12/28/14

December 2014

The leafless trees
pointed
spiked and sway

the trickle
a stream
flows down around
and away

my breath
finding rhythm
I hum within.

The chill
here and there
around bends and corners
and I do not expect it to be heard
or understood

I am
I am here
to hear and hum
breathe and run
and so I do.

12/25/14

In the mist

Disappear
I can
one day
when it rains
and I have the right boots
fit for long walks

Disappear
one day
I will

12/12/14

Beards and Sands

Sometimes all it takes is a glimpse of the something else
and off the mind goes
on tangents.

In this case,
while reading about explorers
before maps were a household item
far before even a thought of the digital world

I escaped from my hovel of wonderment
into another place.
And considered my fascination
with the 1800's and the life of the explorers who left comfort and sanity
for distant un-American/English/Western lands
and
if it was adequate enough to carry one away.

A man
and his Hungarian wife
caused quite the interest
amongst Africa back then
when they
and mostly her golden tresses
arrived.

I too
follow each person as if they have these
golden tresses
as if they walk
in harmony
with their lover from a distant land.

A watcher am I
to experience
filling in with my breath
what can not be known.
And care not
do I
of details
when all that is left
is faded parchment
turned to dust,
footsteps on the Sahara.

10/26/14

Having Wings

I am at the rope.
Unable to see and content in this.
So, I listen.  I think.  I remain on tangents.

Then, a voice.
It says "What are you waiting for?" and I laugh.
Exactly this, I figure.
Then I go and it is wonderful.

Here, now, so long after that fact, I still wait for the voice.
I can be my own voice yet have fear.
In order to let go of my perceived security, all this stuff that seems real must be embraced
as the make-believe
which it is.
Only then will I be able to use these wings
which have been
so ever
at the ready.

10/10/14

The Corridor.

Was so totally depleted the last few days.  Un-enchantment growing.

Turned a corner after some quiet reflection thanks to music, writing, and talking with others. Seeing that corner now behind me helped recognize something which might be important.  For some people, when help is most needed, they might be completely unable to reach out.  Just slowing down for a few minutes to notice the way the leaves turn in the wind, the way the sun rises, the whole entirety of people on this planet that start out beautiful and free, living fully in the ability to hear, feel, see and communicate... If I did this more often, this slowing down, I might catch the eye of another person down a corridor.  I might see more and differently.

Hear. Feel. See. Communicate.  <3

10/6/14

Beacons

Grown men
Running
To the waters
And i
Amongst them
Accepted
Accepting
Watching
The glowing sky
Go to darkness.

9/10/14

The Princess Bride

I died the day I said
'i do'
The little me I had imagined
blossoming into a great big me
dissolved
behind
duty and responsibility
and
then
I
found
love.
In ten little fingers
and
ten little toes.
And a new me
bloomed
and bloomed

and 
bloomed.

8/28/14

Monday Funday

All I do
is cook and clean
when is there
time to act on dreams?

When lost amongst the dish suds
My other self gathers flowers in heaps
jete leaps
sails in waters blue
singing
dancing
wearing glittering jewels

Women are such beautiful things
they are darkness
they are light
I am beckoned from the horizon line
to gather up and join the procession
those no longer baking the bread
washing the sheets
birthing the babies
...the cooking the cleaning the hiding the weaning
the whining
the judgements
the looks
the confinements

Asking elders what they did?
Oh, doll, you just wake them up
fix them up
prop them up
push them on
make the lines'
drive the cars
build the houses
rape the lawns

kiss the children
love them well
send them off
...to hell?

I stand by and wave
and smile
and lie
yes, life is difficult
suck it up, little one.
My little ones too?





8/19/14

GDR

the motherland
tells her a story
with each step she takes
through mountains of glory
and wooded road ends

meeting her fate.

8/15/14

THE OLDER

THE OLDER

feeling dejected.
Neglected
by my own skin
my shins
black and blue
climbing fences over you.


Turning them against me
yet 
minds for themselves
if the faith persists
they have been on their own side
all along
and that which you have given up for them
has no bearing
aside from the deep welts
the feelings 
depthless
from that vast empty 
echo down in.

7/24/14

And one more makes four.

The Daughter's voice
calls in the night.
Through the stillness
it lingers.

7/19/14

trouble.

So I know that I should be sleeping
and that the morning is sure and soon to come
and I know that there is no reason
however here I sit
thinking of the energy/connection/connectivity between people
whether I like it or not
and I think of a man purely from the standpoint of what I see reflected back at me
or what I feel when he is looking -or thinking -of me.
Am I right? I don't care.
It doesn't matter.

So, in this situation, I get up and text. He is nearby and I know it will be wrong by morning
yet I am compelled.
And so I set in motion a rolling that gets us within connection distance of each other.
Connection distance.

And, there I was
floating
in the pond
in a boat
high and mighty
and gazing at the stars
food for the living night
in whatever shape or form it came in
and what I saw is unexplainable
and unable to be recreated
and mine
somewhere in the deepest recesses of my brain
whether or not I came home with damp feet
and breathless
grinning.

7/17/14

Gardens of Dreams.

Don't know what I am here for
living like wasted space
many avenues
of people slinging the blues
masks to shed
trading spaces, trading beds

If following the heart
is the way to go
who pays for the ads?

The head
leading in another direction
marches in line, in tune
sublime

yet, the soul
the something other
knocking
clocking
follows its own path

brambles
streams
rainbows
dreams
there are no dishes, no laundry, no meetings, no outfits
just feeling
and doing
and
the grin is wide.





7/3/14

Little Dress Black

There is a dress with my name on it
a something
a little something
that has a neckline
causing

a dream
of flashing silver
of a smile and a spark
and a shy gaze towards a magical moment

and fade to black.

Hays Field

the mornings
which could have been early or late
dew on the grasses at the bottom
just drying up on top
running fingers over the tips 
feet following the path
up Hays field
looking for the milkweed
blossoms still tucked into their tidy and perfect felt pockets
the flight path of the monarch leading my way
eyes closed
I can smell the earth
smell the sounds of the day
and I am one with this all
my universe
finding my place
not knowing I needed to be found.

Only later,
later,
having to call what I had been given a name
thinking on the experience
of being wild in the wild
connections to trees and grass and sun and rain
it was a life
and it was mine.



6/9/14

((getting it))

Not knowing about how it will feel
but knowing the focus
the effect
the heat
the touch,

to clear my head to find the space within
sit with it
and breathe.
Listen.

You will want it too.


((And I can get it for you.))

5/6/14

the woman with the long pearls.

the woman with the long pearls.
She was,
and I wasn't.
No matter
nothing
floating
gorgeous
light
glowing (((glow)))
injest it
sequest it
you burn
so slow


***

Strength
through his eyes
green
and into mine
I dream

of her
breathing.


***


4/30/14

boredgames

A battle,
he gets me to talk
then ignores me
like a kids
gathering attention

in his little glass box.

The Basis of FTR

Spill it, sister.  And live free.

This is what we should teach the daughters.

Sisters, of course, already know.

Are you
a daughter or a sister?

A group of women 
A circle 
some hats
more likely,
with smelly cats.
Spinsters?
Fat?
Grotesque?
Who cares?
These ladies-who-lunch 
don't give for the stares.
Just laughing
and smiles
around the globe
Sisters with daughters
wherever she goes.

4/20/14

FTR 1

the fragments are large
and groved
like lands
distant.
Lovely.

And she sat.
And waited.

With wings on.

3/18/14

Intention

The light
Golden
enveloping
unspoken
in smiles
beaming out
surrounding.

The cloud
spun from within
of fear
and greed
a need with no end
no end
to heed.
Shelter
we think
yet destruction
of fortresses
greater than good.
A pestilent pool
of gloom
Misunderstood.

Fragility?
A test.
Challenges?
A quest.
Perseverance.
Honesty.
Truth.
Vision.

Follow the voice
it hums.
This is where
the Golden light
resides.





3/5/14

3/4/14

Feb 2014 performance piece

Performance piece:

In a glass window 
like Bergdor'fs 
writing 
with music on and a crazy outfit and a glass of champagne
giving a lap dance to my spine and my seat to the beat

and I have drawn a crowd
as they draw me

and I have two younger gentleman
stylized
covering my faux pas
with sticky notes to the offending moment
exaggeration at my mortifications
((perhaps the scene calls to draw rosy cheeks and characterize - how blatant is one without the other?))

the piece is saying:  See this woman?  See this woman.
this is woman, see how raw and amazing?
Yet the is edited by whoever you, with viewers baggage.

((-make the two gentleman into anything at any time, they can be a different thing with a tip and top of their hat. simple as that.))



((cast differently for effect, seasons, occurrences, places in time.  styles of an era, attitudes, political performance....))

2/28/14

The Beast

Capture an emotion
a point in time
and that one thing
embody it, that which your voice creates.

songs like characters
characters as music
the sound
captures the spirit
pieces of the piece.

be the sexy
be the sultry
be the beast.

be the vixen
be the girl
be the child

be the teacher
be the learner
be the woman

Rise up
rise up
rise up
and sing.

unedited.

unedited.
untouched.
in tears am I
underneath it all
under ground
hiding the tremors between the piles and piles

when you hear the music out of the pattern
out of context
and you didn't know the voice was talking to you.
and then the music turns to just pulses
and you see yourself
sitting
cold
in a room
below
alone
and you want to punch yourself
and make you bleed
leave a scar to remember
tomorrow
for tomorrow

and pinecones,
they leave a mark
and bark
bark.