POEMS FROM 1995
Personal 25Feb95
1:24 a.m.
Quiet desperation
in 6 lines
or so
This is my age
my race
my hair color
This is my height
my weight
my eye color
I'm single and
healthy
and need someone
This is my life
Will you...
...share it with me
(No Title) 25Feb95
1:56 a.m.
nightmare insomniac
lost cause survivor
living dreams keep your dead
crippled dreamer
dishwater daughter
living dreams keep you dead
soldier or housewife
perhaps even the same
living dreams keep them
Dead.
music IV 26Mar95
Enigma floats the night
turning ordinary spring air
into something musical
something magical
into an elixir of
swirling cerulean
magenta and
luminescent green
the night becomes
a forest, a sea side
an other-world of
desert flowers on sand
A Truth 26mar95
my body twists
dancing turning
falling
strings on my wrists
move my hands -
ever so graceful...
strings on my feet
make the rhythm
of a heartbeat
and the strings
on my tongue
tell you fractions
camigal 26mar95
she was young
when
her country
turned on her
she tried to
find work when
there weren't
any jobs
she had no
experience
in any area
save one
she did
the best
she could
she sold her body
cheap and often
when no one
would buy an
hour or two
she starved
SPiNniNG 26mar95
the eagles rock the night
twisting time into ribbons
morph reality into
a Dali-scape of life
their music cuts my room
out of the cosmos
sets it spinning
into isolated-lone
the words reverse
into a none-sense
that is more profound
than the christian god
melody absorbs everything
taking structure
and breath and thought
until a single note is left
sunset 26mar95
the sun dripped from the sky
a radioactive splendour
of luminescent clouds
and rutherford's gold
The Tragedy 26Apr95
91 coffins
lined with concrete
are in a row
teddy bears
throw roses
into the 8 foot crater
and a nation mourns
* * *
bless-ed be
my children
the teddy bears
and fish unite
to fight the
injustice
that buries the young
unceasingly
* * *
the angels
dip their wings
and flow their tears
before they plummet
into chaos
the demons repent
tonight
for there is Evil
in the world
worse then they
can comprehend
* * *
smiles and wounds
blend as loved ones
are delivered into the air
those who wait
save their tears
that maybe hope
is yet alive
wellspring flows again 04May95
Date: 95-05-04 02:07:32 EDT
Foreshadows
The angels walk tonight
barefooted
on streets cobbled in glass
They peer into steamed windows
to see bloodied noses and thighs
There is not a star to lighten
the dark
that encroaches upon the world
* - * - *
# 6
She stood upon The Hill
looking down upon the grass
covered mound
He was young before he died
before a snakebite turned
into streaks of flame
and devoured his hand
his arm, his body
Her children are beside her
stepping stones of years
the youngest in her arms
They look to their mother
and see an emptiness
deeper than the grave
in her eyes
* - * - *
Insomnia
tonight is a darker night
than the sky and moon warrant
shades of fish
battered teddy bears
and roses
rim my mind
there are circles in which
demons and angels dance
upon ribbons of music
Children gasp
as they surface from
the Mother's womb
and drown upon air
that is thin
thinner than dreams
thinner than hope
molecules twist
themselves into a dreamscape
populated by legend
and myth
to create a new religion
out of recycled gods
and I write poetry
in an attempt to
exorcise them all
so that I may sleep
* - * - *
Vague
there is something in me
tonight
trying to find voice
in
my
awkward mind
something that
I must dream
if I cannot write
something that
will make me cry
as I sleep
and I do not know
what
it
is
* - * - *
I cried once, several weeks back, as I slept. I do not know what I cried for, in those dreams that wrapped my sleeping self tight. I know only that upon waking, I felt a sadness as deep as despair enfold me, and wrench my heart. It passed, as all things do, leaving puzzlement and confusion. The memory of sadness is, even now, fading. It is following the path that memories of pain created. I know not how long I will remember what that sadness was like. And, though sadness is not something to yearn for, when the memory goes, it will take with it something important. A message was born to me on the sadness, and will leave when the memory of sadness fades out of mind.
* - * - *
I do not know why I am writing this to you. And, it is to you. I write one word, then another. Words follow words onto this screen. Eventually I will run out of words. Then I will sleep, and tomorrow when I wake, this will seem as if it were a dream.
There is no knowledge in me of a word that will be next. There is only the sensation of need. There is a need to write that is in full flux. I write because there is something in me that tells me to write. When the thing that rides me empties itself out, I will stop writing.
Perhaps I will not dream tonight.
* - * - *
Predator
silent he waits
breathing the night
into a darkness
that holds malice
his prey is yet
unaware
innocent of the
eyes that stare
into the space
that separates
he waits with
patience
knowing the distance
closes with each beat
he waits
filling the space
with intent
* - * - *
Relationships
The radio plays love songs
of women who follow their men
into a death
And I think that
all women following of men
find a death
* - * - *
Meeting
The angels and demons
dance together
atop the graves
of honest men
and innocent children
and drink from the skulls
of women beaten to death
for failing
* - * - *
I am in an odd mood tonight, spinning snippets and fragments that I do not understand. Why I am in such a mood, I do not know. Today has been mundane until midnight struck. But then, it is 2 a.m. and that is the hour that spirits walk the earth.
from witches to fish to spirits. what will rise at 3?
* - * - *
Do your ghosts walk into your mind when the hour is late and you cannot sleep? Are they friendly, or do they bear razors? I cannot decide if tonight is haunted. If they have come tonight, have they left their chains and their stilettos behind? Are they here to talk? I feel as if they are here, but their presence is gentle and I am confused.
* - * - *
I think about crying. The last time I cried while awake was many months ago. Before that, it was a year. What is the property of tears that they burn and cleanse and soothe all at once?
* - * - *
My fish is swimming around his tank. He was reflected in the window in a dark mirror reflection that was perfect. Tomorrow I will clean the outside of his tank, and watch it gleam. Then, when the light outside has gone, I will take a picture of the tank and the dark reflection. I think the picture will turn out well.
The image haunted my mind for an hour. I closed my blinds and the image has receded.
* - * - *
And the fish swim along the edges of my mind. Alice in Wonderland style, they swim, fin to arm of the teddy bears. And I write.
* - * - *
The Beginning 09May95
Born into Midnight
she was named
Ariel Jade
She answered to Ariel
but named herself
Shadow
Cycles 20May95 -
Saturday morning at 1:30 a.m.
Earthmother
Tears of blood
drip from between my legs
to nourish the earth
and make fertile
the fields
god knows there is
no fertility within me
I am empty
less than a bird's nest
in the middle of winter
The moon spreads
her dead light upon
my brow
mocking and dancing
beyond my reach
and the goddess
is dead
to me
I was young never
and was innocent
no longer than it took
for the birthing waters
to dry upon my face
for the air to come
and drown my lungs
I dream no longer
my sleep is deep and dark
and silent
no children laugh and run
in the night
Soon
I will not sleep
and the fields
streaming coffins
of moonlight
and the dreams
that do not come
will enshroud
someone else
and someone else
will bleed the tears
that sustain this earth
while draining out
her heart
------------------------------
Tidal Moon
there is a tidal moon
in the sky tonight
the stars marking
grave-plots of saints
pull and ebb in the
moonbeam's grasp
until a tsunami
overflows the universe
and all babies drown
--------------------------------
What is Ours
Midnight comes early
grandma said
midnight comes early
but only for women
you see, my child,
men have taken the light
they have yoked it
and made it work
but the moonlight
oh yes, my child
the moonlight is
older than the mountains
it is cold and simple
and it is ours
Midnight comes to us,
it always has
and when it comes,
you must remember
we are once more
free
--------------------------------------
Sadness and hope
and silver moonlight
that turns the evening
braid together into a rope
that hangs us all
------------------------------------
Haunted 12June95
This night is damp and chilling
the rain has left ghosts upon the air
and horror in our bones
The bane-sidhe stalks the window's shadow
to frost us even more
as the moon slides from the sky
on tracks of molten ice
the grave reaches out to touch us
removing the future from our eyes
and we learn the reaper's scythe
by experience
Realization 12June95
yesterday and the day before
I took a trip through my past
and learned that a ghost ancient
was nothing more than a wisp
of stale air gone insignificant
a man's touch 12June95
there is something
different
about the touch of a man
slow and gentle
upon your thigh
something that is
wonderful and
needful
but forgotten when
not present
something elusive
that makes you feel warm
there is something
important
about a touch
of a man
that transcends
words
renewal 12June95
i dreamed of darkness
last night
as the moon slipped
away from this world
and the sky darkened
with dense clouds
i dreamed of warmth
last night
as the blankets wrapped
around me as i tossed
and turned through
the night
i dreamed of moisture
last night
as my bed undulated
with the movements
of my body revolving
i dreamed of a return
to the water's
of the Mother
as the storm raged without
and birth became
inevitable
Milestones 12June95
she was 13
when he came courtin
and sparkin
they married 2
months later
were parents in 10
she had 15
children
in 20 years
11 lived past
that first year of life
6 became adults
he died when
she was 76
leaving her drifting
she wandered
around the house
for another 2 years
she died at 78
leaving 4 children
and 23 grandkids
100s buried her
under a quilt she made
and a tree she loved
the stone at her head
held this:
"Osa May, beloved
wife and mother
1900-1978"
worshipping 12June95
there is the smell of summer
floating on the laundered air
and the grass sparkles
with Her diamonds
a purity rides the breeze
cleansing all life
it touches
and making the light incandescent
we worship Her
without even knowing
what we do
in each deep breath we take
and in each rainbow
we search for
in that child-like way
to renew our souls
flakes of truth 12June95
Indigo Girls spin a spell
of philosophy, relationship
and reincarnation
about the room
tying me in threads
invisible to the eye
and binding to the heart
there is a truth floating
on the air
that I try to capture and
translate into this poem
a truth that is tenuous
and fickle
what used to be truth turns
into illusion and falseness
before it becomes words
and I smell the reality
that surrounds me
and feel futility
roles 12June95
as a girl,
you learn to be
ashamed of your body
but to flaunt it
the way you look
determines
how you will do
all your life
as much,
or even more,
than all other things
such as who you are
or how smart you are
we learn this
at our mother's breast
and our father's knee
we learn this as we play
with our dolls that curve
in ways no human could
we learn this in our schools
and in our churches
but most of all
we learn this in our hearts
Dream Journal Writings Assorted Dates
Dawn 20Apr95
Drowned hair rustles
playing coy with
the fish and crays
Merkle the snake
Charmed by one
blond strand
ventures too close
(No Title) 29May95
The sky turned scarlet
as Earthmother gave birth
to the girl-child
Night came
The sky was blood
drenched in birthwaters
(No Title) 18June95
Mirror, Mirror on the wall
I cannot see myself at all
Midnight's hour has come and past
while bare still lies this looking glass
It wasn't supposed to be this way
banished, alone, to night from day
lost, sinking, with nothing left
dead inside and soul bereft
The House Bitch 18June95
Rugs and toilets and tables cleaned
dishes washed and left to dry
beer and gin and Bacardi and rye
cigarettes, movies, and girls to make
tunes and cars and Cody, too
beer and gin and Bacardi and rye
sweat and sex and nothing to break
and pills to keep his heart in line
beer and gin and Bacardi and rye
encounter 19June95
touch by touch
he convinces her
to come out
of herself
to accept his body
within hers
to accept...
later,
after the color
of his touch
fades from her skin
confusion is left
to drain from
her body
and life, once more,
resumes its path
Sleep-over 19June95
two little kids -
nested in sleeping bags
on grandma's hardwood floor -
wake to Midnight's chime
and the whippoorwill's call
convinced the shadows
have come alive and
are screaming for blood
the kids hold to each other
tears of fright and helplessness
soak the pillows
before sobs awake a grandmother
who is dreaming of
flying aback the 'wills
Irony 29June95
It was late that night
when I looked up to the sky
expecting to see indigo and silver
My eyes opened wide
at the sight of stars
just beyond the reach of
my extended fingers
Nothing in my life
has ever been so tempting
as those stars
And nothing
has ever been so
impossible
to reach
Separations 30June95
The child is parcelled out
like the choicest of meats
and the parents argue
and snipe at each other
meanwhile, emotions
and hurt and dreams
collide as they course
through the tiny body
domestic dispute 09July95
silhouettes upon the wall
bloody handprints upon the door
child crying by the bed
and golden hair matted to the floor
the fool 09July95
I.
He drinks his courage up
and shoves Her back
to the recesses of his mind
so he won't feel guilty
for what he's about to do
she is unsure about this
and protests without result
as his hands roam
II.
he is a fool and blind
for he does not see
a body is cheap
but a mind is priceless
and a heart given freely -
one ever beyond his reach -
is more rare than a true god
The Biker Lady 09July95
tattoos of fantasy run wild
over her arms and legs
while Valiums make her eyes
glaze with unicorns and dragons
entwined with roses
of incandescent scarlet
purple and green hiking boots
encase feet that have seen
many pegs and miles
this knowledge of the world
is etched on her face in lines
finer than tattoo ink
Demoness 09July95
hair that is saloon blond
and truths that never existed
in this world's reality
a life made more of myth
that Eve's and Pandora's
is exposed to warp the weave
of reality and human souls
Fresh Start 09July95
he holds her tight
while the covers wrap them both
to keep them cozy and safe
He is timid about his heart
having been previously gnawed
but holds her close regardless
Bar Scene 09July95
last night
the moon hung
cradled by the stars
one yellow flower
turned ash and glowed
in small perfection
among many indigo weeds
The bar by the hillside
was quiet
with people
being mellow and solitary
Note to a lover 20July95
Hello you
Good Morning
it is the way
you reply
that makes me smile
Life is like that -
full of tiny
insignificant things
that make you smile
Open Invitation 20Jul95
You are looking at me
this bright morning
through sleepy eyes that gleam
with a look
I am growing to recognize
I like it that you enjoy
the way my body looks
I like it that you want
to touch and be touched
You are more than welcome
you know
to any pleasure my body
can give you
Just as you are welcome
to all that I am
and to take what you want
from all that I can give
Music V 20Jul95
the tracks sing
with the vibrant voice
lent them by
the oncoming train
they harmonize
to the base throb
of the turning wheels
weaving a decsent
about the ebb and flow
the river,
upon hearing that tracks' song
joins in with a breathy chorus
punctuated by frog chant
and cricket hum
and we
encircled by light of the fire
listen entranced
to the melody
between nature and iron
Mirror Fragments 23July95
late one night
when I was young
I looked into a mirror
My soul was shattered
leaving fragments
to shread through my flesh
numbed by pain
the void grew ice
to keep forever numb
silent, final tears
traced a last smile
before emotion succumbed
and then,
as dawn opened the sky
I began the day
Acceptance 04Aug95
we are friends
you and i
and that is all
we may be
differing desires
and differing stars
tie us
with bounds unbreakable
and though I love you
there is no tampering
with fate
a pondering 04Aug95
it is human
i think
to always be
wanting
what you can't have
it is human
even still
to know
your own futility
and to resent
and
it is human
to continue
with your life
hoping
anyway
The Storm 04Aug95
young she was
when the storm struck
she watched
as the tornados ripped
away generations
of labor and hope and care
the storm blew itself out
leaving a legacy
...... rip....
Your poem 04Aug95
Young and world weary
not yet mature
a mother of two
how is it
that you describe
a friend
I do not know
she wants a poem
one of my poems
written about her
and I do not know
what to say
she is not definite
and so I cannot be
her mind changes
as quickly as clouds
cover stars
and her addictions
are not tame
she does not yet know
what it is to be a mother
and seeks that knowledge
in a haphazard
sort of way
by turns
she is dedicated
and fickle
she listens
but may not hear
at times
she reminds me
of the forest sprites
before
she turns into a lorelei
a banshee sits upon
her left shoulder
and an angel
upon her right
What is true
about her one day
is false the next
as if the world
reversed in the
course of the night
and while there is poetry in her life,
it is never constant enough
to capture within the lines of a word
regrets sort of 22Aug95
early this morning
before the sun came up
we nestled in your bed
and started something
neither one of us needed
now
as the pavement sends
up mirages
I think of itches and
how good
scratching can feel
and think
regardless
not all itches
should be scratched
irritation 22Aug95
i listen to your lives
all of them
and all of you
and say nothing
you tell me your troubles
all of them
and everyone of you
and i think while i listen
and not a one of you
has yet done a thing
to remedy any of it
2:00 a.m. 22Aug95
they come
in a wave
of alcohol
they mix
their lives
as they mix
their drinks
they bring
confusion
and chaos
with them
they talk
cliché lines
thinking
they're wits
and
watching them
I see pathos
Autobiopoetry 22Aug95
There is something within me
that asks for human touch
every now and then
and something
that needs solitude
more often than not
there is something within me
that requires me to write
what I cannot say
and something
that refuses to let me
write what is important
there is something within me
that makes me shy
away from you all
and something
that makes me seek
your company
there is something within me
that is contradictory
and seeking
and something
that is strangely content
with all that I am
a day 22Aug95
my dog snoozes in a basket
filled with blankets needing washed
music floats slothfully on the air
warmed to sleepiness by the sun
outside the streets steam mirages
of gas fumes and dancing light
while the birds are silent and still
as the coiled snake
here, before the computer monitor,
i see the day's reflection
and try to capture it in lines of words
before the sun runs from time
1:24 a.m.
Quiet desperation
in 6 lines
or so
This is my age
my race
my hair color
This is my height
my weight
my eye color
I'm single and
healthy
and need someone
This is my life
Will you...
...share it with me
(No Title) 25Feb95
1:56 a.m.
nightmare insomniac
lost cause survivor
living dreams keep your dead
crippled dreamer
dishwater daughter
living dreams keep you dead
soldier or housewife
perhaps even the same
living dreams keep them
Dead.
music IV 26Mar95
Enigma floats the night
turning ordinary spring air
into something musical
something magical
into an elixir of
swirling cerulean
magenta and
luminescent green
the night becomes
a forest, a sea side
an other-world of
desert flowers on sand
A Truth 26mar95
my body twists
dancing turning
falling
strings on my wrists
move my hands -
ever so graceful...
strings on my feet
make the rhythm
of a heartbeat
and the strings
on my tongue
tell you fractions
camigal 26mar95
she was young
when
her country
turned on her
she tried to
find work when
there weren't
any jobs
she had no
experience
in any area
save one
she did
the best
she could
she sold her body
cheap and often
when no one
would buy an
hour or two
she starved
SPiNniNG 26mar95
the eagles rock the night
twisting time into ribbons
morph reality into
a Dali-scape of life
their music cuts my room
out of the cosmos
sets it spinning
into isolated-lone
the words reverse
into a none-sense
that is more profound
than the christian god
melody absorbs everything
taking structure
and breath and thought
until a single note is left
sunset 26mar95
the sun dripped from the sky
a radioactive splendour
of luminescent clouds
and rutherford's gold
The Tragedy 26Apr95
91 coffins
lined with concrete
are in a row
teddy bears
throw roses
into the 8 foot crater
and a nation mourns
* * *
bless-ed be
my children
the teddy bears
and fish unite
to fight the
injustice
that buries the young
unceasingly
* * *
the angels
dip their wings
and flow their tears
before they plummet
into chaos
the demons repent
tonight
for there is Evil
in the world
worse then they
can comprehend
* * *
smiles and wounds
blend as loved ones
are delivered into the air
those who wait
save their tears
that maybe hope
is yet alive
wellspring flows again 04May95
Date: 95-05-04 02:07:32 EDT
Foreshadows
The angels walk tonight
barefooted
on streets cobbled in glass
They peer into steamed windows
to see bloodied noses and thighs
There is not a star to lighten
the dark
that encroaches upon the world
* - * - *
# 6
She stood upon The Hill
looking down upon the grass
covered mound
He was young before he died
before a snakebite turned
into streaks of flame
and devoured his hand
his arm, his body
Her children are beside her
stepping stones of years
the youngest in her arms
They look to their mother
and see an emptiness
deeper than the grave
in her eyes
* - * - *
Insomnia
tonight is a darker night
than the sky and moon warrant
shades of fish
battered teddy bears
and roses
rim my mind
there are circles in which
demons and angels dance
upon ribbons of music
Children gasp
as they surface from
the Mother's womb
and drown upon air
that is thin
thinner than dreams
thinner than hope
molecules twist
themselves into a dreamscape
populated by legend
and myth
to create a new religion
out of recycled gods
and I write poetry
in an attempt to
exorcise them all
so that I may sleep
* - * - *
Vague
there is something in me
tonight
trying to find voice
in
my
awkward mind
something that
I must dream
if I cannot write
something that
will make me cry
as I sleep
and I do not know
what
it
is
* - * - *
I cried once, several weeks back, as I slept. I do not know what I cried for, in those dreams that wrapped my sleeping self tight. I know only that upon waking, I felt a sadness as deep as despair enfold me, and wrench my heart. It passed, as all things do, leaving puzzlement and confusion. The memory of sadness is, even now, fading. It is following the path that memories of pain created. I know not how long I will remember what that sadness was like. And, though sadness is not something to yearn for, when the memory goes, it will take with it something important. A message was born to me on the sadness, and will leave when the memory of sadness fades out of mind.
* - * - *
I do not know why I am writing this to you. And, it is to you. I write one word, then another. Words follow words onto this screen. Eventually I will run out of words. Then I will sleep, and tomorrow when I wake, this will seem as if it were a dream.
There is no knowledge in me of a word that will be next. There is only the sensation of need. There is a need to write that is in full flux. I write because there is something in me that tells me to write. When the thing that rides me empties itself out, I will stop writing.
Perhaps I will not dream tonight.
* - * - *
Predator
silent he waits
breathing the night
into a darkness
that holds malice
his prey is yet
unaware
innocent of the
eyes that stare
into the space
that separates
he waits with
patience
knowing the distance
closes with each beat
he waits
filling the space
with intent
* - * - *
Relationships
The radio plays love songs
of women who follow their men
into a death
And I think that
all women following of men
find a death
* - * - *
Meeting
The angels and demons
dance together
atop the graves
of honest men
and innocent children
and drink from the skulls
of women beaten to death
for failing
* - * - *
I am in an odd mood tonight, spinning snippets and fragments that I do not understand. Why I am in such a mood, I do not know. Today has been mundane until midnight struck. But then, it is 2 a.m. and that is the hour that spirits walk the earth.
from witches to fish to spirits. what will rise at 3?
* - * - *
Do your ghosts walk into your mind when the hour is late and you cannot sleep? Are they friendly, or do they bear razors? I cannot decide if tonight is haunted. If they have come tonight, have they left their chains and their stilettos behind? Are they here to talk? I feel as if they are here, but their presence is gentle and I am confused.
* - * - *
I think about crying. The last time I cried while awake was many months ago. Before that, it was a year. What is the property of tears that they burn and cleanse and soothe all at once?
* - * - *
My fish is swimming around his tank. He was reflected in the window in a dark mirror reflection that was perfect. Tomorrow I will clean the outside of his tank, and watch it gleam. Then, when the light outside has gone, I will take a picture of the tank and the dark reflection. I think the picture will turn out well.
The image haunted my mind for an hour. I closed my blinds and the image has receded.
* - * - *
And the fish swim along the edges of my mind. Alice in Wonderland style, they swim, fin to arm of the teddy bears. And I write.
* - * - *
The Beginning 09May95
Born into Midnight
she was named
Ariel Jade
She answered to Ariel
but named herself
Shadow
Cycles 20May95 -
Saturday morning at 1:30 a.m.
Earthmother
Tears of blood
drip from between my legs
to nourish the earth
and make fertile
the fields
god knows there is
no fertility within me
I am empty
less than a bird's nest
in the middle of winter
The moon spreads
her dead light upon
my brow
mocking and dancing
beyond my reach
and the goddess
is dead
to me
I was young never
and was innocent
no longer than it took
for the birthing waters
to dry upon my face
for the air to come
and drown my lungs
I dream no longer
my sleep is deep and dark
and silent
no children laugh and run
in the night
Soon
I will not sleep
and the fields
streaming coffins
of moonlight
and the dreams
that do not come
will enshroud
someone else
and someone else
will bleed the tears
that sustain this earth
while draining out
her heart
------------------------------
Tidal Moon
there is a tidal moon
in the sky tonight
the stars marking
grave-plots of saints
pull and ebb in the
moonbeam's grasp
until a tsunami
overflows the universe
and all babies drown
--------------------------------
What is Ours
Midnight comes early
grandma said
midnight comes early
but only for women
you see, my child,
men have taken the light
they have yoked it
and made it work
but the moonlight
oh yes, my child
the moonlight is
older than the mountains
it is cold and simple
and it is ours
Midnight comes to us,
it always has
and when it comes,
you must remember
we are once more
free
--------------------------------------
Sadness and hope
and silver moonlight
that turns the evening
braid together into a rope
that hangs us all
------------------------------------
Haunted 12June95
This night is damp and chilling
the rain has left ghosts upon the air
and horror in our bones
The bane-sidhe stalks the window's shadow
to frost us even more
as the moon slides from the sky
on tracks of molten ice
the grave reaches out to touch us
removing the future from our eyes
and we learn the reaper's scythe
by experience
Realization 12June95
yesterday and the day before
I took a trip through my past
and learned that a ghost ancient
was nothing more than a wisp
of stale air gone insignificant
a man's touch 12June95
there is something
different
about the touch of a man
slow and gentle
upon your thigh
something that is
wonderful and
needful
but forgotten when
not present
something elusive
that makes you feel warm
there is something
important
about a touch
of a man
that transcends
words
renewal 12June95
i dreamed of darkness
last night
as the moon slipped
away from this world
and the sky darkened
with dense clouds
i dreamed of warmth
last night
as the blankets wrapped
around me as i tossed
and turned through
the night
i dreamed of moisture
last night
as my bed undulated
with the movements
of my body revolving
i dreamed of a return
to the water's
of the Mother
as the storm raged without
and birth became
inevitable
Milestones 12June95
she was 13
when he came courtin
and sparkin
they married 2
months later
were parents in 10
she had 15
children
in 20 years
11 lived past
that first year of life
6 became adults
he died when
she was 76
leaving her drifting
she wandered
around the house
for another 2 years
she died at 78
leaving 4 children
and 23 grandkids
100s buried her
under a quilt she made
and a tree she loved
the stone at her head
held this:
"Osa May, beloved
wife and mother
1900-1978"
worshipping 12June95
there is the smell of summer
floating on the laundered air
and the grass sparkles
with Her diamonds
a purity rides the breeze
cleansing all life
it touches
and making the light incandescent
we worship Her
without even knowing
what we do
in each deep breath we take
and in each rainbow
we search for
in that child-like way
to renew our souls
flakes of truth 12June95
Indigo Girls spin a spell
of philosophy, relationship
and reincarnation
about the room
tying me in threads
invisible to the eye
and binding to the heart
there is a truth floating
on the air
that I try to capture and
translate into this poem
a truth that is tenuous
and fickle
what used to be truth turns
into illusion and falseness
before it becomes words
and I smell the reality
that surrounds me
and feel futility
roles 12June95
as a girl,
you learn to be
ashamed of your body
but to flaunt it
the way you look
determines
how you will do
all your life
as much,
or even more,
than all other things
such as who you are
or how smart you are
we learn this
at our mother's breast
and our father's knee
we learn this as we play
with our dolls that curve
in ways no human could
we learn this in our schools
and in our churches
but most of all
we learn this in our hearts
Dream Journal Writings Assorted Dates
Dawn 20Apr95
Drowned hair rustles
playing coy with
the fish and crays
Merkle the snake
Charmed by one
blond strand
ventures too close
(No Title) 29May95
The sky turned scarlet
as Earthmother gave birth
to the girl-child
Night came
The sky was blood
drenched in birthwaters
(No Title) 18June95
Mirror, Mirror on the wall
I cannot see myself at all
Midnight's hour has come and past
while bare still lies this looking glass
It wasn't supposed to be this way
banished, alone, to night from day
lost, sinking, with nothing left
dead inside and soul bereft
The House Bitch 18June95
Rugs and toilets and tables cleaned
dishes washed and left to dry
beer and gin and Bacardi and rye
cigarettes, movies, and girls to make
tunes and cars and Cody, too
beer and gin and Bacardi and rye
sweat and sex and nothing to break
and pills to keep his heart in line
beer and gin and Bacardi and rye
encounter 19June95
touch by touch
he convinces her
to come out
of herself
to accept his body
within hers
to accept...
later,
after the color
of his touch
fades from her skin
confusion is left
to drain from
her body
and life, once more,
resumes its path
Sleep-over 19June95
two little kids -
nested in sleeping bags
on grandma's hardwood floor -
wake to Midnight's chime
and the whippoorwill's call
convinced the shadows
have come alive and
are screaming for blood
the kids hold to each other
tears of fright and helplessness
soak the pillows
before sobs awake a grandmother
who is dreaming of
flying aback the 'wills
Irony 29June95
It was late that night
when I looked up to the sky
expecting to see indigo and silver
My eyes opened wide
at the sight of stars
just beyond the reach of
my extended fingers
Nothing in my life
has ever been so tempting
as those stars
And nothing
has ever been so
impossible
to reach
Separations 30June95
The child is parcelled out
like the choicest of meats
and the parents argue
and snipe at each other
meanwhile, emotions
and hurt and dreams
collide as they course
through the tiny body
domestic dispute 09July95
silhouettes upon the wall
bloody handprints upon the door
child crying by the bed
and golden hair matted to the floor
the fool 09July95
I.
He drinks his courage up
and shoves Her back
to the recesses of his mind
so he won't feel guilty
for what he's about to do
she is unsure about this
and protests without result
as his hands roam
II.
he is a fool and blind
for he does not see
a body is cheap
but a mind is priceless
and a heart given freely -
one ever beyond his reach -
is more rare than a true god
The Biker Lady 09July95
tattoos of fantasy run wild
over her arms and legs
while Valiums make her eyes
glaze with unicorns and dragons
entwined with roses
of incandescent scarlet
purple and green hiking boots
encase feet that have seen
many pegs and miles
this knowledge of the world
is etched on her face in lines
finer than tattoo ink
Demoness 09July95
hair that is saloon blond
and truths that never existed
in this world's reality
a life made more of myth
that Eve's and Pandora's
is exposed to warp the weave
of reality and human souls
Fresh Start 09July95
he holds her tight
while the covers wrap them both
to keep them cozy and safe
He is timid about his heart
having been previously gnawed
but holds her close regardless
Bar Scene 09July95
last night
the moon hung
cradled by the stars
one yellow flower
turned ash and glowed
in small perfection
among many indigo weeds
The bar by the hillside
was quiet
with people
being mellow and solitary
Note to a lover 20July95
Hello you
Good Morning
it is the way
you reply
that makes me smile
Life is like that -
full of tiny
insignificant things
that make you smile
Open Invitation 20Jul95
You are looking at me
this bright morning
through sleepy eyes that gleam
with a look
I am growing to recognize
I like it that you enjoy
the way my body looks
I like it that you want
to touch and be touched
You are more than welcome
you know
to any pleasure my body
can give you
Just as you are welcome
to all that I am
and to take what you want
from all that I can give
Music V 20Jul95
the tracks sing
with the vibrant voice
lent them by
the oncoming train
they harmonize
to the base throb
of the turning wheels
weaving a decsent
about the ebb and flow
the river,
upon hearing that tracks' song
joins in with a breathy chorus
punctuated by frog chant
and cricket hum
and we
encircled by light of the fire
listen entranced
to the melody
between nature and iron
Mirror Fragments 23July95
late one night
when I was young
I looked into a mirror
My soul was shattered
leaving fragments
to shread through my flesh
numbed by pain
the void grew ice
to keep forever numb
silent, final tears
traced a last smile
before emotion succumbed
and then,
as dawn opened the sky
I began the day
Acceptance 04Aug95
we are friends
you and i
and that is all
we may be
differing desires
and differing stars
tie us
with bounds unbreakable
and though I love you
there is no tampering
with fate
a pondering 04Aug95
it is human
i think
to always be
wanting
what you can't have
it is human
even still
to know
your own futility
and to resent
and
it is human
to continue
with your life
hoping
anyway
The Storm 04Aug95
young she was
when the storm struck
she watched
as the tornados ripped
away generations
of labor and hope and care
the storm blew itself out
leaving a legacy
...... rip....
Your poem 04Aug95
Young and world weary
not yet mature
a mother of two
how is it
that you describe
a friend
I do not know
she wants a poem
one of my poems
written about her
and I do not know
what to say
she is not definite
and so I cannot be
her mind changes
as quickly as clouds
cover stars
and her addictions
are not tame
she does not yet know
what it is to be a mother
and seeks that knowledge
in a haphazard
sort of way
by turns
she is dedicated
and fickle
she listens
but may not hear
at times
she reminds me
of the forest sprites
before
she turns into a lorelei
a banshee sits upon
her left shoulder
and an angel
upon her right
What is true
about her one day
is false the next
as if the world
reversed in the
course of the night
and while there is poetry in her life,
it is never constant enough
to capture within the lines of a word
regrets sort of 22Aug95
early this morning
before the sun came up
we nestled in your bed
and started something
neither one of us needed
now
as the pavement sends
up mirages
I think of itches and
how good
scratching can feel
and think
regardless
not all itches
should be scratched
irritation 22Aug95
i listen to your lives
all of them
and all of you
and say nothing
you tell me your troubles
all of them
and everyone of you
and i think while i listen
and not a one of you
has yet done a thing
to remedy any of it
2:00 a.m. 22Aug95
they come
in a wave
of alcohol
they mix
their lives
as they mix
their drinks
they bring
confusion
and chaos
with them
they talk
cliché lines
thinking
they're wits
and
watching them
I see pathos
Autobiopoetry 22Aug95
There is something within me
that asks for human touch
every now and then
and something
that needs solitude
more often than not
there is something within me
that requires me to write
what I cannot say
and something
that refuses to let me
write what is important
there is something within me
that makes me shy
away from you all
and something
that makes me seek
your company
there is something within me
that is contradictory
and seeking
and something
that is strangely content
with all that I am
a day 22Aug95
my dog snoozes in a basket
filled with blankets needing washed
music floats slothfully on the air
warmed to sleepiness by the sun
outside the streets steam mirages
of gas fumes and dancing light
while the birds are silent and still
as the coiled snake
here, before the computer monitor,
i see the day's reflection
and try to capture it in lines of words
before the sun runs from time
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