you want to do
when what you want to do
is pretend it didn't happen
that you aren't your own worst enemy
and your insecurity is baffling
even to yourself so it quite
possibly stumps the rest
punctuation has no place here
because i just keep running and ruining
i had a pep talk with my kid last night
i was so worried i'd do something wrong
that i wouldn't control myself
she told me what not to do
and guess what
i could not control myself
i won't tell them how fucked up i have made things
it's the first time they were happy with my choices
they will hate me for sure when i tell them
so the girl with issues about being alone
fearful of it in fact
has the uncanny skill of pushing people away

i gotta get busy
i gotta get going
i gotta stop hurting the people i love
i gotta stop hurting myself

when exactly do the tears run out
and what the fuck am i going to do with this headache

i wanna smoke, i'm not going to
my new bedroom is so dark
like a little cave
ill stay here until the kids start to worry
then i'll pretend everything is fine

again

i have fucked up for sure. i have never acknowledged a crush til now, and i should never do it again. i am miserable. i have never felt so helpless as i feel right now. and all could have been avoided. should have been avoided. you are friends. just friends. the sooner you acknowledge this the sooner you can stop crying yourself to sleep at night, the sooner you can stop inserting yourself... remember that time when you didn't care. if you could just get back to when you didn't care. then you never cried yourself to sleep, never felt so small. remember that! i know. we worked at being soft, open, and it hurts. can we close ourself off again? then you can just be a friend. people like you better when you are just a friend. i am tired of feeling like i don't know myself. i am tired of being sad. so tired.

For Real?

So after over twenty years of working at Horizons School they are arguing that I should not be eligible for unemployment. I'd like to say I am surprised but I am not. Common respect died there ten years ago. I stayed believing in the program I helped create, thinking that I was doing my part to empower my students. The next step... is an ugly one. The one thing I tried to make sure my students knew without a doubt, was that they have value and they have voices. Let no one devalue you and make your voice loud! I practice what I preach. I think it would be different if I showed up to work drunk. Oh, wait, If I did that I'd still be employed. Or killed a llama. Oh, wait, If I did that I'd be running things. Being let go is not so much my issue, but I do take issue with not doing the right thing.

a thought

I have not been this lonely in a long time. It pretty much sucks

Locker Rooms and Fairy-Tales

Locker Rooms and Fairy-Tales we could never get our combination just right 19 – 24 – 42 42 this number splashed across your chest I didn’t see it right away But later it will hang banner like in my mind You were wearing that number when I out-ted us both My skinny legs Wearing cheerleader garb You would be angry for a time We will make up like benediction before the fact You will leave Later you will return Only to leave again Proving That even the most hungry of hearts Can be broken twice And learn on live on I don’t know this back then Recall it now in perfect pitch Listen For the punch line 42 – 24- 19 19 I was nineteen when I rolled up on campus A Prince in purgatory A non conformist They will not get me here And you Weeks later Would get me here Slam my brain against my heart Later it will become relevant I learned the definition of infatuated It rolled off my lips landed between your thighs I learned pleasure in two tongues’ yours and mine conversing daily sometimes more than once I became fluent You dug that shit Soon you will leave I will be devastated While pretending not to be 19 19 – 42- 24 24 twenty-four years later social media will do what I could not find you in 24 hours something I hadn’t managed in 24 years I ask if you are you You tell me you are And we fall back into patterns of 19 and 42 You would think we were discovering new lands Instead of plotting old paths No compass just reaction Fairy-tale mentality mixed with heat We got two years out of it Two years of mixed emotions and regret Two years of why did we think we could go back I wonder If I had found you 24 years before 42 would not have been an issue We might have had 19 years of bliss Or not, but we will never know we could never get our combination just right

Me feeling insecure

If I thought about it
And I'm not saying I think about it
But if I thought about it
I might think that I thought too late
Hung up on regret and what if
As I hang myself on what if
Regret
I am not new at this
Not old at this
What is this?
What am I doing wrong?
Something is wrong
Or maybe it's right and
I don't recognize it because
Things here have never been right like that.

I have never been here before
And maybe I have
Can't remember
And maybe it wasn't me
And maybe
Maybe
This is that thing I was
Warned about
You follow too close
You feel when feelings are not
A part of the plan

Did you plan?
Of course you didn't
That would be normal
And when was the last time
You were normal...
Like never,
Like maybe now
Like no
Like stop
Like you are doing too much
And no one cares if you feel
So don't feel
Put it away like you do,
Did the other things
Put it away.
No one wants to see
No one wants this
Just you.
Put it away
Pretend you never
It never
You were never ever here..
Shhhhhhhhhhh
Go to sleep now
You are so tired
And no one wants to see.
Especially the one you want to see
You are doing too much,
Again,
You are doing it again!
Go to sleep!
For real this time.
Goodnight

Realizations

I had a moment this week when I considered the weight of all the shyt I have to do this month. it was a moment of slight terror mixed with "what the fuck?" So many changes at one time. So much shedding so much new, none of it terrible. I own entirely to many books. There is now way I will be able to house them all. Besides I'd rather see them resting on a bed stand owned by a young avid reader. I have acquired so much in so many years. A metaphor, perhaps. About more than stuff and more about stuff. Yes. I am still feeling slightly overwhelmed. So much editing and not as much time as I'd like. I am going to make it work. I will make it right. I might be crazy on the other side of it but, well, we always knew that was a possibility. Send good thoughts!

24/ 30 Masterpiece

24/30 masterpiece       When we touched that last time. I tricked myself into thinking it was a good thing. Relaxed into the letting. Took down my hair so your fingers could play. It felt good. Because I didn't know it was the last time. I let   you touch. All of my stuff. You left your finger prints as evidence. At the base of my spine. Never questioning motive. Never believing a touch as gentle as yours could sting leave marks that can only be seen in flashback memories. I thought we were moving towards some new definition. Some new name we would call ourselves.   The notion that you were using my skin as cover, to hinge a door you would close. Me on the other side. No key offered as payment. A sign hung crooked on your intentions. No this girl allowed. Never seemed possible.   Do I still love you?   A questionI keep posing to myself. When I answer, I suspect I am lying.   When we touched that last time. I wish I had been present enough to know what was happening. Maybe I could have seen what was excavated, what was archived, what parts of me were museum-ed to memory Then maybe. Maybe then. I would have registered an ending. I still would not have been prepared.

today

yesterday, i officiated my first ever wedding! it was so very beautiful and some folk know of my aversion the the "M" word, being a part of this process has softened my heart in some ways. i had a date. she stood me up. it's ok but then it's not ok. it was a really big deal and i spent a lot of quality time preparing my words, would have been nice to have someone there. i don't know if it's me or not. i get the whole come closer go away vibe from this person and maybe i should take the hint. i have no idea how to date and it is possible that my radar is a bit fucked up as far as figuring out if someone really wants to get to know you. up until this point, my dating was a series of what should have been one night stands that just went on, and on, and on.... so here i am trying to switch it. do it right. and here we are. maybe my timing is off (it's been off for a while), or maybe she's just not that into me. could happen. i am suffering from sever loneliness and maybe that gives me the appearance of desperate. i don't feel desperate but maybe that is the vibe i'm sharing. going to leave it alone for now. not going to ask anyone out for a while. i do feel i need to learn how to deal with rejection, but damn!

i know

i fell off. said i was going to update. i lied. not on purpose, but what are you gonna do?
here is # 15 NO HOMO. I wrote it in response to hearing that phrase and well...here ya go



No Homo

A member of the genus Homo,
which includes the extinct and extant species of human beings
characterized by superior intelligence,
articulate speech, and erect carriage
also a loanword,
a prefix,
meaning the same


that can’t be
from the moment we are evicted from the womb
we are taught, instructed, threatened
to be different
draw your own lines in the sand
create your own existence
be unique
be different

if we were all the same
our moon would orbit the same earth
our rights equally protected
because we are the same
but we are different
not the same
or
no homo

no superior intelligence
no articulate speech
no erect carriage
no species of human
no sense
the words
make no sense
to me

well,
I guess it makes just about enough sense
as if my students
arms raised in protest
thesauruses
dictionaries
strewn about the floor
spines broken

they roil
overcooked alphabet soup
letters sloshing off their sides
fists punching the sky
making their agenda known
declaring in loud voices

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN
THERE ARE WORDS THAT SOUND THE SAME
BUT SPELLED DIFFERENTLY
HAVE DIFFERENT MEANINGS

AND THOSE OTHER WORDS
THOSE WORDS
DRESSED IN NEWSPRINT AND BINDINGS
THOSE WORDS THAT ARE SPELLED,
LOOK, SOUND
EXACTLY LIKE
THOSE OTHER WORDS
BUT HAVE THE AUDACITY TO MEAN
DIFFERENT THINGS

THEY ARE PRETENDING TO BE SOMETHING
THEY ARE NOT
WE WILL NO LONGER HONOR THEIR PRESENCE
WE WILL NO LONGER SPEAK THEIR SYLLABLES
NO HOMONYMS
NO HOMOGRAPHS

NO HOMO
NO SAME

and well, that makes sense

when I hear those words in your song your poem
I get the feeling you are
declaring your own agenda
expressing your fear of sharing sameness
with people who sexually prefer
the same people
those
no hetero's

you are roiling
overcooked alphabet soup
the letters sloshing over your sides
lqbtqai
I stop listening
because your world is so small
your views are so narrow
there is no room for me

a member of the genus Homo,
which includes the extinct and extant species
of humans beings
characterized
by my superior intelligence
my articulate speech
and this erect carriage

and you are right
we are no homo
we are not the
same

anathema 6/30

anathema 6/30

voices raised intensely
attempt to assuage blood lust
spinning disdain pushing buttons
mortified
fists aloft
exudes displeasure
unjust
unfair
emotions vacillate
indecision about what’s more important
reiterating rhetoric
because if it’s repeated
it is truth
it is just
it is fair

how therapeutic
this atrophy of marching in the moment
this outrage at heinous behavior
this indoctrination of misdirection
spin dizzy
follow the smoke

they hope you don't notice
in the interim

all of the flames licking your back

Insight 5/30

Insight 5/30


it is dark

it is always dark
when we meet
you will tell me
it is for our own good
when we touch
we just do it
a passion takes over
it is clumsy and rough
it is close but distant
it is dark

I will ask if you are ashamed of me
you will paint pictures so vibrant
I must be apart of the landscape
I will forget my question, can’t see it
it is dark

we will merge
not under street light
too much illumination
you will drag me shadow
pull me close
it is dark

I will make the first move
you will counter
we will be arms and anchor
tomorrow and never
you will tell me you love me
I will not believe
it is dark

we will make ourselves frantic
turn crazy in to cravings
you will forget my name
I will convince myself
that it was because
it was dark

you will notice the sky
a detailed missed by me
staring into dislocated eyes
you will attempt to leave
I will protest
you will ignore
I will tell myself this is happening
because
it is dark

you will leave
the sun will show her face
I will resolve to find
that one who is willing to
love me
in the light

I have grown tired
of living
in the dark

Doors 4/30

Doors 4/30


I can feel the vibrations in my bones
feel the breath in my body
as I float over everything
there are moments when I see you there
see your face
feel the softness of you
and the tears

there was a time when we feel like perfect
when pillows wore our heads
our reflections the ceiling
walls recording our voices

Bacon Pop

Bacon Pop. The idea was a sound one, it probably shouldn't have been acted on but, well it has. The initial taste is lovely. A couple handfuls later, you realize the bacon flavor is fading and all you can taste is the salt. Then your tongue starts burning, if it's geographical, like mine, and feels like it may swell. I imagine if I had it with beer it might be tolerable but, it is clearly not happy hour, yet. I'm going to give it a sideways thumb, not great, not awful, but still maybe not right.

My Daughter's First Joke 3/30

My Daughters First Joke


we are meeting
as we do
in the fall like we do
in our small home there
are at least thirty people here
family
that’s how we roll
she is four
I am tumbleweed bouncing
from small room to small room
it doesn’t matter
every belly will be filled
every drink as well
my daughter is stalking my shadow
she is four and confident
she is telling me something
“Mom, I have a joke and it’s funny.”
I tell her I know
she stares daggers
which translates
to
“You say that all the time.”
there is music and chatter
spades and uno
there are folks eating dinner
and eating dessert
it’s family
this is what we do

she stands
four years old in her pretty dress
hands on her hip she clears throat no one
can hear her because no one is listening
she decides to wear her big girl voice
“ I have a joke, and it is funny.”
everyone pauses for the cause
some forks in mid air
a Boston derailed
she smiles speaks only
when she has everyone’s attention
“what has a hole and you screw it?”

you could hear the breath stilling
in the chests of every person in the room
I become petrified tree
stuck in spot hand fluttering to throat
my brother
bursts into laughter
my mother eyeball him to the kitchen
the younger children try to guess
the adults are in a state of terror
I exchange feverous eyes with
my now wasband

“what is it? come on, guess.
what has a hole and you screw it?”

no one guesses
no one breathes
no one moves
my brother is giggles away
from hyperventilating in the kitchen

“a light bulb!”

the relief flowed through the room
held breath released laughter ensued
my tree trunk legs go wobble
I plant myself in the nearest chair
she curtseys
then flounces
and that’s really the only word for it
stands in front of me striking a b-boy stance
“I told you it was funny”

I scoop her in my arms
make a promise in my head
to teach my baby how to tell a joke
that doesn’t cause mental heart attacks
we laugh together
my baby told her first joke
and after the trauma
it was pretty damn funny

Inconvenient Truths and Lies 2/30

Inconvenient Truths and Lies



Lie

You are the best thing that's ever happened to me

Lie

When we met , the first time I laid eyes on you,
I knew we were meant to be

Truth

The way your eyes slid across my skin
Like you never saw me
Because you never saw me
You just saw stages and marques
A name in an unforgiving light

Lie

My heart never molded to another's.
Never held pulse to throat.
Never held on for dear life, as you
Bent me perfect
Never happened

Truth

The way I said your forever
Sounded like a back handed compliment

Lie

The way you never doubted
as you doubted my fidelity
my forked tongue
my you are the only one for me mentality

So it is in fact
My fault
My eagerness to meet your needs
They way I anticipated your desires
And who the fuck makes reservations anymore
That way I gave you space
Never crowded you in
Trusted you at your word
Ignored our shiny brokenness
As we left parts of us in public places
Our impressions knifed into narrow minds


I'm so glad we never called this love (lie)

Never kissed it on the mouth (lie)

Never let the moon catch us bathing in her rays
All sweat and salt (lie)

Our skin never found our rhythms (lie)

And the light
Stayed off the entire time (lie)

We both knew that
Only those truly in love
Make love with the lights on (truth)

So aren't you relieved to know
This was not love (lie)


I am
Relieved (lie)

Satisfaction 1/30

I am sitting in a bar
formerly the Blue Frog
sounds poetic enough
I am being stood up
And maybe I should have expected this
first time on a date
this is new
old dog
stood up
blue

I Can't Get No Satisfaction
cranks through the sound system
and irony clashes with
this is so fucking sad
as I listen to the six women
sharing the patio with me
they
trash every man and women
they've ever been involved with
or friends with
associates with
or
maybe waved to on the street

these women are bitter and mean
I never want to be one of them
never want to let a drunken night of
I can't differentiate between pronouns
make me that angry, bitter
I was moving towards bitter
but not like this
maybe this is a teaching,
learning moment

I'm alone but not really
their voices
a needle scraping across a record
one they won't remember
when day breaks
you would think they were fighting
if you were here
but you are not
just me
alone, but not really
they are talking over each other
and it would be more entertaining
if I wasn't in my own head
writing this poem at their expense

Eric and Andrea
this is all they can talk about
the relationship they are currently
throwing under the bus
as they dissect what went wrong
how it's not a sexual thing
how tired they are
but they aren't
they are cutting and mean
rehashing and I get the feeling
that there is an underlying
thing
or theme
I only catch snatches but
they are so loud
so redundant
that if I ever had shit put back in
had a love child by a woman with talent
one who was here to witness this
whatever this is
our love child would wear
the names Andrea or Eric
I am not alone
I am alone
but
not for real

still no satisfaction here
Just voices
bitter
loud
louder
loudest
screaming
clearly one
or all of them have slept with
Andrea or Eric
and now they are a fucked up support group
for love thrown away by all of them
still wanted on a level
I don't want to become them


I can almost see the bottom
of my glass
so
soon
I will abandon the once frog
understanding why it is so blue
and if my new vibrator
lives up to its name
satisfaction
will be found
alone

National Poetry Month

I am going to update daily, for real this time. I have not been paying attention to my heart (heART)and this must change. Can't promise perfection, in fact I'm pretty sure most will be craptacular! I also keep promising to blog more often, that will happen as well!!

WOWPS 2012 Denver, Colorado

It is not as cold as I thought it would be and the flurries are light. I think the night time temps are going to be the business. It is so good to see everyone!

I drew 34, which means I compete late in the early bout and early in the late bout. We all like to land somewhere in the middle but that's an impossibility so we deal. I have managed already to demagnetized my room key. I got talent like that. I've been drinking so much water I'm going potty like every ten minutes. Going to be a problem tomorrow since that's my nervous tick thing. I figure if I pee on stage I brought it with me but the person after if they slip in it, then it's a prop. Hahahahaha

Sista Seuss: Video slam

Sista Seuss: Video slam

Video slam

It would be great if you could go vote for me here....

If multiple choice is an option pick "c"

She is praying for snow. I admire her faith but that shit is just not going to happen. It's interesting this will be the second Christmas Eve we've spent together, no closer to building, maybe further away from breaking. Time will tell. "What do the lonely do at Christmas" is playing in the background. Her jam, and I'm not sure what my role is now. I mean we are together? Should I be offended or not give a damn....questions? I won't ask.if I do there could be a fight or "disagreement" and I would like to get laid. So, tongue secured in cheek I will not comment. See, you can teach an old dog, or cougar, new tricks.

I packed poorly. There are no clothes in my bag. Toothbrush, socks, underwear, pj's, a bullet and batteries....what the fuck..oh, yes please! One track mind, yes that would be the track and look my mind just moving and hoping no one sees me wearing the same clothes I had on Friday on Sunday. Oops.

I finally decided on a title for my book. If you didn't know, I will be published by Sibling Rivalry Press may 2013. I'm pretty fucking excited about that. You should be too and then you should buy my book. The writing of the title poem is bringing up shit not sufficiently suppressed. Damn my brain. The poem will not look like itself when I'm done if I keep edit hacking it to pieces. So I'm going to let it simmer.

My best friend called. I invited her over. Cozy, fire in the fireplace, did I mention my girl is hoping for snow.? That shit better NOT happen. It was good. Everyone behaved an I was wearing pj's, glad she called first .. Hello!

Now we are going to watch a movie. We always try to watch a movie. Sometimes we finish, but I'm feeling frisky so..that may not happen...like the snow.

Happy holidays!!

11/30 Speak No Evil Especially If Its The Truth

(this will be a recurring theme, like therapy, i need it out of me)

I’ve been holding my tongue
Deep in the recesses of my cheeks
The words they hold could rock a world
Remove a stain
And set my spirit free

But freedom isn’t mine right now
I am locked in the gravitational pull
Of the pupils in my students eyes
I want to walk the walk with them
Until we are forced to walk in different directions

Don’t want to be the lair that said they’d be there then they weren’t

Don’t want to be the false prophet that said I got your back before you felt the blade

If I be the last vestige of truth in our world for just a little while longer
I’ll take the just a little while longer

Lace my words with metaphor and white truths
So faint they’ll barely recognize themselves

Hold to the shadows
Only let you see me in daylight

I have killed nothing beautiful here
So they cannot call me ugly

I have said nothing that is not true
But still they call me liar

So I will hold my tongue

The one that bites and stings
The one that tears down what disappoints
The one they will dress in slanders old clothes

I will hold it because my children need me

The ones who once called my womb home
And the ones on loan to me

I have your back
Even if my hands cover my mouth

10/30 For Lorraine

For Lorraine
(On the tenth anniversary of your absence)


I'd like to tell you that your wishes were granted
That the foundation you set is stable
And the seeds you broadcasted took root
In rich soil and grew tall reaching towards the future
I'd like to tell you all these things
But, they would be lies,
And lying is an art I've never mastered

If I were a liar
I suppose I could say that the adventure playground
Still thrives that the swimming pool and parking lot are only
Figments of our wilting imagination
I could say that the peace garden
Flourishes
The perennials are bright and bold
And the tiles painted and fired still boast the names
Of those who've passed and still shout hopes
For the future
Set in mortar by tiny hands
And their proud work stands in tack
Not in pieces

The buildings are not falling a part
And wildlife has not become
More important than the human minds
Who occupy that building
Where there was once a waterfall
In the library, that flowed for three whole years
That empowerment is still the bread we feed ourselves
And the children daily
We eat heartily
Our bellies filled with insight and inspiration

I would tell you that integrity is still paramount here
That doing what's right is not considered insubordination
That undermining and too many cooks in the kitchen
Is not the reality
That what is needed is always granted
And your ten-year
Hiatus has not left dreams destitute and malnourished
Because the foundation was set
And the right thing is always the right thing
Even though the right thing has not shown its face
Recently

I'd tell you that those who remember
Still look for you
Those who remember
Still look out of their windows some days
And see you twirling in the light rain
Hands open and raised to the heavens
Willing it to wash away and renew
And those who remember
Held on to the memories
Until they were yanked out from under us
In the form of lies and letters
Written by those who never knew you
Those who come after this may never know you existed

I would tell you
There was an award once in your honor
I won't tell you that they spelled your name wrong
I won't speak of coroners vans and HAZMAT teams
I won't discuss the disconnect
Or the drunken strong holds unsteady on their feet

I will tell you instead
That those you brought into the fold
Will remain as long as they can
Deflected as much as they can
And hold on to your ideas and philosophies
Despite the abridged versions
You can get on line
But never in the palm of your hand

I will tell you
That though we were not agreed in all things
We disagreed more often than not
I understood when you remarked that some people
Should not work with small children
This is why you didn't work with small children
Why you chose those who could put them in place
The main part still rings true
Some people should not work with small children

I will tell you
That I know you had no idea you would leave so soon
But if you had put your wishes on paper
Willed them to those left behind
Maybe I wouldn't have to recount the last ten years
To you with lies and half-truths
That become whole in the retelling

They don't remember you here
There in no room for what worked
But when I leave
And I am being forced to leave
So I will go, but,
I will remember and take the parts worth preserving

See in order for this new way to work
The old ways have to be removed
Democratically
Especially those who bark too loud
And bite too hard
I am loud, and my bite leaves marks
And

I believe you knew this day would come
I believe you tried to warn me
And the others

We are listening now

I'd like to tell you that
Things will be better when we, like you
Leave this place we tried to hold onto



I'd like to tell you all these things
But, they would be lies
And lying is an art I've never mastered

Messy

It's amazing the things people focus on. How people and institutions can so easily blame others for the state of their own houses. If you business, is your business, then it seems to me that you would handle your business. So many people stirring the same pot somethings sure to go wrong. I only hope that before it all goes bad you refocus on the mission. Understand that if you continue in this way, you will bring your own house down.
Sad really.

9/30 Carnival

What it was like before this
was confusing
like running through sand
walking on water
you misrepresented your intentions
put me on the back burner
left me simmering until I burned for you
you never wanted this
what you wanted was supplicant
I never was good at that
but you pushed and pulled me off course
you are something like a enigma
a puzzle
and I am good at those
but I am not good at you
we both know it
but we insist on trying to tug of war ourselves
into the present
I presented myself as what I was
you liked it
until you didn't
but it's what we knew
We knew what would happen
right here right now
what are you doing right now?
Not me because I'd notice
I can't pretend we weren't pretending
we seem to do that well and we will probably do it again
and again
we are merry-go-round love
circling each other like so many vultures
we are thick like thieves
and our bones hold more meat than most could handle
we handled each other
well,
now
let the scavengers feast

8/30 We Sing Because They Make Us

I do some of my best work in my head.
When the ideas hit I move sometimes in the middle of the night.
My charges ages 5-10 tolerate my moods.
The ebb the flow at my discretion.
They complain and they share, especially the shit you don't want to know.
I would never suggest mixing kindergartners with third grades,
but it couldn't be help and I am good at what I do. I called it a challenge.

I would make the experience move through music.
I can't sing but my assistant could.
So they would too.
They would sing because I would make them.

It was rough, but as the year came to a close
I wanted to go out with a bang!
Do something never done before.
The ideas stalled and left me blank.

Then BAM!
I got it!
We would form a band, record the songs and do a concert for their parents!!
The project flowed and the Horizons Harmonics was born!

I got us an interview at the community radio station and for an hour they talked to the kids and played our tape. A tour! We would have a tour! We performed at Mars Music in front of a confused crowd. The kindergarten twins thought we should be paid.

The day before the concert. I was a wreck. Told them there would be a reception.
Every parent donated food and one bought us a case of non-alcoholic champagne.
I go to bed. I have an epiphany at 1 in the morning. To the store graham crackers, gold spray paint and a hot glue gun. The cashier didn't ask. I didn't tell.

I spray painted the graham crackers gold, and hot glued them on to black mat board and scripted each child's name in gold paint.

When I presented them, parents cried and I was pronounced as THE SHIT!!!
Then I sold the tape to parents for 5 bucks a pop and the proceeds financed the end of the year trip.

Epic ideas don't come everyday, but when they do, you might find yourself spray painting graham crackers in the driveway at 3 am! Just go with it.

7/30 Imani

Imani


Your birth was more than memorable.
My first child, you would be the pure, the best of me.
You were late.

It was like you said, “I’ll be born when I want to!
Who are you and what do you want?
The apartment is paid for.
Thirty-six weeks is a suggestion,
I can stay longer if I want and I want!”

I went into labor with you at a play.
The 14th Street playhouse, the play,
It was great; grandma was involved, so you know it was great.

When the first twinges grabbed me, my mother
Let me know that pregnancy and childbirth was not like in the movies.
“Yes, you are having contractions
but it could take hours and
I am on a panel with Ruby Dee
and Ossie Davis so, hold tight.”

I held tight.

Red beans and rice, midnight. I couldn’t help myself.
They laughed. All of them.
Me clutching my stomach, your home, hobbling through the house.
When I got there, to the hospital, your doctor no where in sight.
It was supposed to be all Zen and well, Zen.
The nurses were tripping.
The stand in doctor an Asian man with the last name of Gonzales.
I laughed, you laughed later when I told the story,
I mean it was funny, despite the pain.

My mistake was yelling at the nurses.
Telling them how I heard about switching babies.
Checking your birthmarks and other distinguishing marks.
This could be why they left me in a hallway after
birth, freezing and damn near feverish.
Meanwhile they dressed you in ribbons and bows
showing your beautiful self to the other patients.

When I saw you.
My heart doubled back on its self.
You were so beautiful that secretly,
I hoped you looked like me.

Twenty – three years later.
You are making your way.
You always accepted the me ,
who is me,
no matter how uncomfortable I made everyone around us.
I don’t hold my tongue;
you know this and love me anyway.

I wish you the world.
All shiny and sharp and confusing.

You are my child, you got this,
you will work it the way it suits you.
I know that you know that I love you.
You can do no wrong in my eye.


Do the damn thing!

Make your mark!
Make me proud, like you already have!

My baby is in the world now.
The possibilities are endless!

Give them hell, take names and call me
so we can talk about the fall out.

Rock the world baby.
Because that’s what your momma intends to do.
Later, we will compare notes.
I rock, because you rocked me first.

Love,
Your Momma!

6/30 Pop Tart Love an erotic tale of hot damn!!!

Pop Tart Love an erotic tale of hot damn!!!


I put you in my mouth
Savored and exalted your praise
The way you fit
The way you teased
I thought I knew your name
Remembered you from a fling in the past
You’d changed your packaging
And once released from your holdings you
Took hold of me had your way with my taste buds

These children
They have now idea
They tell me you are gross
I tell them watch their mouths
They snicker
They stare
They are jealous
And they should be

The toaster is close but I wanted you raw
Wanted you in the palm of my hand
You wanted it too
And if you had a mouth I am sure you’d say it
But talk is cheap
And this coffee cup won’t fill itself
Right next to the toaster
I pop in your twin

These children
They are so........ them
They insist I’m going to burn you
Just because I burned something the day before
They know nothing of our relationship
And I am sure that if you had ears
You’d ignore them as well

You are so hot!
I can barely hold you
Burning the tips of my finger
My tongue
You are the shit!!!
And if you were a person
Had a face and a pulse
Some lips I could nibble
A chin would be nice
If you had feet or legs
Or a torso
Or arms
I imagine you’d hold me like I am holding you now
And if you had a gender
You could be the woman of my dreams
But in reality
You are a tickle to m fancy
A memory remembered

You are some damn good taste bud loving
And the best thing
Is that there are seven other pairs of you
Waiting for me
At home
You might be jealous
If you had feelings and a heart
And fingers so you could point them at me
Or flip me the bird
I promise
I will love your sisters
No less than I loved you

Pumpkin Pie Pop Tarts
A love affair begins…
For a limited time
Or at least that’s what it said on the box!

4/30 Menopause, not the musical, but the rhyme-y rant

Menopause, not the musical, but the rhyme-y rant

This body is a temple
in the throws of global warming
the changes come without a warning
sweat on brows continuously forming
clothes are cloying insulation
they keep the heat hide the hearts loud palpitations
it is illegal to be naked in places open to the public
but there are times when I really contemplate wearing my birthday suit saying fuck it they tell me that it's early not full on pause
I say "What! It's gonna get worst?" then I calmly retract my claws
you're telling me we can put shit in space and gps my every move
but you can't come up with an internal ac unit that will cause my skin to cool
I swear to God every time I flash I lose memories and brain cell
but I am woman, I am stronger so I'll deal, what the hell
but I guarantee if this was a condition that was experienced by a man
they'd figure out a solution as fucking quick as they fucking can

I know I seem ill tempered and maybe a little hot
That's the point "I Am" I'm going through menopause...you're not!

Hands 3/30

Hands


It starts with a touch. One that excites and aggravates.
Smooth like lines on parchment. Searching for secrets
tucked between folds. My name in your mouth a breath held
spoken into the locks that circle my head. A crown.

I am a queen here. Locked in your embrace. Hold me to the light,
watch me shine and sparkle. Diamonds. Moans like music
we dance.

Slow at first. The momentum increases your eyes are glass.
We slide and shimmer. My mouth turns dirty. The words all
guttural and stain. I don't believe my own ears.

You ask me what I want. Pandora's box opens. Just enough to
let simple sins flow out in tangles of sheets and palms. We become
elastic. Stretching more than intentions. We bend like willows,
roll like waves. Crash and break.

Holding like notes. We are an opera. We are a memory in the making.
Shaking leaves we fall forever.

It started with a touch.

2/30 Rant

Loyalty is a myth here
Like truth and honesty
The words instill a kind of fear
Like accountability and suicide
Sanctioned by those who are to busy
Paying attention to things unimportant
Like sealing envelopes and coffee
Lies flow like steady smiles and shaking hands
Like you need to start something to start something
There was a time when the bottom line was safety and
A sense of peace
Now it's a time of questions like
Is it safe for children to play in chicken shit?
And does anyone know what integrity means?
And how far do you follow someone on the wrong path?
And if this is for everyone why isn't yours here?
The questions that will never be answered
Because nobody care except the ones that do
But they be labeled villain
because they hold the truth too close
Don't put that in your mouth
you don't know where that lie has been
We never asked your opinion
I mean we did but we didn't like what you said
So we'll just pretend it never happened
You never asked for that this is the first I've hear
Four faces flush
They recognize this lie
Hopes no one notices
But they do..back pedal
Change the topic
Shift the blame
Have a cookie
Were you drunk on that field trip?
What did the judge say?
Is the carpet clean?
Does it still smell like death?
Are you sure about that time?
Are you sure about that time?

November 30/30 #1

  Saturday Night Live
 
 
We often squatted there.
 
The bed just a queen but we all fit so it feels king sized.
 
Family time in the room with the biggest television
happened nearly every Saturday night.
 
Tonight, Michael Jackson and Diana Ross will be singing to us.
A special night. We get to stay up late.
 
My sister worries a loose tooth.
It is so loose that it moves whenever she takes a breath.
In and out it wiggles there like a threat.
 
My brothers play checkers on one edge of the bed.
The younger brother lives for the triple jump.
"King me!" he yells wanting everyone to know of his victory.
They've been playing all day.
He hasn't won a single game.
He wears hope like a Boy Scout badge.
His eyes are glazed, he will fall asleep before the game is over.
 
The boyfriend soon to be father begs the younger daughter
with the loose tooth to let him pull it out.
She screams like she is on fire.
 
The older daughter reads Tiger Beat magazine
waiting for her future husband Michael
to smile at her from the glow of the television screen.
Soon she will be old enough to marry.
He will see her and fall in love.
He will, as long as Diana is not around.
 
The older brother leaves the room for a potty break.
When he returns the younger brother has fallen asleep fingers on his king.
 
The younger daughter with the loose tooth has also fallen asleep.
The boyfriend soon to be father taps the older sister on the shoulder.
Places a finger across his lips, points at the sleeping girl.
He pulls the tooth so easily the girl never moves.
The older daughter, older brother, mom and boyfriend soon to be father
giggle behind their palms.
 
Michael and Diana are singing now.
The older daughter has tears in her eyes.
She wishes Diana would stop touching her one day husband.
 
The younger daughter stirs. She wakes.
She staggers to the bathroom for a potty break.
The toilet flushes she turns on the faucet to wash her hands.
She screams like she is on fire.
Grabs at her throat.
Says she swallowed her tooth and now the tooth fairy won't come
and she thinks she's going to die.
 
The younger brother jerks awake.
Fingers still clutched around the checkers.
He takes a triple jump.
Declares himself the winner and falls back asleep.
 
The boyfriend soon to be father grabs up the younger sister.
Shows her her tooth.
She smiles a shaky smile. Thanks god she is not going to die.
Demands to be tucked in for bed.
She doesn't want to piss the tooth fairy off by making her wait.
 
The older boy puts the checkers in the box. He puts the game away.
He wakes the younger brother. He will deposit him on the lower bunk
Before he climbs to the top.
 
The older daughter kisses Michael goodnight.
There are six posters of him on the walls of her bedroom.
His face is kissing level on each.
She sleeps with Tiger Beat under her pillow.
Thoughts of MJ dancing in her head.
 
The mother and the boyfriend soon to be father
tidy up and ready themselves to do what grown folks do in the dark.
The house is quiet again.
Another Saturday night put to bed.