fiction

my psycology professor broke it to me
in the most matter of fact,
sorry i have to be the one to kill the whole santa thing
kind of way.
He said,
"love is fiction.
It lasts maybe four years,
just long enough
to get you to have sex
and keep a man around till your kids can sort of defend themselves."
well, i don't know.
i hope we stick around each other longer than that
kids or no
but either way
you're real enough to me
and nothing makes the world like you do.
i lay my head on your shoulder
and everything fades.
i smell you
hear your breath
hear your heart beat
hear you say something softly
and your arms around me...
well if that's fiction
i need to learn to write.

i never did meet a god in eden

adam says its my fault i bleed
a week each month
and that its my fault
the trees are bare all winter
and that death, yes death
began when i fed him an apple.
well, maybe that happened
a long, long, time ago and i dont remember
but i dont want to argue

who of all you rule-makers
lived on this earth longer than we all will?
moses said god wrote on those stones
but i never saw a holy finger
scratch a law.
and i think i have as much right as you
to carve my golden calfs
and eat the bright red apples because
i never did meet a god
in eden.

i am afraid of this place i live on--
this planet
with all it's fiercesome beauty.
i am afraid
of us
of not knowing
or understanding what makes you you behind your smiles.
i am afraid of losing my life again
every day
that i dont live fully,
wishing for later and for rest
and,
im afraid i will not want it when its here.

Act like a lady

I am strong.
I am a tree woman
roots deep
dancing boughs

I am a warrior woman, amazon
I am not afraid of night.

Daughter of earth
yes, that is me
sun-worshiped,
proud, yes--
living stone.

I am no shadow
no
whispering weakling
I ask for no permission.
i am a thing of beauty--
fierce
like lightning

no butterfly
no delicate flower

I am a wasp
and I do sting

I am a siren
I am a goddess--
pray for grace.

I am formidable;
I am all these things.
I am the standard of myself
and I
define my name
I am a woman--
You
Act like a Lady.

you are riches unbought
you grew
into this world
and brought
with you
the good things
i yearn for
all the fleshly passion
and all the
sacred feelings

you should know
the way of the world
before you learn to avoid it
or learn not to care.
you should know the way things are
whether or not u wish to change it.
you should understand the sky
and grass
and trees
and spinning suns,
and you should know at least one person beside yourself.
you should know that life cannot be bought
it happens
in a way
we call miraculous
which is to say
no one knows
and everything
in life that matters comes
into it like we do
and goes the same--from places unknown
to places unknown.
you must know
and you will at some point
as i do
that money buys comfort
aand no more.
I found you
like i found myself in this place
and I didnt let go
of either of us.

things you should know

you should know that I know more than you
If you are a man, you should know that
this is obvious because I'm a woman and you're not.
you should know that the sky is blue
and the grass is green
and that soccer moms drive mini vans
and boys with small dicks drive sports cars
middle aged men who feel useless and old and are scared of death drive them too
you should know, tho you probbably don't
and if you don't you never will,
that its no use that I'm telling you this because you will forget and you never listen.

you should know that cheeseburgers are ground up cows
with bad cheese on top.
you should know that people with endless amounts of useless facts about the world are considered smart, so I'm making you smarter.
you should know that smart people often end up forty in suburbia
and unsmart people and people who don't abide by laws
and unmotivated people envy subrbians
you should know that all suburbians hate themselves and want to get out
you should know that money buys all the things that can be paid for
you should know that nothing you really want can be paid for
you should know that most of the things you don't think you'll even get(aside from fame and money and the head cheerleader or the football captain) you get eventually in life anyway

what do I have to tell you, teach you?
and I have all the right to teach you
I am twenty-one years of human experience
twenty-one years of feminine perspective
I know about
abuse
sex
love
guilt
fear

needs
wants
desires
dreams
food
cars
plants
college
high school
kids
adults
animals
chairs
computer
brain freeze
writer's block...
And men, I know about women.
women, I know about men.

I know about
where I started
and where I am
better than anyone else on the planet
and this is stuff you'd want to know
because it will expand your brains
and horizens
and that's mostly a good thing
on the planet I live on.

Fortress (second draft)

"...Part of the crew, part of the ship..." (Pirates of the Caribean, World's End)



I’ve been
waking up angry
from billowing sheets of cotton
and silk
and walls of alabaster brick
Feeling trapped in happiness
—Not mine
I’ve been dreaming
of parents and siblings and lovers
beneath ceilingless
covers

And me,(trying not to stain my skirt),
always in corners
judging the height of smooth cream walls
I built
for their necessity—

my rib-stretched
palace
of
love-bones.

“You,”
They (my sheltered) say
“you,"
and then “it”
till I’m a place
—a faceless source—
for being there.
My own white dress is the fabric
of this.

peace or passion (from colors)

what is this human mammal?
soul or flesh?

I think we are born
into this aliveness
but I dont know
where (or if) awareness
starts or ends
in blue or red

what I've seen of heaven
is green with earthly life
and red with human passion
human need
human fulfilment

mangoes
melting on the tounge
and you melt into me

why not
when death's black looms
imminent

flesh ends

we are
forever ending

(in little
deadlines with
heaven blue
afters
in their skies)

peace, blue peace, away from here.
is that not the most carnal desire
of an anguished soul?


flesh ends
or
soul forever

I don't think we know
the concept
of either
does it matter?

carnal existence

carnal
material
worldly

(enter connotations)

carnal--this flesh
hungers

And this life
is in this world
so I think
I'm fine
with being a material woman

worldly
is knowing
what earth is

immersed
in that definition,
taken by it.

I am taken by This
whatever this is

this carnal existence

I promise myself to be
as carnal, material, worldly
as I can.

you said I got to learn to write
3-D

I see--
my poetry
is medival art
and
I need

to be Michaelangelo
If I'm eyeing chapel ceilings

well
I've been sketching everything
in the same shade
of black

but
I am learning to see the steps and layers
of language

words
said
unsaid

like
shadows
and light

red (from colors)

if I could fall into
a color
I think it should be blue
but my heaven is the passion red
I fear
and seek
and sink into
a sexiness
so sleek
a red so thick
so slick

admired
revered
formidible
almost black

Fortress

I’ve been
waking up angry
from billowing sheets of cotton
and silk
and walls of alabaster brick
Feeling trapped in happiness
—Not mine
I’ve been dreaming
of parents and siblings and lovers
beneath ceilingless
covers
And me (trying not to stain my skirt),
always in corners
judging the height of smooth cream walls
I built for their necessity

“You,”
They (my sheltered) say
“you,”
and then “it”
till I’m a place
—a faceless source—
for being there.

depth

i am learning to see the steps and layers

soul vs mind (stuck in my head)

mind is a place?
brain is a thing
soul is a concept.

soul is the essence of being
an uncarnal central
energy...

soul is a an inadaquate explanation
of awareness of self and being

where is the mind?
what is the soul?

thoughts lost
in baren landscape of mind
read the little caption below and to the side of
a bumpy canvas
eleven feet by fifteen.
black depths
and gray streaks
haunting green
and purple lurking,
specks
of unnamed colors
and swirls of dispair.
a flash of yellow caught my eye
and i followed a streak of white outside
till i was falling,
falling into blue.

who knew how much emptiness
four walls can hold?
four walls and a ceiling
and no floor
four white walls
no windows
the ceiling is falling
I am falling
who knew how much emptiness
four walls can hold?

Holloween

My body
is a limbo
and my soul is lost in it
Hurry, hurrying
in
the purple darkness.
What did she do to die into this hope for heaven?
she is disconnected from my skin,
locked in
lanternless
wandering.
Blind,
she paces
the flesh of my mind;
my eyes are not her windows.
Where are the worlds
before here
before
the emptiness of flesh?

I used to hate my skin tone,
the color and texture of my hair
it said not white
and not white said to me
not loved
but then I grew up
and learned that love doesn't have to come from others
so I love my bouncy waves
and the golden honey-olive
I love my full, sweetheart lips
(You, know, the ones you told me to tuck in
even though you always pouted yours in the mirror.
I used to wish I had lips that deserved to be pouted)

I used to hate my breasts
and those "parts" unmentionable
they said girl,
not male,
and not male said
less loved
but then I heard woman in my own voice,
not spat along with dishes
and cooking
and ironing
now, once in a while I look in the mirror
and I always like what I see
the pretty curves
soft round on my chest.
and that forbidden place has a name.
vagina. oops, I said it.
hm. It has a ring to it

my insanity
speaks in my cadences
uses my words
my voice
claims my memories
as hers

but it is not enough
she wants
my heart to throb
with her imagined pain
she curls my body under the quilts
closes my eyes against the sunlight

my insanity nurses my fears
like an evil lover
and I cling to her
like I'll never have another

Black dog

they call it the black dog
I don't think it fits because I love dogs
Warm and furry
all paws and pink tounges
and floppy ears
but maybe
it is something I cuddle
as if it loves me
I don't think it cares
just indifferent
panting, barking in my ear for a treat
or attention
ignoring me for a space
but always there
somewhat
somehow
And the only thing I know about it is that it will be back
and I'll cling to it when it does,
pet it,
nurse it
like it loves me

anger

anger
boils hot under my skin
pounds in my ears
my fingers shake
their tips tapping
the keyboard
I cry when i'm angry
warm tears ooze
pathetically
in a way that isn't soothing
isn't relief
If I felt like running I could run it out
stomping the pavement
like my frustrations,
running away
from everything I wish I could leave behind
visualize my desires ahead of me
its sad, it really is pathetic
that I'm sitting here
tapping out my anguish
when I have better things to do.

night river sky (not a poem, but I thought i'd post it here anyway.)

It is night. I sit on the bank of the st. Mary's river. Its surface is rippled glass. The moon shines a pathway across to the other side, beconing me to follow. But I am too mesmerized by the gentle lapping at my feet. Sand and gravel roll and tumble, and bubbles fizz. I watch a little water creature tossed playfully toward the bank and pulled back out with each wave. It doesnt seem to mind. It goes on its persistent and patient exploration between the tug and push of the water. Around me, the trees look dark and mysterious. If I believed that trees have spirits, I would believe it most at times like these, when I could almost make out a face in their moving branches. Further down a dead tree stands like a monument to fogotten agony, its naked grey branches reaching like crooked fingers. The luscious green black of the other trees contrasts sharply. Life and shadow. Death. Death's crooked, twisted limbs. A night bird calls. It is an erie sound, a hoarse, resonating croak. For a moment I could have believed it was something else in the night forrest that made that sound. Some unnamed being. I shiver, then laugh aloud. The soft sand is still warm. I lie back against the gravelly dust and contemplate this night river sky. There is beauty in the blackness of night, and in this day-same place, a different world. Gray-black clouds have crept up on the shining moon, obscuring it partly. Is it too bright to be as much a part of night as this starless sky? I resent the misty shroud for a short moment, watching it curl into itself. but it caresses the mooon's face, and I catch my breath. The silver-blue moonbeams light on tips and sides of clouds, changing them into something spectacular. A halo of golden light around the moon settles on the mists, and they resemble linings of a womb. If had a choice of mothers, I would be born from this sky or into it a thousand times.

Prince Charming came knocking at my door
Sweet temptation wanting more
but I said
"I'm sorry I'm not the one you're looking for
can't be the girl that you adore
I tried to find her in my soul
but that place is dark and cold
and anyway it's getting old
I wish that I could find you love
but you're not the one I'm thinking of"
I said goodbye, I said good luck
I shut the door and turned the lock
went back to bed, back to my thoughts
I tried to dream the dreams you haunt
But I'm not
the girl you're looking for
Can't be the one that you adore
I tried to find her in my soul
but that place is dark and cold
and heartbreak is getting old
I wish that I could find you, love
but I think I'm giving up
you
shot one arrow in my heart
sent it to another to another star
so I
can't be the one you're looking for
can't be the girl that you adore
but darling I'll keep dreaming
that dreams will fall for me
and if they don't
then when I wake
I'll just go back to sleep.

I would like to learn
the lanscape of your skin
the velvet
and the wrinkled places
the lines
and hairs and creases
dip and rise and plane
I want to know the trails from each to each
in fingertips or kisses
and travel them without a map
or compas
and just as easily draw one up
eyes closed, for future reference.

Happy Valentine's day everyone

Eyes

mirrors
show me
what I see outside my soul
when I'm looking in

windows
remind me
of a world
outside my mind and senses

doors confuse me
because I can't leave this awareness
and come back.

in my me place
I am alone
eyes closed or open
looking out or in
like playing house,
the shell
of my soul
shuts out
shuts in
and I can't show you what I see
and you can't show me what you see
and mirrors only make
my analogy
more confusing

the strangest strangers are the ones you know--
familiar ones,
with names to go
along with souls unmatched or unattached to faces
and bits and pieces
of stories
and sounds of voices
like sand-small puzzle sections
of a scrambled universe
and most left floating
somewhere
where the mind and soul are
theirs, not yours
(if either exist)

there is a saddedst solitude
in a place
full of people
I cannot reach
cannot tell
my secrets,
really,
if i shout
or whisper
to strangers
i am girl
woman
brown eyes
hair, skin, mouth
and they are faces of a crowd
i cannot see their souls
or touch their memories
or hear the language behind their words
sometimes
i think its better to be alone
than lonesome in a crowd

In Russia, they take "snow baths"‏ (here was a letter i thought sounded poetic, and tho i didn't write it i thought i'd post it.)

In Russia, they take "snow baths"‏

First, they "wash" themselves in snow outside
Then, they go inside and take a warm shower
then, they go back outside, and take snow, again, and "wash" themselves, again.

but another way, is to bring fresh snow into the shower, they say
and do the same thing, except in privacy and warmth of the shower indoors.

Apparently, it is extremely invigorating.

Today I walked to the mailbox in bare feet, in the snow, for starters.
It felt good(I had a sweater on, and tights under my pants, so I wasn't cold.

Love, Mommy

If I break into a thousand grains of earth
and into all the world I used to watch
as if from afar,
apart from nature,
longing to be one with her;
ah, if she claims me,
calls me daughter
and soaks me
back into the wind and trees and water,
if I go back to the elements that glued together
to look back on themselves in wonder,
when you look up at the stars don't say I've gone there.
Look on the soil beneath your feet
and when you breathe in something sweet
call a flower sister.
And when you watch the branches sway
or the sea gurgle against the fray,
pick up a handful of sand
and I will again be holding your hand.

a flower is a red, red rose

life is a phrase
read, spoken, heard
and you are my most cherished word

you are the poem in my prose
you dot the I and cross the t's
and oh,
a flower is a red, red rose!

life is a phrase
heard, written, read,
and you are my most cherished muse

new year

a new leaf turns
in an
old book;
I
am reading
and I
Am writing.
So word to soul
and ink
to page
and wisdom gathers
with gathered age.
no dusty covers here

inaction

where was the line
between a decision
made
and one
so easily not made?
where were my angel and demon arguing?
where was the fine
print of consequences?
I crossed that line,
sleepy-eyed and lazy
into the refuge of easy
but when my dreams cleared like fog
the land of last resorts
is no vacation

run away with me to bed

Run away with me
to bed
and we
can dream
outside your head.

Forget this world for a time,
and we can taste what gods are fed.
Lock myself inside your arms;
lose yourself to all my charms.

I'll show you bliss--
as close
as one another's lips--
we'll touch and kiss
a heaven from this loneliness.

you are here

There is a map
somewhere in the universe
with an arrow and words that say,
"you are here."
If I could find it
maybe I could find me
and all the places I've been
and where I'm going
but I've been wandering,
sometimes standing still;
and home has been everywhere I'm running to
and everyone I've been running from.
They say not all who wander are lost
but I think everyone is lost, really,
once they stop moving.

If I knew where to look

if I could point myself out
in a map of things

and erase the blur
of dreams
if I could
trace my steps through crisscrossed
paths
Broad ways winding
detours in that good old sweet narrow

that leads straight somewhere tomorrow

if I could
make a list of other souls
and all the stops

maybe I could find me
you know,
If I knew where to look

I'm stealing splashes
in time's puddle
playing with sticks
and making boats
out of leaves of grass.
I'm sure I'm making little waves
and tiny wakes,
and that my boots will be muddy when I go
but I don't care much for that
the water feels good on my child hands
and I don't think that raindrops should have all the fun
with puddles

water

if time can be measured by clocks
ticking in endless circles

why not in water?

I can see how now could go
in ripples
and yesterday
like the river downstream
with all the muddiness
and all the leaves like memories

and I can see them wash back like a flood
from time to time.

and tomorow and next year,
who knows what rain may come?

Shades of grey

Blood is always redder
at home
pulsing in us and bleeding
from our own.
spilling theirs is easier so
we say
theirs is a different kind of red
 
that bleaches away

Perception

I’d like to say I’ve got it right
my Light can brighten
every night
but if I do
I’d lie.

If I looked through
your teary eyes
and held my own truths
against your skies
I’d like to think
they’d shine.

I’d like to lend
the lantern
I’ve been walking by,
when mine
seems right
or yours is low
but how differently we know the things we know!
you have your own light
and mine can’t brighten every night;

but from time to time,
when I am low
I’ll wish that I could borrow
just a little of your glow
And if you hold my hand,
I’ll let you try to make it so.

Stranger

If I knew you
I’d see more than the blank potential of a face:
The names I might have called you by
And dreams of work or play
If I knew you, really
It would be hard not to love you—
This I know;
Even the most hated stranger
is loved by someone.

this day

Today will pass like the wind
Let it flutter through your soul,
tickle you.
Don’t let today unsettle you.
Let go of things you must
like old leaves
and bits of dust;
let today caress you—
love it while it’s here,
and let it carry with it what it may—
And feel renewed.