Tuesday, March 20, 2012

8

this isn't a poem
no rolling layered missive steeped in
archaic love myths & quantum quarks of missing
i just want to be 8
8
1966
living in a house the width & breadth of the universe
and a basement for playhouses & poker
8
long white golden hair & green eyes
captivated by Disney animation, books & rock-n-roll
standing on the bed & singing for you
oblivious of hours . . yet soaked in the cries of the shallow & empty
8
Peter Max days & Led Zeppelin nights
And if I could have that blue bicycle . . war will cease & Bobby Ellis will come home
I will grow up to be an artist . . a puppeteer . .
and every day will taste like
a indigo-blue-blossom-spring-solstice
8

Monday, March 19, 2012

petricor

sometimes it's easy to abandon all musings
on
cosmic folly & rolling hills ....
to take up a fist of soil & work the earth thru the passing of the hours,
to battle amongst those who can look sky ward and see no stars
see no force there
but blue.
to rumble along ignorant of ardor & fascination & truth
merely to delude oneself into thinking that this is how it should be ....
hard work and sleep make up the days ....
habit follows habit follows habit ... follows
into the yellow chalk-outlined box of tomorrow
until
something slips,
something tilts ....
into a particle of possibility
perhaps it is a smell on the wind
a song on the radio while strolling thru the frozen foods looking for
bright green peas and razberries
something awakens in the pit of your chest
the bone of your thighs
the spaces in your heart
the burn stirs
and you hope and want and yearn and breath
in
him .
.... and all events and passions and senses
collide to entice you to rattle the bars of your cage
to stomp and shout and
mark your scent upon the piece of
sky & earth
that calls you
home

Sunday, March 18, 2012

i was were am bird

I WAS
THE girl chosen last because I was skinny & my knee socks didn't stay up
I was the girl who thought she could change the molecular pattern of
objects and create snow
or an apple
I was the girl who understand when ken & barbie started sleeping together,
It was time to pack up the toys & turn up Led Zeppelin
I was the girl who knew every homeless animals name in the whole wide world
and if I thought hard enough, could keep them safe & warm
I was the girl who danced on her bed while singing Hey Jude & Henry the 8th I am am ...
I was the girl who learned about music, weed & how to dance from the best neighbor-boy in the world . He was 3 years older, gay & funny. He took me to his senior prom. He died of AIDS.
I was the girl who had a golden ticket to Camelot & a green Pontiac convertible
I was the girl sitting alone at the river knowing answers pooled there along the
sandbars & reeds and if I thought hard enough - prayed hard enough,
I would hear those answers and I could then fix things
I was the girl who discovered James Taylor,
Jack Daniels & orgasm in the same evening - while babysitting
I was the girl who followed meadowlarks down rabbit holes
I was the girl who married to escape only to be bushwhacked by the karma bus
I was the girl who found Wonderland under your hands
I was broken girl ; weary & afraid, missing pieces of bone & heart
only to discover I had them all along
bound to my soul with a ribbon of goldenrod & blue sky
I am that girl . . .
And now I don't wear knee socks or underwear
I still believe if i think fiercely enough, I can shield animals from harm while changing
Apples into Snow
I am 2 degrees away from knowing Robert Plant
So I sing Led Zeppelin with abandon from beds, bars & cars
I have always lived in Camelot & i folded my golden ticket into a tiny origami sparrow, and Placed it inside a wee blue bottle on a thin silver thread
Marriage is ethereal & a good escape plan.
All the best stories have an escape plan.
I have been to Wonderland, and some of my best missing pieces are still there ...
Every answer to any question can be found in a JT song, a Beatle's song, or a river's song
Karma bus - well , shit happens. Live like you are dying even when you are weary & afraid .
I have stopped trying & wanting to fix things.
And strangely, things fix.
I am the broken girl and I am goldenrod-blue-ribboned-sky & a meadowlark's song

Friday, March 16, 2012

intent of the fall












be aware of the places love takes you ...
 
despite the fact that 
fear, pain, regret, sadness
confusion 
may barricade the awareness of loving another
the connection of love lingers & pulses to its own rhythm 
breathe into the knowledge of connection 
know that this holds no risk for you.
... to acknowledge the love
without fear of losing yourself 
or putting yourself at risk for harm 
taps into the freedom of a heart that knows unlimited capacity
breathe into your heart
feel it open
risk without risk
love without ego
fall



Friday, March 2, 2012

ditty


because you need some one to love you
yes, to use that rusty word
to walk the minefields of your sorrow
and to taste that honeyed cure
strive for blue sky
with an eye kept to hell
righteous calling . .
and they thought they knew us well . . .
and I will love you
as stars love the night
and I will carry
your desires wrapped closely tight
and I will hold you with
this ancient burning light
in that field beyond
that knows both wrong & right . . .
because you need someone to love you
with all your scars of war
to take your hand old and knowing
cut the chains and reach for more
strive for redemption
found in places no one knows
tender mercies
as we walk this path alone. . .
and I will love you
all your hunger and your steel
restless longing
to hold on for all these years
masked & veiled to all those who ride upon the night
and I will kneel there
in the field of wrong & right ,,,,
because you need someone to love you
yes, who smells of grass and spring
to let you know
it's alright when your gray soul sings . . .
to that blue sky
as you laugh at hell's attempt
to trap your spirit
and sink you to its depth
and I will love you
in colors bold and bright
shadowed haunting
as we soar up thru the night
tempt the cosmos
with our power & delight
as we meet in our field past wrong & right. . .
as we meet in our field of wrong & right. . .