Centered

No matter my weakness,
No matter my failure,
If this is it,
If this is as good as it gets,
I am proud to say,
That in all of my life,
I accomplished this.

My Favorite Goodbye

Today is my goodbye to 2007 and I'm having a blast!

I am going to bury it with all the flare of a Viking funeral and glory in what I've turned myself into thus far while embracing the me I wish to fully be.

I had mentally set aside 2008 as an exciting year since my birthday will be 08-08-08 and I love things in threes. But, that was long ago ... long before I thought the year 2000 was a thing I would touch. When you are a child, anything that you cannot feel immediately is far, far away, and NOW, back then, was just that.

Far, far away.

Back then, I would use my future self as a focal point. My anchor to the future to pull myself and hold myself to my goals.

Now, while watching the innocence in my children's eyes and the purity of their love for all the things they love, I have chosen a new focal point.

Today is an exciting day for me. I have prepared for this mental shift for a long time and I am enjoying the snakelike slithering out of a skin that was beautiful while it was mine.

Today I kiss every part of me that I've built and I say, good job, Ms. Johnson.

I bid farewell to the anchor that I have clenched for my entire life, and, so far, this is my favorite goodbye.

Dear Sasha:

Dear Sasha:

About your muse,

While you’re chewing on her,
Does she chew you up too?
While you’re drinking her to get that warm part of you warm,
Dear Sasha,
please tell me,
is she drinking you too?

Are you broken when you find her
or are you you and then she breaks you?

Is yours poison like mine?
Does she kill as she breeds?
Does she make you fat to make her full?

If not,
then,
Dear Sasha,
please teach her to me.

52 Post 52

What if?

What if is good.
It makes us flip inside out and being inside out is good

if we are born
to be oh so bad
then
being inside out of ourselves must be the goodest of goods

so, let’s jump on this rug and make ourselves flip
insideout
let’s get inside out of ourselves and when our right selves bump into each other’s right selves,
for once,
baby,
we get it right

wanna get it right everytime with me
let’s get inside out
wanna go with me?

not gonna cure you, but it’s gonna feel good
wanna get inside out next to me getting inside out and see if we are really just one

are you real?

You ask how

I grab my SELF and I grab my RIGHTNOW and I hold on tight to both and smash them together until they are ONE.

That's my way.

Have you found yours?

Lovesong (to Insomnia and Lost Stuff)

I'm about to go make a bad decision or two.

If you love me, please make me stop

make me stop make me stop make me stop

make me stop on my way out of the blue room to turn off my ringer so i won't be interrupted

i'm gonna stay up late and watch a movie that i borrowed from me mum because i want so very badly to stop thinking for half a second and let the world unwind itself from the jawbone of my mind

and you

i want so very badly to stop thinking for half a second about you

***

i call it lovesong to missing gat damm digital camera cord and gat damm missing remote control batteries and banged shins and having to wedge my body in through a crack in my unwheeled sliding patio door which i absolutely love, by the way

Guilty as

sin,

that is,

IF sin's where you've been,

cuz, mister, I'm guilty of you,
cuz, mister, I'm guilty of you,
yes, mister, I'm guilty of you.

wherever you've been,
i've been there too,
cuz, mister, I'm guilty of you.

i'm guilty as sin,
if sin's where you've been,
cuz, mister, i'm guilty of you
i'm guilty as guilty ol' you.

Charged

the in-bee tween you and me stuff is just like it is here but it's ... well, with no big or small space, just magnet purple sky that sucks the best of you and the best of me up into it and then chews up our bodies and vomits them kerplunketyplunketydustbowlsplat into the eye of the storm that's created when you mix up the best of you and the best of me ... well, it's a swirling, sucking twistlooptyloop cycle of you and me bits that resembles a litter-filled texas tornado, but the litter is just denser bits of you or me, and then, my favorite, the sparkly bits, that youmeglup

the in-bee tween you and me stuff, that's some potent shit

Nothing of the sort

God, this is good.

But, what makes it pretty damn perfect is this:

It's good hot and is pretty wow because it smells up the whole house with that warm kinda melty sweet smell. Of course, that's good. But, when that same food can kinda chill with you, like they say not to do in a food handler's course - like you get up early Christmas morning to make scrambled eggs and chocolate chip panty cakes and then you eat some then ... and you know the house smells wow because you stepped outside ... and you were only gone a second, but then, when you came back in, wow ... it smells like warm scrambled eggs and chocolate chip pancakes and little boys soap and clean hair and christmas - yup - smells like straight christmas in here - so, at that exact moment - muah!

the food is swell.

but, then, you let it chill, all bundled up together in a foggy little huddle - forgotten in the kitchen while the real fun explodes on the other side of the wall - boom - boom - boom - big smiles and bigger laughs and the only thing bigger's the hugs, and the food, eggs on bottom in a do not microwave senselessly frilly open dutch oven thingie with the pancakes, chocolate chip on the bottom, thin crispy buttery plain ones stacked on top, on top - in a plate - stacked on top of the dutch oven thingie, kinda like a lid - and, you know ... it makes the bottom of the plate all steamy and foggy and that makes the chocolate oh so allthetimegooey, but the thin crispy plain ones are not touching the chocolate at all, so ...

it's sitting there chillin', the whole time you're chillin'

sittin there lookin like you're enjoying your time, but you’re fightin down bile that's fightin against your fight like a ragin blizzard

that amidoingtherightthingfortheselittleboysoramihopelesslyfuckingthemupgodihopeimnotfuckingthemuptheselittleangelsaretherealestrealmadeupoftherealestshitieverseenandgodpleasedontletmebefuckingthemupletmebelovedsomedaylikeestherandzpleasegodpleasegodpleasegodplease
kinda bile that snakes up a mom's throat about a million or a dozen times a day.

And when the presents are already divided up into the naturally ordered chaotic piles of tighter and tighter swirls of wrapping paper, toy and packaging and making its way in tighter and tighter and lines – routes, if you will, backyard, patio, open gate, dumpster, open gate, in, or – blue room, boys room, toy box, closet, bed, or – like me, to a chair.

boom

Little boom. Not a sonic. boom.

... so, of course, it’s those thin, crispy, oily, salty, buttery plain ones that aren’t touching the chocolate at all that you reach for first.

they chill so well.

roll it up and while your nostrils are telling your mouth you are about to inhale a tongue-full of warm and melty, allthetimegooey chocolate you taste nothing of the sort and it’s

so

damn

good

CraveDread

Where were you the last time you sighed and said, this is heaven...

did you spread and wiggle all of your toes?

did you curve each curve you could find with your spine?

then, I guess your heaven's a little less heavenly than mine...

Flame

The flame does not kill the moth.

Jumping into the flame ...

That kills the moth.

Go to WARD it, not IN to it.

Push.
Pull.
REST

And, now, REST.

And, you know what else I think?

I think that NOW is the only thing that ever is.

I think that NOW has no beginning and no end and I think that I can't comprehend that, but I think that by accepting it and by recognizing it and realizing it that maybe just maybe I'm expressing gratitude and love toward a God who is bigger, better, faster more better than me

and,

after all,

isn't that how I'd want to be loved?

Addiction is Addiction

Only the poison varies.

That's what I wrote in a yellow notebook that I can't find right now.

You know what I think?

I think that to realize NOW is to just slow one's SELF down so that oneself slows down and you begin to see NOW through REAL EYES.

Real eyes realize.

Like a blind man's.

Like a one who's been touched by God.

Train to Albany Girl

I wrote this 08.22.07 (the day before my daughter, Faith, would have turned 9)

***

This is today and today is the very day I found this book.

It was lying face down on my piled-up-with-crap dresser. It looked like one of Benjamin's journals, and I love journals. But, here's what: I never kept one.

So, I find this black notebook today.

It makes me pause. You know pause. Yes?

Pause. Okay. You're sitting on a train trying to imagine the thrill of a few minutes from now when you are barefoot at home posting "spider pig" Amie-sprinkled fun songs on MySpace. You're on this train, and this ain't the South. It's hard to fix a disinterested gaze in mid-air when all the air you see is people-covered. So, you're headed to Albany and there's so much circus and way too many clowns, and then you look up and see this girl.

Pause.

Tu sabe pause? Train to Albany girl. Upside-down black notebook. Same thing - same thing.

Pause.

Pick a color, King James.
Pink.
Pink? Wow. Out of every color, I would not have guessed that.

Just tell me one thing, Boss. Tell me the again the Albany Train Girl story.

Raelynn, I mean, Abby - Jadju's out tonight.

Mama, I probably shouldn't be leaving this message, because by the time you get it and look at the sky, to look at the moon, the circle will be gone.

D? I don't remember playing cards together. Do you? That's a random question. we played something at your uncle's house. Phase 10. With Abby. The 3 of us. I did not know that until today.

It's funny how much of life we forget. Or maybe it's sad.
...But, not for me, because I remember now!

(D shakes his head and looks like he's thinking how-do-I-put-up-with-this-crazy-girl, but all he'll say is, "Goofball!")

Only wisp oils in water vapor magnet purple sky
Bloom afield a murky lot of booming booming sky.

She had on a red top. The best part was her smile because it was so cute, and ... and it was perfect like a little kid's smile.

Plus, she had beautiful lips - they were so full ... and when she smiled?

When she smiled, her eyes lit up.

She was just nice.
... and wasn't intimidating even though she was drop-dead gorgeous.

"That's a random question."

I innocently turn around just when I knew his hate would still be in his glare. I gotta sit real deep in myself at the office these days.

Thirty years. All I can say is I don't know how to stop. Instead, I say Hmph! and I look down my nose & I know that she knows that I've lost. She knows I am naked and thoroughly shamed. I hate her so much cuz she won't look away.

(and then, in green ink at the bottom of the page, I wrote: page 12 of 17 from 2004. maybe I had it write [sic] the first time.)

Yes, you are

she starts with the last page first and, that is for carla jo

s
o
.
.
.

that is one of the reasons this is an insideout



another reason this is an insideout is that 1217Bee named this baby before it was born

another reason this is a swell insideout is that i know you are torn
between
between
between
likepeanutbutterwhitebreadroofofmouthstuckin
betweenbetweenbetween

there’s no way that i can, but i do, and you are, so i know you are


torn


inbetweeninbetweeninbetween

the you you are now’s a you you’ve never been
and you’re torn in two trying to run back and forth
betweenbetweenbetween
between

between the you you are now
and the you you will be
for, just like i’d hoped you’ve continued to read

to read is to learn
what the writer is learning
you read you ‘cuz you’re what i’m writing
i’m saying it
i’m telling you,
but you still don’t know it
there’s no
way
i
can do that, so therefore i’m not
to you,
to you,
to you,
to you

to you, i am not, so ...

to you, i’m not.

Peace Monster

Start off slow
Don’t bite
Don’t chew
Just let it be
&
You
Be
You
Next to it

Don’t try to eat it or it will eat you

Sin, Salt & Me

Happy to bee to bee to bee
Happy to bee a part of this shade
Part of this made in the lemonade day
Happy to bee to be just a bee, to be
the bee part of this lemonade day
this water sprinkler, green grass, shade-dappled, leafy sky, shade
made in the lemonade shade
made in the lemonade shade
shady day
shady day
shady day

like salt,
like salt,
like me
like sin
like salt
like me

who knows what it does or if and when it’ll kill ya
but it keeps catching you and sending you back
to that place where you want just a bit more

so stop there
and let this be the season
the season of me
push,
pull,
rest
then, everything, everything else,
but always back
to the season of me

only we spoil sin by letting it linger
lick it on your way to your best and leave it behind and go be your best and then when it’s time to taste just a taste,
you taste just a taste

don’t go all Winnie-the-pooh with a honey pot on me,
a dab’ll do ya

sin, salt, and me

Two Below

Only we spoil sin
King james said there is pleasure in it
For a season

And

You say
You say
You say
You say

You say
King james
He say
To everything
There is a season

We drove a van to ms morrison’s
And now we go in a borrowed car
Full of tears and full of cheers
And five hearts desperately waiting

Waiting for a taste, for the scent on the wind
Just a hint of honey
To say

To say
To say
To say
To say

Keep going, mama
Keep going, friend

But most days now I don’t know why at all
…’bout anything, much less this

lemon starch and lemonade
plant me a tree,
and I’ll have it made

I’ll have it made in the grassy shade that’s full of green and wet and warm and moist and dark and cool but always green and always live and fat and happy to bee

I don't know what she's talking about, but I love her ...

Watch your children and love them the way you always wished a parent had loved you and be proud of yourself because you're BETTER and because you CAN. You do that every day that you can and the payoff is exactly as good as you can imagine it to be.

Watch your husband and love him the way you always wished a husband had loved you and be proud of yourself because you're BETTER and because you CAN. You do that every day that you can and the payoff is exactly as good as you can imagine it to be.


Watch your self and love her the way you always wished you had loved her and be proud of yourself because you're BETTER and because you CAN. You do that every day that you can and the payoff is exactly as good as you can imagine it to be.

Apple to Apple

O
Yeah! O O
You leave the O O O
at the O O O
top O O O O O
BEE, leave the O, O O O O O
i O O O
t’ O O O O O
s tha O
H O
OOK Oh, leave the O. The O? Do you know why?
?YHW
od uoy wonk
O
eht
O
eht
evael
h,
O
Well, the air is all minty now.
Cuz of you.
Cuz of you saying it was me that reminded you of mint, or actually, you said that mint always made you think of me.
Which it should, but only if you know me and not many do, but you said mint reminded you of me, so I guess between you and me, that makes two.
Two of us knowing I love mint, and right now, at 1123 in red parish, that’s one more than I had in a long, long time.
And it felt like it feels right now.
Like a red sweater blue-eyed hug and I remember lookin’ ‘cross the tiles at who we were lookin’ at while we talked about sex and love and hate and us and fuck it all except the dates.
The dates.
You have to admit the dates are weird.





THE BLUE ROOM, THE BLUE ROOM, THE BLUE ROOM
for me

I
re

quest THE BLUE ROOM
for you and for me

Either Way

I can’t tell if that’s the weather or you,
but either way,
I’m shakin’ now
Either way,
The weather or you.

Is that you out there, Daddy?
Or, is that the wind?
Either way I’m shakin now,
Either way,
Daddy, weather, wind or you.

I’m shakin’ now,
Hold me now,
Keep us right here

I built a fine nest,
We can wrap up and lie here and weather this storm.

I built a fine nest,
Love,
In the top of this tree.

Ain’t no big or small space,
Just space
In between

Either pullin’ or pushin’ us
And sometimes we collide and sometimes we repel and sometimes
Sometimes,
In the deep of this nest in the top of this tree
Sometimes,
We get it right.

Sometimes, love, we sit in the light
In the right
In the best healthy way
We sit in the light
Under umbrella or only at night, the sky is the sky and the sky gives light

We share with the sky and then we are good
We circle around and recycle sky’s Good
We give and we take. Irie cycle. Sky’s good.

As Forecasted

Reine, Reine,
Go Away
Go Away, Go Away
Some other day

Today, this day, right now, right now,
Today, Reine, be here with me
Today, Reine, be here with me
Right now, right now, this day, today,
Today, Reine,Don't go away

Today, Reine,
Please take me away.

Stay here, Reine,
and please me today.

Please stay here
now with me, sweet Reine.

The Apple to The Slog

Says the apple to the slog, "No. I don't know what that is."

Slog hears "No." Slog stops. Slog is simple.

Apple continues, "but, if you show me what it is, I'll show you how to better use it."

Slog hears "No." Slog stops. Slog is simple.

Gracious

if i can't count on you to say what true, who can i count on?
i am thin. who cares. i just am always shocked to see any kind of emotion on your face. it always catches me off guard.
rare thing.
you know what i think?
i think if one was a bee or a bird in a past life that god would surely be gracious to not let that one remember her wings in this one.
you know?
like, maybe i was a nomad or a gypsy in another time and place, but damn. i just wanna stay still now. i really, really do. i just don't know how. i'm always wanting to run.
lol! sorry to let your goofball get so deep. :)
should post this as a blog instead of mail as a letter so as to diffuse its intensity among many instead of bombarding one with its somber weight.
i shall get rid of this immediately and get your goofball back.
p. l. a.

Edited for content

So, I'm making good progress on mi casa and I love it more every day.

I love it more each day when I wake up in it, and I love it more every day when I come home to it - so, that's a good sign. Yes? I take it as such.
People are saying I look well - they're still complaining that I'm too thin, but also saying that I look good since I left him. I don't know about that. I pretty much feel like I must look like a bowl of cold oatmeal since that's kinda what I feel like on the inside, but ... you never know what other people see.
The boys are happy. Very happy, actually.
After all, isn't that what it's all about?
p.l.a.

Domestic

Remember that time,
before we were domesticated,
when we drank out of rivers and streams?

Remember that time,
before we were tamed,
when we bathed in moonbeams and danced in reine?

Remember that time,
before we were this,
when we were free to be and let be?

Remember that time,
before you knew me?

Who were you then?

Do you know?

So, that makes sense

It's been a helluva week.

But now, today, tonight, I'm much more relaxed. Mellow, almost. Not quite, but getting there. Still not sleeping very much, and when I do, I have dreams about weighing myself on a golden scale. It's awful. So stressful. I keep shrinking and shrinking. I think the scale must be wrong, so I do what I always do in dreams - I don't pinch myself. For some reason, I go to a mirror. In real life, if things are surreal and I wonder what's real and what's not - like maybe, I feel like I'm spinfalling in love & since that is foreign to me, I find a mirror. I guess my face is the only one I trust, a therapist might possibly suggest. Maybe she's right. Maybe he is. All I know is what I do and what I do is find a mirror.

So, in my dream, I step off the golden scale and walk to a huge, thick, shiny - super shiny - glossy - mirror. It's so stressful. So traumatic, to me. The more people throw at me, the more I have to juggle and the more I have to juggle, the faster they throw and I am speedrunjumpbouncing to catch up and keep up with them. I'm making my face so still and my breath even, too. Making it look like a breeze.

But, see, here's the thing: it takes so much energy. So, so much energy.

And in front of my eyes, I am shrinking. I go up close to the mirror. This must be a dream. I look like me, but the harder I stare, the more confused I get and I'm shrinking and shrinking and I hate how they stare.

Juggling. Juggling. Tumbletripmoonbouncing for all of my worth.

But, all my reserves are spent.

I'm through-er than through. I'm spent-er than spent.

Of course, it's a dream, so I dream up some badass food, and I'm standing naked in front of the glassy glossy mirror of me and somehow, now, the bathroom is brighter and whiter which makes me uncomfortable and that makes me shrink and that makes me anxious and that makes me shrink

I want to freak out, but I get centered, and since I'm not very centered at all - only trying to be - I run fast for a crutch to chase off my Weak.

I eat this humongous DagwoodJohnsonBoy triple decker sandwich with cartoonish-type colorfully hanging out over the edges meat and lettuce and probably tomatoes – and, since it’s a dream, nothing spills over the edges onto my face or floor or even my hands and the bread is warmly, softly purrfect.

So, I’m eating and eating and I watch myself still tragically shrinking and everything I do has me shrinking some more which leads me to shrinking some more.

And then …

Hmmmmmmmmmm … Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz …

I stop reacting to the mirror and the shrinking and angry stares and hateful glares and I don’t know if they go away or if I do, but I am no longer aware of shrinking or growing or size at all, and pretty soon I forget about being cursed with a body in the first place, and then we shift … and, now … what’s important to me, and to all of the ones who stare, is what we let ourselves be … not what we let ourselves see.

And seeing is still believing, but now we are choosing what we see and we only see such wonderful things and eyes full of wonder find power in beauty and we are blind to everything but. So, stronger and stronger are we and you and I and me and us. More beauty, more power, more Seeing in us, more Being in us.


So, they say we dream stuff like that in little 30 second spurts. (Which makes me wonder if dreams are mindsex – I mean, of course, they are to me; you know this; I say it all the time. But what I mean is: What if it’s like that for real real. Not just in a figurative way in a stupid girl’s head. As if each dream is an orgasm – achieved by either mental masturbation or mental copulation with another coursing, surging soul.)

So, anyway, they say we dream stuff like that in little 30 second spurts, which confuses me to a certain degree until I think about my thoughts on “pre” “diction” and what society means when they say it and what I think it really says about understanding things before you have words to explain how or why you understand it – understanding, before words – PRE. before. DICTION. words.

So, when I dwell on that for a moment.

After I really let that soak into my blood,

I decide it makes perfect sense. Tu sabe?

You know?

We say so much more when we do not have to slow down to make words.

So, that makes sense.

Red Parish Me

Red sweater
Red door
in a box, I found four
red reindeer sweaters when I
let the red door
let the reindeer red sweater red mouth red door
red parish me.

Now.

To myself, I said,
Self?
and
self say,
Hmmmmmmmmmm…

Red sweater (hmmmmmmm...)
Red door (bzz) (hmmmmmmmmm...)
in a box, I found four

Go slow, now, love
Or let me go slow
Just lie back, with me, Love,
And let’s chew up this night.

Just lie down with me, Love,
Let’s make this all right
You know and I know and the world sho do know it
But let’s make it work, daddy,
Let’s make this all right

They just know I’m through with you,
They don’t know what I went through with you
And for you...?
You don’t.
Not yet, daddy.

Not yet.

Go slow, now, love
Or let me go slow
Just lie back, with me, Love,
And let’s chew up this night.

Let’s chew up and spit out
And light up this night.

Thunder and lightning.

Black and white.

Big, dark clouds

and bright, white light.

Uneasy with Ease

Somethin' in 'er eyes tell me she full.

She prowls past my throne and

i smell something in the breeze

that has just left her hair.

The hunter who prepares for her day

by bathing and stretching

in the golden gaze between Earth&Sun

is not preoccupied.

Something

about her

...

satisfaction

shakes up

my

ease.

Clouds Play in Moon's Grave

The sky.
The sky's so high.
So blue and so bright, when
it's not night.

The sky.
The sky.
It is so high.
It's under my feet, and
So am i.

Bookmark 1

Between these two bookmarks, are pieces I unearthed and found still relevant to me today.

Written between 06/19/07 and 06/24/07 - it must have been raining. I think so clearly during rain. Zz ...

Storm 2

It’s just so

big,

and wonderful,

and real.

I know we can’t

be the only

ones

watch

ing.

This show in the sky,

Of you and of me,

This storm

of you

in

side

me.

Storm 1

Thunder

&

lightning.

Black

&

white.

Big, dark clouds

&

bright,

white

light.

Faeries Lull a (Sweet Good) Bye

Your harmony,
I’m peace,
You’re peace.

I’m harmony
You’re peace,
I’m peace.

Trading places, holding hands,
Spinning circles, humming tunes,
Honeychild, honeybee, killer, killer, sweet queen bee.

My fortuneteller rose today,
He say Ami a Jewel.
I say,
You read me right today,
Ami arose a Jewel.

So, I walked around today,
I walked around a jewel.
I walked around. A Jewel today.
I walked around you, Jewel.

Today,
I …

Tiptoed tulips, sang from vines,
I whisper-willowed Father Time,
Dark with wolves and bears and me,
I danced with Father Time.

I walked around you, Jewel, today.

And this is what you said:

Your fortuneteller’s good, Ami
He’s Tejas through and through.
His friend he told, so, Friend, unfold
Yellow brick, Red-carpet Gold.

The road is narrow, paved with thorns,
It’s true – it’s widely told.

But, your fortuneteller’s good, Ami.
He’s Tejas, that’s for sure.
Today, he rose, his friend, he chose.
Ob La Di Bla Da.

He called Ami a Jewel today,
You walked around a Jewel.
Your fortuneteller’s good, Ami,
He’s Tejas through and through.

Now, have ‘im go and tap Ms. Jones,
So she and me, we both can be
As one and all as three,
You and me and Missus Jones, we
Wanna walk with you on a cloudy day,
Fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high,
Won’t you … won’t, oh won’t you…won’t you…
Amie, whatchya wanna do?
I think I could stay with you, for a while,
Maybe longer …
Oh, longer if I do … and I keep ….
Fallin’ in an’ outta love with you,
Amie,
Fallin’ in an’ outta love with you.
Some? Times? Some … times… sometimes I just don’t know what to do,
I’m fallin’ deep, I’m fallin’ deep, but it’s so steep, its very steep, I’m fallin’ fast, I’m fallin’ fast,
Tell me, Amie, what to do,
What are you gonna do,
Amie?
Amie, whatchya wanna do?
I keep fallin’ in an’ outta love with you,
But I was meant for you, and you were meant for me.
Yeah, I was meant for you, but I don’t know what to do.
Ah, come on now, gimme some sugar, gimme some sugar, little honeybee,
Honeybee, honeychild, killer, killer, sweet queen bee,
I was meant for you,
And you?
You were meant for me.
So come on now and gimme some sugar.
Gimme some sugar little honeybee.

I’ve told you now,
But you don’t know it.
I’ve told you now,
But you don’t know it.
Twice you want it,
Once I’ve told it,
One more time,
Plus that is twice.
Twice you want it,
Once I’ve told it.
One more time,
Plus that is twice.
I’ve told you now,
But you don’t know,
I’ll tell it now
Again
Another way, but still the same,
The story twice is telling.


Your lullabies are not a dream,
Your lulled goodbyes are not a dream,
They’ve been sung,
Oh,
They’ve been sung.
They live.
They’re not your dream.

Young girls under tree leaves
Brown, and gold, and yellow green,
And sunny-speckled, fairly freckled, cheeks of red and pink,
Oh, yes, my Jewel
Your lulls, your byes, your lullabies,
Your Faeries sing them far and wide.

Your deeds are stacked, Jewel,
Ten miles high,
Your Karma’s still not budging.
Bullfrogs croak, crickets chirp, your judges all are judging.
Your deeds are stacked, Jewel,
Ten miles high,
Your Karma’s still not budging.

Your Karma’s not budging.
Your judges are judging
The wrong stack of glittery deeds,
So tell your judges, Jewel,
Tell ‘em go home,
Go find someone worth all their judging.

For I’m going, I’m going, I’m going back home
Back home where I once belonged
Back on the good ship lollipop
It’s a sweet trip to the candy shop
Where bon bons play
On the sunny beach of peppermint bay
Back on the good ship lollipop
Back home where I once belonged
For I’m going, I’m going, I’m going back home,
Back to the top, the tippity top, of the big, big rock
That big rock candy mountain
Where marshmallow skies tell strawberry lies
And the blues are sweet marmalade fields.
Abbey Road is forever and
Lennon Imagines his pie
In the sky on the wings of a pig.
The marshmallow skies tell strawberry lies
And we lap it up like water
Ree, watery, watery, wet,
As wet as you get, as wet as you get,
It’s never as wet as it was,
So, you’re goin’ back,
You’re going back home,
To find out how you belonged
Innocent, sweet, but deeper than deep
In something so beautifully dark
As wet as you get, as wet as you get,
It’s never as wet as it was,
So you’re going back, going back, going back
Home,
To find out how you once belonged.

You get to go back, we get to go back,
If only we tell what we know.
You know it, I know it.
You show it, you sing it.
I’ll write it, you read it.
Your riches, my riches.
We’ll both share the wealth.

Those little ones dream such big dreams.

You watch it, you learn it.
You burn it, I’ll smoke it.
Freeing sweet honey-soaked lies
Of bumblebees, dragonflies, and killer sweet
Beautiful killer queen bees
Goddess of lilies, goddess of rain, goddess of daffodils, daisies, and thyme,
Ivies and Ivories, Ashers and Bens,
Of Benjamin, Been Jammin, Benji and Boo,
Big Dee? Cricket? That Asher, … he knew
Which one he called … or tickled, or tortured, or hugged, or harassed, Crickey? Big Dee?
Thing One or Thing Two?
That Asher, … he knew.

C’mon, big brother.
C’mon brothers two. Follow me, Asher, and Big Brother Boo.
Follow me, Asher, and Benjamin, too.

Wendy’s a-nest atop of Pan’s tree,
She’ll spin us all the most colorful tales.
You’ll listen and love her for loving you first.

Benji is jammin’ with Beatle-long hair.
Mommy’s got Magic alone in her lair.
Asher’s Ben-busy, but makin’ some time
To play with you, brothers, to make your world mine.

Atop of Pan’s tree,
We’ll crow and we’ll fly.
I’m busy sweet brothers, but I’m makin’ some time.
You make me yours and I’ll make you mine.
We’ll crow and we’ll fly and we’ll dance and we’ll sing
Up there with Wendy
Atop of Pan’s tree

She plays the flute, she plays with Pan’s harp,
Chimes and drums and birds that sing.
Limes and plums and church bells ring
‘round the rosies, down the hall, pluck a daisy, bounce a ball,
Good is better,
Better best,
Best is better than the rest.
Lennon and Dylan and Harper and Raitt
Are bobbin’ with Marley, Tedeschi and K.

K, oh he’s jammin’
And Benjamin too,
Your Mommy’s our Wendy
And Peter Pan, too.
She Tom and she’s Huck,
He’s Sawyer and Finn.

Brother one, brother two, to each of you, twin,
Asher says, brother, so listen to him.

Not everyone lives like this,
Brothers, see?

Not everyone lives at the top of a tree.
With bumblebees doing their deedlebug dance,
With dragonflies casting their blueberry trance.
With lemonade sipping through clear plastic straws,
Now dash away, dash away, Asher, and all.

Your Love and your Faith are buried dark deep
With dirt and with sod. With roots and with worms.
Share a tea with what’s hers and what’s yours.
Your Love and your Faith are buried dark deep.
Tell the story that she already knows,
She’s buried dark deep with roots and with worms and grows through our skin like a glow
She’s a flame of Mom’s Wendy alive in us all.

She brings Daddy peaches,
She brings Daddy plums,
She rinses and pats them and cuts them in squares
With bells on her toes and curls in her hair.

Not everyone’s Mommy is crazy like ours.
Not everyone’s Mommy is so unrefined:
Ours whistles and curses when she forgets that we’re here,
She sings and she dances while she pours Daddy’s beer,
She says “Mommy’s sorry,” when she makes a mistake,
She hates a frog, but she loves the snake.
Mosquitoes are demons – worse than wet floors,
Mommy’s the richest – she’s never been poor.
Our Mommy is goofy, and silly, and sly,
And cocky, conceited, she’ll laugh ‘til we’re high
With happy and golden and blue-purple sky,
Our Mommy obsesses with sharing her sky.
Our Mommy is goofy, and silly, and sly,
Mommy’s “We’ll see,” it only means “Maybe.”

Daddy is jammin’
Benji is too.
Your Mommy’s our Wendy,
And Peter Pan too.
She’s Tom and she’s Huck,
He’s Sawyer and Finn,
No one else lives like this,
Brothers, you see,

This is our Nest.
This is our Tree.

Dad’s playin’ drums,
Dad’s plantin’ flowers,
Mom’s borrowed Wendy’s
Pen for four hours.

She planted her love. She planted her faith.
A river you are, you are, and am I.
Eden needs four – let’s see what we got.
You and you and him and me.
Brother, Brother, Benji, Me.
Brothers, Rivers, Four are We.

So, c’mon, Ivory, let go of Big Dee,
Lennon and Dylan and Harper and Raitt
Are bobbin’ with Marley, Tedeschi, and K.

Mama’s in the kitchen.
Daddy’s at the grill.

Hubbard’s at the Snake Farm,
Petty’s at the Zoo.

Mama’s on the sofa.
Daddy’s in the chair.

Daddy’s feet are on the floor.
Mama’s in the air.

She is sugar, she is sweet.
She is mean, she can’t be beat.
She has tippy-toes for feet,
She hops, she dances in the street.
She is regal, she is wise.
She is coarse and unrefined.
She’s the free in Skynard’s bird.
She’s the wild in every prairie
Flowers, fires, smoke and faeries.
She fears fire, but loves the smoke.

Mama’s in the kitchen.
Daddy’s at the grill.

The clouds are heavy, dark and wet,
Mama’s in the kitchen,
Daddy’s at the grill.

The sky is growling, deep and low,
Mama’s in the kitchen,
Daddy’s at the grill.
The sky will open.
We’ll all be wet.

Welcome Home

Your life, you knew, would breathe my breathing.
You knew, at first you knew.
You saw, at first you saw.
What all your life you knew.

It takes not one,
It takes not one,
It takes not one,
But two.

One and one is two,
Two and two is four.
Four and twenty make a day;
A day makes twenty-four.
Son, Twenty three is not a day;
A day makes twenty four.
Sun Twenty-three is not a day;
A day needs one sun more.
A day needs one sun more.
Give Daddy two sons more. I want it, Mama. I want more.
Twenty-three is not a day,
A day needs one sun more.
And a week makes seven more…
And a month makes thirty more…
Twelve a year, a year for you,
You’re king, my son, your king and then you blink, you’re in war.
And a war made seventy-four.
Son, you hear? I said a war. A war made seventy-four.

Add five for seventy nine.

I was born while you were bearing.
I cut teeth while you were tearing.
I first walked while you were running.
I was round while you were lost.
In Big and Bright and Loud.
You were lost until you found
That you were you and me.
Crash … into me … into the space between.
Between some space between the big and sad and dark and lost was you.
You were lost,
And I was found until I lost that center of my world for you.
I gave me up. I found you filling. My … self … more than … I …
I paused and melted …found …for lost.
I melted found for lost. For you. For you,
I lost my found… and you lost your lost –with my lost found, you filled your self to filling
With my spilling spilling found to trade your lost until you started winning.
I’d ride your winning higher than mine could spin, spin, spinning on my own was lost for you.
You chewed me up and spit you out.

And I feel so good in it.
In that thing you made when you made us,
Or let me make it,
Whichever we decided it was.

You chewed me up and spit you out.

I gave you two and two.

Two years spent, now
Two sons bent
Across your arms this morning,
Laughing, hugging, kissing, laughing,
Two sons called you Daddy.
Two and two for you.
I was one, I added you.
We grew two by two.

One and one is two,
Two and two is four.
Four and twenty make a day;
A day makes twenty-four.
Twenty three is not a day.
A day makes twenty four.


In seven days, God made the earth.
He sent his son, they say
On Christmas cards and Christmas songs you hear while buying Christmas.
Well, one week later, we start our year and you come into being.
You met my sons the day after Christmas.
You played their games they gave you a crown.
Benjamin snapped into loving.
You met my mom.
We moved you in.
One week after Christmas.
On New Year’s Day I heard you say it,
Mama, can Daddy come home?

In seven days, God made the Earth,
Seven days was your rebirth.

You’ve been here before.
Where have you been?
You’re mine; now let me come home.
I’ve missed you all this time.
You’re mine; Mama, let me come home.
You’re hear at last, I’m waiting so long
To watch your mouth
say it
say it
say it
say it.

Daddy come home.

“It’s cold outside, Mama. Can your Daddy come home?”

And it was cold, our Eden. Softly, breathing, softly sleeping.
A coincidence.
A spider bite.
An uncannily hot Christmas week, but
What can you say ‘bout crazy Texas heat.
The ice the heat the ice the heat the ice the heat the ice …
Switching places Texas-fast, crazy Texas Christmas heat.
The spider bit me,
I was dizzy,
Much too much to walk,
But I drove to the doctor with the last of my holiday high, bright sunny sun in the sky, black boots up to my thigh, with the fading fumes of my cranberry Christmas high, I drove my little red Jeep to the doctor,
The bright was so bright,
And the sun was so sunny,
My eyes were red and dusty and blurry, and worst of all
I was dizzy, so dizzy, so dizzy, so dizzy,
I waited and waited,
But nobody saw me, and I remembered the sexiest man, the blackest, the brightest, the dirtiest beautiful sight, the lonely, the sad, the crazy, the sexy, the old, young, dirty old man, the craziest, sexiest,
Lost,
I thought of him that spider-bite-day while the sun burned unseasonably sunny,
And he lived in some crack house a couple of blocks away, so I went an’ got ‘im.

Sherry Lynn? Yes. Hi. Yes. Bye.
Black and Unc. Yes. Thump. Slap. Thump. Slap. Bye.
White and polished in a den of thieves and den of thieves and lions and lies
A knife and some guns and some thugs and some drugs and some crazy ol’, crazy ol’ lies, like:
This is the life.
Air thick with lies, like: It’s mine, and I’m livin’ my life.
Rescue me. I’m who you know I am. I’m bare-boned and crazy for you.
You belong among the wildflowers and I wanna be the motherfucker that brings ‘em to you.

Daddy, I loved you,
From the second I saw you.
So strong and so weak so crowded, so lonely, so lonely with waiting and waiting for me.
If my arms were the sky I would have scooped you up and breathed in you til you lived
Your lost, lost eyes,
They made me cry when you were gone.
I cried with the lusty lost of the loved,
I cried for you when you left.
If I had been sky if I could be light, I’d have breathed in you til you could breathe.
I cried, Daddy, I hurt like I loved you before.

I hurt like I’d loved you all of my life.

I did, Daddy. You know that I did. I’ve proven I did.

Where have you been?
You said to me you looked through - you knew that you knew that I knew
Smoke was smoking, grills were grilling, fans were fanning sweat, and naps were mapping dreams on starry nights.
Summertime, and the livin’s easy, fish are jumpin’ and the cotton’s high
in twenty-six years to the very exact day before I ran into you.
I breathed. At last. You breathed your breath right through me.
Your light was there, my light was here, but you stopped yours … once you saw
Your tunnel ending,
Light was calling,
You came crawling,
Home.
Too,
Me.
And it’s just for your sake that you be mine, girl,
I’m crawling too
Any time life beats me
Light is calling
We come crawling
Scratching, clawing,
Straight to heaven through hell.

Mama, can your Daddy come home?
There’s fried chicken on the stove, football’s on and the beer is cold,
Much colder than the water in that aluminum horse trough, stock tank, pool the kids are in,
And leaves are falling, but the sunny is sunny until it gets cold, and right now
It’s cold outside.
Can your Daddy come home?

You one tough bitch.
You one mean bitch.
You one tough, mean, sweet bitch,

And don’t make me breathe without breathing your air.
I don’t know how I’ll do it…but I have no choice.

I’m not living if not with you.

I don’t know how I’ll do it, but
I’m beatin’ me… ‘til I stop beatin’… me.

You sweet motherfucker.
You know that?
You a sweet … motherfucker.

And I ain’t gonna cry,
Cause I said that I wouldn’t.

You tough enough to beat my ass,
You tough enough to beat my ass, girl.
You sweet honeychild.

Goddamn, it girl, you kicked my ass…

For me.

Ain’t nobody … ever beat me …into loving me.
Ain’t nobody …said… I’mma make you …hate it …as much as me.
Ain’t nobody …beat me …till …I …beat me.
Ain’t NO.body…piss me off … more …than… you.

You one bad bitch.
You one tough bitch.
You sweet motherfucker.

I’m coming home, Mama.
I’m saying, I’m tired of this cold, Man.

You open them arms, Mama,
Daddy’s home.

I ain’t never goin’ nowhere. Ain’t never. Never going nowhere.
I’m home, goddamn it, I’m home.

It’s taken better men than me,
Now how can that be?

Put my beer in the freezer and some salt on my glass.
You do what you do girl, you do what you do,
You just open them arms and open them legs and do what you do to keep Daddy in the light
I’m home and I’m stayin’
You open them legs
I’m not waiting away anymore light.
I reached the end. The Secret is mine. Knew the day afer juneteenth.

I danced and I sang. I danced and I sang.
I fried pork that only men eat.
I danced and I sang the song that is mine.
I shook you hard with the glory of knowing.
I reached the end. The end of the lying. The end of the waiting. The end of the dying.
I’m here with you now.
We’re living past living.
We found it. It’s paradise lost.
Maybe once, but now it is found.
I was blind, but now I see.

You’re a sweet motherfucker,
You open them arms.

You hear me girl?
Ain’t nobody loved me for me.

You hear me girl,
You getcho ass over here,

I’m ready. You …made …me …ready… to love …me.

It’s cold outside,
Can your Daddy come home?

I’m askin’, I’m beggin’, I’m tired of losing this game.
I’m askin’, I’m crawlin’, I’m tired of lying,

You win,
Can your Daddy come home?

I get it,
Can your Daddy come home?

I’m me, Mama.
Daddy is home.

Hey Daddy?
Dot
Dot
Dot
Daddy, Wel…come home.

Think, Sex, Feel, Love

T. S. F. Amore,

I always feared the light at the end of the tunnel,
So, upon finding myself here, I’ve decided to enjoy the tunnel for the tunnel’s sake.

Surely, she knows the light better than any
I’ll cleave to her and me she’ll teach until the light finds me.

Who were the Mayans and why do I need to find out?
What is this paradise lost and found?
Who is this god beneath my goddess?

I saw paradise once
I felt her breath
I smelled her think and drank her move
Her back was to me, but her shield shone true the reflection of wild abandon of youthful wonderlust
Of pale yellow sunlight and thick, ripe air sweet with smells too primal to name
The smell of the promise that burns through your skin the smell of wet summer the hot winter snow

I fear fire, but love watching beautiful smoke
Curl and curl and
Dance and dance and curl and twist and climb.
It’s the wildest thing I think I’ve seen,
A sexual invitation from the ashes of destruction.
Isn’t that a lot of life?
Sexuality creates, so
Destruction creates,
As long as the sex is sexed.
“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end,”
They sang it in “Closing Time.”

It’s a circle if you want it to be
It’s a circle if you don’t
It’s a circle if you don’t know what is a circle
It’s a circle if you want it to be
It’s a circle if you don’t

…but, here’s the secret
A circle can be whatever you want
If you want, it will be your throne
Here is mine
This is my world,
My world is thine.
And thy and thee and you.
We are circled in its circles and we hang from twining vines
Because I want it so I have it
I am yours and you are mine
I am the queen the king is mine

Re. Thinking

Re …

Related
Ideas
People
To each on her or his level

Related
Relatives
Relative
Relation
Relationships

Regard
Regarding
Regards

Rebirth
Replant
Reinvent
Rejuvinte
Rebirth
Reincarnate

Television as a way to pass the time
Books as a way to pass the time
Differences
My past versus my present
What I am doing to bridge the gap between my earliest pastimes and my present pastimes
Relating to different people at different stages of my work/day cycle
Synchronizing myself with those who inspire me
Saught inspiration through words that created pictures in my mind when I was young
Television was introduced late in my life and my interest was already held by something else
However, my earliest tv memories are by far my fondest
(recall some old movies/sitcoms)
Inspiration lulled again
Television went away and then came back and is now semipresent but fading
Books came and went and are now semipresent but becoming more and more prominent
My inspiration has waxed and waned and now I feel is only budding
My life until today only a dress rehearsal, a warm-up I was bored with but still had to participate in until it was my turn to take the stage
And now it is time and my new skin feels so right
Each new day feels so bright
I am well and I am right

Bee Taboo

My think tank is a lot like Johnny’s soul shake down.

All of us just wide gold eyes and bobbing mouth and oh-ing lips and face
But minds we are. so all are we. in this tank to think.

Thomas Alva, Mr. E, then there’s Albert, Mr. E, who was Amelia’s Mr. E?

All of us a glowing orb marred by murky depths
Of purple oozing bloody snot and muddy murky glurp.

We’d rather slurp and feed on filth than drink the light’s first light.

We’d rather gorge and purge on slop than lie in white silk sheets.

With Ivies growing vines on walls and golden sunlight down the halls
Tomatoes bowling on the pot Bob Marley sunlight down the halls
Ben Harper has Be’n-jam’in’ in the nursery down the hall with Asher,
Ivory and Big Dee bobbing Afros waving arms
Me and Daddy swing on vines and eat wild fruit and paint wild lies
Blowing bubbles all are we. we dance we laugh on tidal waves.

All of us just wide gold eyes and bobbing mouth and oh-ing lips and face
But minds we are. so all are we. in this tank to think.

Shh ... Cicadas

I am the mighty rooster with a purple peacock mane.

I am the mighty cock with a flowing lion’s tail.

I am the king of the jungle, although you think me queen.

I laid an egg, so, it is said, that I am she.

She is lovely,
She is wise,
She is loved,
She is despised.

She is black with skin of white; she is pure of sin’s delight.

Her empty fullness makes her puke.

Her spinning goldness makes you full you are so full you wanna puke in her so she can be like me
But me is he I am not she who makes you overflow I am she am full of he who makes me me

She’ll cast her spell
You sing so well.
She’ll make you sing and sing.
You think you seek, but you are found.
Were blind, but now you see.

I am the story, not the teller. I am the breezes, not the sea.
I am the smell, I’m not the flower. I am the minute, not the hour.
I am the truth that will be told. My story, me, and you the mind
That makes the universe unwind into the vapor of breath from God’s own nostril into mine

I am the music not the mouth
I am the pound I’m not the ounce
I am the feather not the weight
I am the gold I’m not the gate
I am the spell I’m not the sprite
I am filth I’m not refined


I am the story not the teller I am the breezes not the sea
I am the smell I’m not the flower I am the minute not the hour
I am the truth that will be told. My story, me, and you the mind
That makes the universe unwind into the vapor of breath from God’s own nostril into mine

She’ll cast her spell
You sing so well.
She’ll make you sing and sing.
You think you seek, but you are found.
Were blind, but now you see.

Her spinning goldness makes you bust.
You are so full you wanna puke
In her, so she can be…like me.
But me is he.
I am not she
who makes you overflow.
I am she,
am full of he
who makes me me.

Her empty fullness makes her puke.

She is black with skin of white; she is pure of sin’s delight.

She is lovely,
She is wise,
She is loved,
She is despised.

I laid an egg, so, it is said, that I am she.

I am the king of the jungle, although you think me queen.

I am the mighty cock with a flowing lion’s tail.

I am the mighty rooster with a purple peacock mane.

I am the king of the jungle, although you think me queen.

I am the king.
I make you sing and sing.

Amazing Stillness

I am always naked.

I do not read one book at a time.

I do not write one book at a time.

I cannot fit all I want to do into one life. I live them all at once. I am mocked for admitting I want it all. I am scorned for saying I will have it. I am feared for going out and getting it.

I want it all.

I see it all.

I have it all. Everything I’ve ever wanted. I do not have everything you have ever wanted, but you see my coy contentment and you think I must. I just have everything I desire. Me. I. Not them. Not you. None of what I have is stolen. Just accepted. I was last in the party dress queue so they had run out of beautiful party dresses by the time they got to me and I got a crumpled brown paper bag instead of a dress, but since I arrived in a party dress mood, I wear the crumpled brown paper bag as my consolation prize, but you see I’m completely naked. You don’t see my paper bag at all, and no one sees the party dress you ambitiously brazen. I am as naked as I’ve ever been underneath this bag and you can see it in my eyes. I would have worn a barrel with suspenders as long as it made my point glaringly obvious that I am not a product of someone else’s product. I am me.

I do not write one book at a time.

I do not read one book at a time.

I am always naked.

My thoughts, my actions, my visions, my life is lived on many dimensions and I do not think it is required of me to choose one dimension to override the others. Mother does not cool the lover. Beauty does not tame the beast. Clean does not whiten dirty. Famine never lessens feast.

Your life is the one that comforts you, and I would love to hear your story. I have many things to learn and would love to start with learning you. Please get past my rapacious appetite for life and show me who you are. Please acquaint yourself with the beat of my drum so it no longer frightens you. I am only a mirror. You should not be afraid of things inside yourself you do not understand.

I watched my 19-month-old twin boys tonight. I mean, really watched. They wear a constant smile and seem always searching and always finding and I love the energy their father and I transferred to them. I sat in their bedroom floor with a video camera plugged in the wall beside their dresser. I couldn’t move much, but I sat down on the floor as close to their level as the wire would permit. And I watched. I made an effort not to interfere. Not to instruct or discipline or guide.

It is amazing what I learn when I’m still.