Monday, May 14, 2012
Dear Jesus, Who am I, God? Woman, thou art
loosed! Words of love, between you and I, “Intimacy, East of Eden.” The language of
go, the secret language of dreams: absolute surrender, an invitation to friendship,
day by day. The sacred
romance. Love-in the time
From the prompt at rhymes with tao (which I did not submit because I could not find the cord to my camera!)
I had the kids do it too and I think theirs are better.
Here's Annika's (7):
I see a picnic
and how my mom stole
the lightning and
lady with man,
oh, he and she
and I see my math book.
something I don't want
And True's (10):
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
So what If print
this way is for present bringing purpose.
So what If I’m still writing as though in some imaginary
conversation, pretending there’s a challenge, pretending
you are saying stop
And I’m refusing.
So what If it’s only in my head that I defend my freedom to and that I’m once again procrastinating writing
saving for later, thoughts on captivity tales.
I’m breaking free of my own type of bondage and this is
how I do it.
And so what if all I’ve got of actual workable scarlet
letter commentary is not too
much yet; I’ve got enough real
in my life and mind at current
to aid when I get down to work.
I can’t escape
around – in the every
day. Though, Red’s not my favorite, I have wet
and my skin affirms the knowledge of
hunger for a
thought police, the word police, the god police. He knows
and I’m not scared. Chances are, chances took.
Who do you
think you are?
With no fighting chance, fat chance now.
it was a long shot in the first place.
So what, I ramble, rant.
My words, they mean
The grind no longer works and I’m no longer working out
the grind. it's said, Don’t sweat the
is how I sweat it out.
everything has to be a
masterpiece. Sometimes you just spit
it out, work it out and wipe your hands, your feet...
of dust and sudor.
Not everything needs to be
super hard. I’ll align it how I do, how I can,
adjusting how I do every now and
So what if no one
says I see or means
flipping thing when they
So what if I saw contrast in what you said and what you
my share of alteration. There’s irony, comparison to go
around so everyone can own their share.
difference can there be
between slavery and
you Dot your Is and cross your ts and I’ll tittle my
ts and divide
my is and bear my cross cause The coast is clear now, it’s a
sunshiny day and I’m seeing better than ever before.
those nouns, so
I’m steadying up and standing
ground. There was resonation
for a while but resignation
now because I’m not married to a color
but to sound. red’s as good as
cobalt and sea flows like blood and I see pearls emerging
both. WE’re all
let off the hook, not graded on a curve. In a
new york minute, the blink,
wink of a twinkle in the
the wink and quickly point it firm.
Monday, May 7, 2012
In overgrown brush, lush,
and waits amidst
the thrush like chorus of outer work
and inner work and the silent
science of it all,
cultivating flora framework
for the growth and fare and fair
she may one day drink
and have her
fill. Bursting forth, exploding bloom, she
surveys the work and knows full well that much
has come from one who started out
shimmers, glimmers graciously
with much ado,
aiding progress and she notices
now the need,
brought, propels and gives.
With singleness of heart, she
diligently shears – allows- that she, herself
might be grafted into this prized
place that she adores. It’s
voiceless here ‘cept for the whisper of the wind
which she recognizes well and
she’s the only creature
and therefore safe.
She’s untamed and breathing, coming into life, domesticated,not. It’s the sky that will train her. She’ll take her
cues from hues and clouds, gladly
gulping rain. The wide world
waits but she
no wish to leave her habitat of heaven where, light,
she’s buoyant body. She knows not the
meaning of inhalation but steady, focused anyway, she
swills the air. Staying is what
seizes, understands and toil,
instrumental which brings
she can not
so, by so much sufficient satisfaction.
How can she know so much and so
little and still be still? It’s the versant,
of veined but violet
vision where introspection ripens into more than
speculation and all
bright. She doesn’t see her skin
here; it’s pallid colored but
still allowed to blend with seed or star and she lodges,
burrowed, anchored to exist in absence of
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Really, what can I say but,
Thank you? Honestly. Because there was enough felt
love ( if not real – and who’s to say?)
for a time, to
get me away.
And if it
was going to happen later, I’m glad it happened sooner.
So, thank you.
Maybe I ought not reveal much
more (though I often can’t keep silent) because
who am I to debate or fight or plead? And what would
I be pleading for? There are truths all
though I believe there’s a difference between opinion and
conviction, we all in the
end have to choose what
for us. And I’m trying not
to be angry cause I see how fruitless that really is
and I’m trying not to
guess at how you must have
seen me cause turns out I
saw you all wrong, too.
words are not for you.
but for me – to remind me later
of my strength
and the fact
that a heart can break but
pounding. And there’s a bigger purpose. I no longer
long for less than what I have. It’s not about ideal. It’s about
that on a certain level, I won’t and can’t because vow or not,
a man is called but if he
heeds it not a woman will.
So I have.
I’m stating now
that it’s not
okay, by me – and that’s okay. But for the record, I never
saving – only staying
and your reasons are yours
and mine are mine. At thirty-three
I’m dying now to self,
finally and I’m ceasing the impossible
of meeting Jesus in a fallen man. I don’t need to crucify you
for what you could not give and why bother with
that yearning when I am already
loved. I was bought with a price and belong to only he who
thought of me above all.
So…much obliged that you fed me when I was starving.
I see, we’ve both had
our fill of any ephemeral delicacy
and objects in the mirror -
are now behind me.
true image is within.
I’m pleased I could entertain you, let you play your role
and I played mine and though I wasn’t acting, I learned
to let the curtain close.
I’m done with all high
drama, ready to
the romance offered long ago.
And in the finale, you know
is over? That need for you to understand. I don’t care what you
think and I mean that in only the nicest possible way.
If actions speak
louder than words, yours have released me and I don’t want
need an explanation. I want
to walk away, head held
high, in honor, dignity and
What will be will be and I will now be still but later if you hear me
know I laugh at me and not at you because what else am I going to
do? It’s true-I’ve been flipping coins, of late,tossing ‘em with a
prayer, thinking that:
what else am I supposed to do? It’s all new but glorious, too.
Soon and very soon, they say and that soon is now the past.
The future’s where I’m focusing.
more than a decade in appeals, in making cases for my worth and
right. I am guilty but aren’t we all? And guilty or not, I’ve been set
free, ransomed, so you won’t find me banging on the prison door.
wedded to, too long, the notion that if I
was cherished properly, void of all suspicion, maybe I could be the
savior. Either way, that’s all mixed up.
So it’s not vain to fly now, ethereal at last, as long as I’ve
successfully let go
of earth. The higher I soar above what no
one in this calamity craved anyway, the
clearer my vision becomes.
I never fathomed
eagle like I was till I met you. Studiously, I studied and now have
I’m not a snob. I just don’t belong and want no more to
There’s a genuineness in this that
could not have been discovered in any other way,
which is why you’re
the villain nor even marked erroneous because you took it as far
as you could. That fact, once declared, that I could have
taken it further; there might lie the
must add that it did not go unnoticed, that yours you
gave from get
go and when I at last returned the
sentiment, you rescinded
would be a deception to suggest that it doesn’t somewhat
(considerably) sting (as close as we did eventually
stand)but I allowed the pittance, waded in it,
the offering, in trust and that permits me peace and
license now to swell from this horizontal standing ground
which only ever kept me down. I’m quickly
discarding any hint or
write. It’s therapeutic and who doesn’t have the right
to heal? I’m laying claim to making good on all allegiance
hereby non-observed. All you have left to do is continue tune
me out, turn me off. Done.
The counter-poison serves as balm
but in the end
I’ll die. So, my words,
no longer use as darts,
swallow all lingering resentments. I’m improving
“So raise your glass if you are wrong in all the right ways.”
Whether I’ll find there’s more to say, I can not
say at present just
that I’m wrapping up for now
the exanimate phantasm
where I was – what?
and you were dashing, brave. I suppose a peace
in order and so
my resignation. I never was quite war-like enough
that’s for your sex and not mine. Doves depart
as you all search out, relentlessly, some unnamed and invisible
leave you to it and I have my thoughts but
those, I’ll leave to me. My
sings but one last note: I, after all,
that woman in the woods. For, I could
never, seven years after, hold a
coward as he made amends. God would and he’d forgive but I
would have boarded ship, and never would return.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
I had a dream where the world, I saw as though
through a window, the glass clear,
the scenes not but rather air drawn and I sat, staredthough they
and figured what it meant, what
they meant to
me and to
other, these stick like figures, moving. And I dreamt I was awake
and they were not,
moved rapidly and I was
still. Briskly, they seemed to bustle in and out ofone another’s
lives….and business. Births and deaths, as though all in mere moments.
A blurred display or show of young and old
alike carried on and the players detected me not.
know not if
I existed as the seasons threaded through
this one short night. And I wondered if I
to join them but could not grasp their
apprehend what I might add so I continued only watch. The mundane
appeared as fascinating as a
horror show and the grotesque only perplexing, as I felt safe within
And soon, it came that perhaps I ought
to leave, return to bed and them but I could not
avert my gaze. Hours, or at least it felt as
such, passed, but years
outside the window and finally, my eyes began to droop. I had almost
succumbed when a startling vision struck them open wide again.
It was nothing and everything. A man
among them, humble in appearance but more vivid than all the rest. I
rubbed my eyes. His dress, plain but
stark and his
movement, mesmerizing. I had a sudden urge to leap from where I
perched and join him, for he seemed to be searching
yet unseen by all. Often, he would lean close to one and appear
to whisper into a wanderer’s ear but
the stroller would stroll along without pause or
flicker. My heart ached as
I watched this
scene play out again and
again until at last someone stopped
and turned .
man or woman, I could not
looked at the
stranger but it was
as though try
as they might, could not perceive him. I wanted, then
to shout, “He’s right there!”
before I could, I awoke, regrettably, in my bed, turned my head and
gazed out the window.
Carry on Tuesday