Dead Dad Double Helix

I'm finding I'm seeing you

still hating you, loving you

and years have gone by

since you died

they say grief is a tide

like ebbing and flowing

a process

a path of continual growing

well, it's fucked me up more 

than I've ever been fucked

I thought when you died

I'd be free

but...that's just not gonna be

I'm seeing myself in you

and hating me for it

thrashing against tides

and fighting off love

alone in a world full of people

on these days

darkness is my

only fantasy left

depression rolls in

a thick gray miasma

a funk that aint funky

blue....but not like the sky

you were my age

slumped on the kitchen floor

I feel your pain now

but I didn't before

( and I'm sorry)

so, how do we get through this?

you had your religion

your shot gun of words

a tongue that was barbed

and a pot that you stirred

I have my stars 

and a heart with some hope

an armor of stones

but it's like living on a fucking tightrope

I'm learning it wasn't just

your death that brought me here

but the one thing we share

that's the same

......dna

UNTITLED - 2006

I thought it was the earth

but lo

it was my heart quaking

words race past my tongue

like a wind whipped leaf

am I embracing 

or forsaking

only time

time 

time

will tell

if this little dirt perch will hold true

like a bluebird's song

carried through time

I want only to hold onto you

I hear the whispers 

that seep into my thoughts

I know the tune

I sing is by you

I feel you bend

the air to my ear

I've seen glimpses of what is true

you speak to me of camphor bells and neon sea shells

laced by the ribs of unseen truth

swayed arcs lit by candle's glow

and "amber waves of grain"

yours is the voice

that feels no pain

steered through the tarred night

in your low slung cocktail dress

sifting through my brains

shoveling out the mess

rapid pens

they pour the truth

of cancer in thine heart

of stained and maimed and

battered souls

which have been ripped apart

I AM WINGED CREATURE

soft to the touch of your hand

your are but a gentle thought

in the depths of this cankered land

an ashen stare can pierce a glare

with candied ginger root

with honied clams

and boiled yams

and braids of twisted jute

flutter by

ye lofty stars

shine upon thy simple mast

sailing on through foretold storms

already in the past

sanity and vanity

twin pebbles on a shore

by moon again

consumed by tear

once more an open sore

cannot light a path unseen

without the fat of whale

STAR SHAPED SOUL

a buttered roll

heart sent through the mail

a HOST of thoughts

like balloon animals bending

changes of the heart

are never ending

seeded by rough patches of Columbine

twisted and choked 

by the glory 

of mourning

walking in a waking dream.....I HAVE RIPPED THE SEAM

reality banks on 

sightless men

to wander 

in a blind-fold dream

of sugar snacks and

popcorn love

one eye out for the peaceful dove

TRAMPLING GREEN MOTHER

UNDER FOOT

PAINTING EYES WITH BLACKENED SOOT

close them....shut them.....tight...tight....tight

YOU PULL ME DOWN WITH ALL YOUR MIGHT

I'M RISING FLAME

LIKE PHEONIX SUN

glinting

flinting

swirling SPARKS

I'VE ONLY JUST BEGUN

To the Unnurtured/Ode to Macbeth

come to our collective Women's breast

and receive our milk

but not for gall

for we are not Murdering Ministers

they will be leaving soon

let our nature be so full of the milk of

human kindness

that we might 

cradle the 

Unnurtured

and begin again

Born of this

I was born of the freezing cold
brought forth in darkness
and white packed snow
the farthest North you can go in this country
land of rainbow lights and pipelines
home to grizzlies and moose

I am from a blend
a different mother than my siblings
not a part of the "club"
-the youngest
-the baby
-"spoiled"
a different nose and mouth

I am from a long line of many, many women
of  "so many girls are born, not boys"
from grandmothers I remember named Mary, Lucille and Dixie Faye

I am from a square-ish state formed in 1859
that pushes up against the Pacific
that is sandwiched between evergreens and golden beaches
with starry-eyed people

I am from valleys flanked by deliciously scented old growth
of flying puffs of Cottonwood in Spring
of marvelous shady Maples and buzzing mosquitos and bees
and of two....maybe three months of heat

I am from touchy hands
too many hands groping
under beds and in trailers in driveways...on couches...in diapers
of not knowing how to ask for help
of becoming who I am
because of it

I am from a last name that is too hard to pronounce
from a Bohemian place with Moroccan ties that I'm unable to solve
of silly nicknames and annoying rhymes
of always being last in line

I am from cabins at the beach or on a lake....on the weekends
of old, musty furniture and plaid wool blankets
of trying to have fun
of uncomfortable arguments and shitty food
of tables being flipped and obscenities flung

I am from lakes and rivers and too much drifting in boats
of putting worms on lines
"no...not like that, like this..."
of needing to go to the bathroom so bad
(of thinking how handy a penis might be)
and of the smells of tackle box and engine fumes
of the fog frizzing my hair
of nails being picked with pocket knives

I am from winning

art and writing contests

of always trying my best

of overachieving (sometimes) 

of feeling alive when creating and learning

of wanting to make people proud

of trying hard in school but giving up later

I am from dogs in the house

and in my bed and under my sheets

as best friends

of crying myself to sleep in their hair

and letting them take food from my mouth

I am from a mouth full of metal

and being lucky to have it
from a pimpled face
from shaped too square and bad hair
from awkward and overlooked
until later

I am from silence
from expressing myself with a brush or a pen
because it can hurt too much to speak
or to not be heard at all

I am from not really being sure what a woman is supposed to "be"
from trying to feel pretty but not sure why
from feeling strong and pissed
when they said that I shouldn't
I am of cussing out assholes
and sometimes being one too

I am from getting stoned
but not liking acid or shrooms
of practicing Earth magic since childhood and playing telepathy games
of shuffling tarot decks and making my own Ouija boards
of riding my bike to church camp because I didn't have a choice
of constant, obsessive compulsive conversation with my inner voice

I am from humid, forested parks
golden wheat fields, dirty rivers and dusty trails
of "becoming a woman" under shimmering stars and quivering trees
next to gravestones and old sheds filled with rusty garden tools

I am born and raised from mental illness
of learning not to be seen or heard to stay safe
of unlearning that too
of fighting demons
of growing angry and afraid
and struggling to stay on a path with some light

I am from LOVE
of searching for love 
and learning how to give it 
I am from finding it

I am from Motherhood too
from abundance
of feeling worried and proud  
of giving freely without expectation
of not shrinking ( finally) 
but growing

I am from trying to learn something new everyday
of looking at things from more angles
of listening to voices that aren't mine
but not losing track of my own

I am from wanting to own who I am

and maybe love who I am 

someday

I am from a place that is dark and light
good and bad
not black or white

…but gray

a lot like
the skies
where I am from

surrender

have you ever looked

closely at the start of a sunflower

before a nubbin of flower 

even starts to appear

ten inches from the dirt and proud

leaves like arms or wings 

open and outstretched in surrender

all green and arced

bending up and out

toward light

with complete trust 

( I want to be more like you)

but I keep walking

in a deciduous sea of trees and green

a Juniper's bark

the color of rust and red clay 

gifts its primordial perfume

smoke - salt - umami earth

a fragrance like nothing else

I know of

dusty coins of eucalyptus

anxiously flutter on the wind

they beg me closer

to share some gossip

about the nosy roses 

next door

and I keep walking

oops

a slug crosses my path

and I do a little jig

to avoid a squish

thank you for starting my day

with dance, little friend

the morning air is haunted by smells

strange scents that go unnamed 

bypassing my thoughts

speaking directly to my soul

a concrete edge of sidewalk

is the closest thing to a pew

I do not kneel but 

carry on 

under the Sun that is beginning to rise

while everyone else

is still sleeping

my beautiful hairy dog friend

glistens in the day's first light

yanking on my limbs

calling on her ancient

dog ability to tear up and down hills

pulling me through woods 

making me partner of her hunt 

every walk

a tiny revelation

a lesson never learned

behind doors

everything and nothing

we are folds of time
bent like wire

knees up
feet in stirrups

heaving forth the heavens
thrusting out tomorrows

vessels of LOVE
carrying life from past
to present
to future

we are the cuts
the wounds
and the sutures

held together by bone and MOONLIGHT
....by love and
by sinew

............................................

we are not just these bodies
but ALL of this light
creating the space for
soul to take flight

awake

without will

i am changing

------------

can you hear the

tick tick tick

of our bodies

.....they are time bombs

threatening to end it all

no....not a threat

but a promise

--------------

i want it all
or more
or something i can sink my teeth into
something so real and thick
that i forget about death
for just a moment

but i cannot choose

between the life

i've made

and the life i dream of

a declaration that makes me feel:

•sad
•ungrateful
•privileged....to confess

and i am frozen

and i blame my old self

for making choices for the person i am today

for the person who no longer needs what she has

or wants what's in front of her

and as i type this

i feel my heart Chakra swell and ache

it hurts to grow

but i don't want to be small