Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Dead, Not Gone

I woke up dead this morning
yet I still had things to do
I made a pot of coffee
pancakes and eggs too.

No blood was flowing through my veins
as I put the clothes away
numbness overtook me
as I saw the break of day.

Come upon us now
the brilliant morning sun
all their footsteps down the stairs
no one noticed, not a one

Dead inside, heart closed off
every dream expired
I wiped the counter, moved the plate
and all I felt was tired.

Tired of trying to be what
I'm never meant to be
the perfect mother, wife and child
no none of them are me

So I will choose this death instead
and live my life encased
in this casket called my skin
behind this empty face.

Friday, December 4, 2009

Esmerelda's Vision

I had been having a hard time seeing what was in front of me, though the side view was crystal clear...always,and the look behind emblazoned in my mind. I gues that is what led me to give it a try. I thought I'd only do it for a few moments, just to see what if felt like, but then...it stretched into more.

Now I seem to be stuck with it, and it has created a barrier for me that feels insurmountable. How did this happen? I went from slightly blurry to completely blind. When I wake each morning, I no longer wonder if it's going to be a good day...I just wonder what time I'll be able to take my first hit.

I don't know what is coming at me. I don't care...too much. I can't see who or what is beside me anymore...I can't care. No memories remain of what has passed me by...I won't look.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Part One: Contemplation

Through the window she could see the dark clouds blowing across the black sky. The weather was changing quickly. Stepping out into the dark yard she slipped on the stairs and pulled the leash back to grab the rail. The pup gave a small whine."Sorry, I was falling." She whispered as she leaned down to pet his fur. The wet grass soaked through her pant legs and she wished she had not already donned her pajamas. He nosed around the yard; everything seemed to be interesting to her charge. She let him pull,losing herself in thoughts of the evening.

She had so hoped to get the job, but now it was clear that the opportunity was lost to her. Putting in the time was more important than she'd realized,and she hadn't gone to any of the university social events, preferring to hide out at home when the evenings came. It didn't matter that she was the most skilled clinician. She could hear the cars in the distance, but her pet was oblivious, digging in the dirt after some hidden creature. If life could be so easy that the things she wanted lay just beneath the surface, she would drop to her knees and dig beside him. But her answers were not to be found so easily. She had hoped to be further along by now. In a position to pay back some of her loans, but that prospect had slipped through her fingers again. Sighing she tugged on the little schnauzer and turned toward the house. She gasped and took a step backward, now seeing the figure who had been standing behind her.

"How long have you been there, Stephen?"

"I just came...I rang your bell, but you didn't answer."

"That usually means that someone is not home. It is quite late, perhaps this could wait until after class tomorrow?" He moved toward her slowly,kneeling down and offering his hand to Skip to smell. The dog licked his fingers and sat back on his haunches, watching the two.

"I just had a quick question for you. I thought you'd be at the department dinner tonight." She noticed now that he was wearing a dark suit and tie. She'd never seen him dressed formally. It suited him. He was a blue blood after all, as were most of her students.

"I have office hours tomorrow at 1:30. That would be the appropriate time to ask me any questions you might have. I do not entertain students in my home...or my backyard."

"I understand." He rose to his feet, standing directly before her, and she took another step back, though Skip stayed rooted at his feet gazing up at him in admiration. " I'll see you then." He turned to leave.

"What is the question?"

"What?" Stephen turned back toward her. She cursed her impulsivity. She should have let him leave, but the curiosity had gotten the better of her.

"Yes, the one question that was so important that you somehow felt it warranted coming to my home at this time of the evening." He shrugged.

"I wondered why you weren't at the dinner." He gave Skip another rub between his ears. "I went thinking that you would be there. It was boring as hell."

She laughed. "And that should tell you why I wasn't there. It is bad enough making small talk with my colleagues when I have to, but I simply cannot stand to sit around eating ridicuous food and listening to pompous self-congratulatory speeches. You better get used to it though, if you want to go anywhere in this field."

"Wanna go for a drive with me." She gasped and pushed past him toward the house pulling poor Skip along.

"I will see you in class, Stephen." She retreated through the back door and slammed it shut. He paused for a moment, and walked back around the house. She let Skip off his leash and moved swiftly through the house to look out the front window. Stephen was climbing into his Subaru. She opened the front door a crack and peaked out. His engine idled for a moment and then he drove off slowly.

She stepped out onto the porch. The clouds had cleared and the sky was filled with brilliant starlight. Searching for constellations, she wondered what might have happened on that drive.

Friday, November 13, 2009

After Sleeping

Something lurks
close enough
that the uneven rhythm
of its ragged breath
awakens her
staring into
the darkened shadows
beside the worn out armchair
there is a shift
its presence made known
by a faint rustle
an oily odor
fills nostrils
she tries to hide
in her sleeping self
but he knows
she has stopped
breathing

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Music Man

My earliest memories of you
are filled with song
a tinkling of notes
and a soft dry voice

Always loving words
from your lips
to my young ears
starving for their nourishing
warmth

Your soft honey love
will stay with me
even as the chimes
ring the last note

I know the lyrics
they are mine now
the lingering melody
stays in the air

I may raise my lips
and wail this night
but tomorrow
I will lift my voice
with the song
you gave to me

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

ice cold November waters

How can I drown
when I know how to swim
when I wear my life vest despite
it's lack of fashionable
integrity
paralyzing integrity
stops me from climbing to the roof
and screaming invectives
from tearing up the roofing with
bare hands and
throwing down the
shingles on
pedestrians

Monday, October 19, 2009

Suffering

The unease of not knowing what will happen next
The discomfort of immobility
of limbs tight and weak
trapped beneath cotton sheets.
Remembering what came before
Dancing and twirling on that smooth floor before losing
Toes and tibia to awaiting microbes.

Immune to medical breakthroughs
Knowing that next
an unknown hand
wraps around and holds on to
neck and ribs...

and works it’s fingernails into the cracks
popping air sacs
once fresh with moonlit air
now wilted with the stale breath
Of an ending
Unbidden,
Unprepared
Unbelievable
And unavoidable

suffering

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Temporal Break

Speaking of the end of the world.

2012



It strikes me that though an uneven number, that date is too unremarkable to hold the truth. It seems that it should have been a nice round number like 2000 or even something more impressive like 2500 that does us all in, but 2012, no it doesn't work for me. It only adds up to 5. There are five of us living here in my house. Hmmmm, what does that mean?



Is the end of the world meant to be a relative terminology for the end of our world? For something so catastrophic that the end of the world is the way we feel. Will one of us be removed...or all of us? Yikes. I cannot even write the thoughts that are so specific as to suggest the demise of my family and immediate and intimate loved ones, yet I seem to have no problem pondering the end of everyone's world and can flippantly listen to talk of Nostradamus and apocalyptic dramas that seem to be emerging in the world political climate as well as the actual climate.



Should I be afraid of the end of the world? In my personal experience, the end of something inevitably means the beginning of something else, even if it is the beginning of a time of nothingness or absence; it is still a beginning. A beginning means newness and newness is scary.



The beginning of the world. The rebirth of the earth, how can I hasten its arrival?

Will it come in like the birth of a child with pain and suffering and blood and gore? It may be that the rebirth happens on a daily basis, and we have simply to stop and take note to appreciate the birth of a new dawn, new dreams and new fears.



Though some of the old fears persist, new inadequacies and dangers poke their head above the water each time a new day begins.



A wise young man once told me that if we just knew for sure what the purpose of our lives was, we would have a peaceful world with no fear of war and strife and no worry about the mystical and spiritual realities that seem to surround us, yet often elude us. If we only knew. What if we do know, but we don't want to accept that we are here to be here? That we exist to procreate and every other pursuit is driven by our own fears of the end of it all. Is that enough? What purpose would be enough to truly erase our fears and allow us to live and breathe and pursue our goals without jealousy, hatred or power struggles.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Baby Turtle

Crossing my path
his little flippers were moving a mile a minute
and he barely cleared any space

I hesitated, then chose
chose to help him...
The sand he had been buried in still clung to his shell
and he felt like paper in my hand.

Drawing into his shell
he froze upon my palm
feeling so cool.

I nestled him in the grass beside the pond
Surely his intended destination
then I began to fret
was he supposed to grow stronger from the journey?
Did i rob him of his opportunity to overcome and persevere?
Would he be able to handle life
in the deep water?

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Graceful Octopus

Unbelievably, I have done it again. It is never intentional, yet always predictable. The goal was to finish. The food cooked and waiting in pots under lids for the hour of hunger, just like my mother-in- law used to do it. The house spotless, swept floor, clean clothes, happy children grinning and hugging, enjoying one another. I had plans to sit under the tree in his hammock warming it up. Letting it sway in the wind, lost in a book. Lost in a story that would be deep and moving and fast-paced and unpredictable, but it's been 12 hours since I woke up, and I haven't gotten there yet. The sky has darkened and the temperature has dropped and I am ignoring the grumbling children and farting dog to write this piece of ...art.

I drank a big mug of coffee too,this late in the day. To falsely energize me into actually cleaning the mess and organizing to perfection, so that the next day, nothing will need to be done. Nothing. Just maintenance and I will be able to rest without a cloud of anything above my head. After fusing two guinea pig cages into one and washing the sheets and cooking a meal I've yet to clean up, I wonder if I'll be able to find a screwdriver to put together my new $9.99 bookshelf. This shelf will heal all of the disarray that exists in my life. I just know it. After all if everything has a place and everything is in its place, there will be room for my true self. I usually wrap it up and hold it all in, but once I make the space, my great big self is enormous and expands with dancing tentacles to every corner. I am an octopus...with grace.

As I peeled the potatoes hours ago, I thought I was almost there. Then, oops, I must have had my eyes open, but somehow I couldn't differentiate between potato and fingertip. Now even as I type this through my bandaid I feel the throbbing of my failure. I cannot make it look easy, even when it is easy. I cannot make it seem simple, though it must be simple. I will give up for another day, and start again where I left off. It will feel as if there is more undone and I am starting back three steps. I'll reread this and I will know that really, I've already peeled the potatoes on Wednesday, so I can cross that cumbersome task off my list. I will hug the kids and tell them I love them. Then I can cross that off too. Sleep will come eventually. I will be alone inside myself. My list forgotten. I will dream of the ocean.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Too Long

It's been too long since I saw your face and
looked into your eyes to find myself.

They trained upon me with a dark intensity
my stomach twitching with a churning unease.

What do you see?

Too long since your cheek pressed mine and
pricked me with the growth of unguarded days.

Waiting for full lips to replace the rough sand paper cheeks
my scalp warm with the rush of fresh blood.

Can you feel it?

Strong smooth arms smelling of citrus and sweetness too long
left alone to wrap in my own weak criss cross embrace

Sensing you behind me resting your chin upon my hair
my nostrils flare reaching for your scent

Will you return?

You make me wait.

Too long.

Monday, July 13, 2009

A trusted voice

Harvesting her music
I am renewed
connecting to the
passionate undertakings
wrapped up
in sinews and skin
chased by the
bada bee bada bum
beating dance of the drum
meaningless to the uninitiated

the voice doesn't need to sing
merely a whispered "go"
ending a paralysis of conservative
hypersuburban venom
I can run
run until it fades behind me
and my own song can
rise up
and dance on the wind

balanced on the hot breath of
a new melody created with
intertwining strings of curled hair
glinting in the sunlight
frizzing as
a hot neck sways
and pops
and locks into place
a dream
of total release.

Friday, June 26, 2009

z-words on my mind

zealots, zenith, zoo
zipping, zigging, zagging
zany

jump on board
throw some back.

Hummingbird

Hummingbird

zipping in to steal a sip
a fleeting glance
and then
you are gone
yet,

you will return
you always
do

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

A Question Unheard

It was as though the sound had been turned off. She moved through the room caught in her head. There were colors in her mind's eye swirling red and orange, in the corners of her sight. Looking past them was impossible though the wall before her was clear. She could move.

The bed covers she hastily pulled up to cover the pillows though they remained wrinkled. She had chosen a comfortable cotton dress that gave her large belly plenty of free movement and it hung on the door awaiting her. The boys giggled and burst forth with spitting shooting noises huddled together in their room. She shuffled down the hallway to check on them, but paused at the door.

The coolness of the wood felt lovely against her palms. An internal pulsation began behind her left eye. Her mind focused inward. Closing her eyes, she listened. Though a room away, the water in Walter's shower sounded faint. She heard a flow of liquid in her head. She could just see a rectangular form sneaking before her eyes. Sliding down to sit on the floor, she tried breathing deeply. A burning sensation gripped the back of her neck. In through the nose, blow it out. It wasn't working; her lungs tightened. She panicked. Grabbing the fibers of the carpet, she licked her lips and breathed in once again...no air. Blackness slid in from the edges.
" Are you dressed? We've got to be there in fifteen minutes." He barked through the door. She fell to her side, his question unheard.

Monday, June 1, 2009

A Good Read

How much time would it take until she finally realized he was not coming back?
How much time would it take until she finally realized she did not want him to come back?

moments last as long as she notices them
passing
passing
by on the way
to the end of the story
Someone has already arrived there,
and he is saving her a seat,
not in the front of the room
so she'd have to wear her glasses

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Neighborhood Watch

up too late again
I find the end of the day
dawns and
still the keys continue to meet me
dancing
in a stiffened husk of
crystallizing flesh

loosened with a whistle
of tea water and steam
opening the envelope of
meaningful discourse
only to find
my neighbors
at rest behind
darkened shades

upon awakening
will the plan
hidden
behind authorized posts
be considered for
approval

Monday, May 18, 2009

Strategic Happenstance

Walking along the dark country road, he didn't see that
she was watching.
He pulled off his oily t-shirt and swatted at his back
finally stuffing it into the back pocket of his faded blue jeans
where it would swing as he moved along.
Craning her neck she watched
as he rounded the bend
swallowed up on either side by
the scarred birch trees.

A chance meeting
was not
in the
cards.

Friday, May 15, 2009

My car is ready
I can't believe my ears

What? I shouldn't start it
or try to shift the gears?


The seats, you lost them...sure I'll stand up
As long as it still has the holder for my cup

The window is jammed shut, it can't be rolled down
I'll just use air conditioning when I am driving around

The money, I have it. Well its in the bank
What do you mean this is a card that you don't take?

I've been waiting for a month now and exactly 6 days
No not Nationwide, just me who'll pay

Sure I have a check I'll make it out right now
The date on there will have to be a week from now

No, you won't accept it, it has to be today?
Good-bye then, I guess I'll be on my way.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

In the Light of Day

At some point long ago,
she had lost herself.
She could find remnants,
but they were worn down
and threadbare.

Today, she found a clue.

If only she had looked sooner

before

before the nothingness of blurred vision
bright and blinding
had overcome

before the victim
could interfere
with retrieval

of her glimpse,
her vision of
a woman
standing

Monday, April 27, 2009

Godspeed

A burning itch plagues
eyes
it tugs at concentration
creating dual images of
letters floating
transforming
betraying
a visionary's glimpse
of the straight road

a highway painted
double lines merge
to one yellow hot
streak of
direction removed from
that landmark
sought to ensure
a discovery of safe passage
for them all
it remains undiscovered

Never arriving
they cannot turn
and
go home
the path
is straight
...and narrow

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Forgetting

When will midnight clarity
remain whole with the dawn
a vision of movement
of the right words to say
dreams to remember
plans to pursue

Can I open the veil
of shadow?

transparent darkness
closed off
with blinking lids
it falls into place
with wrinkled finality

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Tango: A Prologue

There wasn't really any reason for leaving at that moment. The sun shone high above them and the wind had remained light throughout their visit. The waves were calm and no one was tired or hungry or even whining. But...she packed it all up anyway: the remnants of Kentucky Fried Chicken with biscuits, each leg with a chunk of meat still clinging to the bone and three half drunk Sierra Mists watered down with melted ice and one still full. These she dumped in the nearby metal mesh garbage can much to the delight of the waiting sea gulls. They dove into the trash to retrieve the delicacies before she was even a decent distance away from them.

She was done. Capping the fallen sunscreen she shoved the towels into her bag. She didn't expect their trip to work any miracles, but if only for the children, she'd expected him to show up. It was so lonely sitting on the blanket watching Stephan and Melanie run across the beach. They knew she wasn't happy and kept their distance. Even now as she waved to them, beckoning for their departure they tripped back along the beach turning their faces to the waves. She sank onto the sand and lay the folded umbrella across her lap. Maybe he was waiting until after lunch.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

...Old Starlet

A tightness grips the back
of her neck
a vice-like grip
invades
her thoughts, stopping
all melody

the song is silenced.
choked by her own
perseverance

there can be
no preservation
of organic harmonies that will
be smothered
before leaving her lips but find
hope
in her fingertips

Friday, March 13, 2009

Escape

A blue black night
starlight on the eastern edge
she cannot see

pine needles sticky
sharp
marking passing cheeks

a call in the darkness one
to another...

she runs

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Remembrance

Who knew the tides would turn
washing me ashore in a different place
where I could be outside
looking in

and inside looking out and on
and over
all at once.

Who knew that I'd evolve and find my way
through uncertainty and mortality
only to dream of finding my way
back to the time

when fear paralyzed action.

When the list was endless
and the contracts remained
unsigned.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Beginning to Spin

Spiraling is how I best describe my life. There are many passions that motivate the circular motion. Directions I feel I must journey. They are not meant to be sequential but rather, they are concurrent, continuous and connected. Journeys with others, where we dance together for a few steps and then move on into the light or behind the curtain only to meet again later in the second act, are those that reconnect me to the earliest versions of the spiral. It is by this new connection that an old journey can be revisited and new lines drawn.

At some point the lines drawn in the dirt were straight. Start...work...dream...create...work...finish, but true reflection reveals that the ending never truly arrives. Never. Never is forever. Forever is a circle and a moving circle picks up velocity, causes great wind tunnels and spins off into space. A tornado creates its own life force and travels independently of the surrounding landscape My feet still touch the ground, so I have a long way to go. So I spin; child to friend to lover to child to mother to child to lover to dancer to writer to dreamer to mourner to child to dreamer and dreamer and lover and mother and friend and...so I spin.