I’m afraid… Can I say this now? Don’t tell me to shut up Because what if I don’t? Let me say it! Let me say what I feel And let me roll around… More
Thoughts
What do you love?
Let me tell you what I love….

I love the sound of certain voices
Like medicine
Like salve on a wound

I love it when I laugh
I love the rain and the smell of rain
I love meadows
And the woods
And sand stretching as far as I can see

I love stones and gems and crystals
I love fire and smoke
And walking in the dark with a good friend
Shall I tell you more?

I love good conversation
About people and their hearts
About places I’ve never been
About what lives inside of us

I love painting, and making things that move people
that move Me
I love magical spaces
And believing in fate and kismet and
long life journeys

I love beds by windows
Scents and oils and candles
I love tasting
I love listening

I love The Great Mystery
Spirit
One who lives in my heart
and guides me…
I can go on…
I am a bird
What I I mean is
I have been asking them to fly
with me

to be under a bird in flight
to see a bird fly
feel the air
inside you
watch the undulating flap
taste the wind

I enjoy the underside of them
the belly of a bird
as I look up
their movement
the forward stroke
effortless ease

I am dreaming
I am dreaming
am I dreaming?
this kind of normalcy
for winged ones
is
just
flying
If I gaze long enough
I am flying too
Two Dimensional
I’m kind of flat now
I am pressed
I noticed it in the mirror the other day
Like a paper doll
sort of flimsy or just
just flat

The juniper oil in the air here
It’s like a light
It is a light
my papery dust wings
searching for it

I remember things
No one knows
So those memories
are my own nothing
Silk
Swan
Howl
I suppose those are good

Occasionally the leaves let it be so
The pine needles
stick to my skin…
My kid ate one

I want to be three dimensional
I like the idea of things poking out of me
And into me
I like the jutting out
The obvious curve

When I feel flat
I wait.
I slumber
I remember
any hand that touched
this sculpture
and made it sing

I sometimes make soup
or puddings….
or crawl straight into the lions
roar
Prophecy
once, when i was a bird
a made a line across the sky

winding through the clouds
i punctured silences of things long buried
and so the rain came and wash-ed over me

the water came
the rain
looking like the tears of a bird
dripping off my tongue
and down my throat

it soothed my flight
quenched the long standing unspoken
i had held to my breast
opened the river in my heart
set loose the smoke
of a woman’s long
inherent song

the ancient strength
borned Goddess right
all came pouring in
and pouring down
as I stepped off the edge
and into the sky
gifting my foretelling or prediction
of what is to come
The Death
Once
I heard a sound
from you
it sounded like a hurt dove
I felt ugly
And so I turned
and I welcomed the death
and the crying bed
and all of the
things I thought I could fix
I listened to the little heartbeat
the pulse
of my child’s finger
I whispered things
I don’t remember now
I captured the beaten, pulpy, disregard of it all
in a clean cloth
and then set it free
I remember that day
and to the wind
and to the mosaic tile
I tried to create
It went unnoticed
It got swept away
by things I can’t put names to
torture tools of
the unbeknownst
be present
I still cringe
and I still wonder…
I had to scratch it out,
black it out
and then write it all down again.
Eclipse
caress the smokey path
the tilled journey of blackness
the lilt of shadows

let the flute and the coyotes
sing you
to the gate

as the red lights flash
the weird little red lights of warning
flash
don’t hesitate to climb onto the big rocks
climb them to the precipice
and then jump
even if your bones break and
people ponder
the fall

Leave the mess
Leave the torn and attempted bandages

take your wrist and turn it downward
let your hand dangle
notice how it hangs in the silence
this is a type of language
the language of a hand held
against its wish
all the moths dropping
from its fingers
in the dark
What is Happening to Me?
Do you know?
I was screeching this.
I was unwinding my insides.

I feel like a wild animal.
Scratching and marking and hunting.
If you ask me to behave,
I most likely will not.

I’m not afraid to lay open.
I’m unafraid to bleed out.
If you are afraid of my smooth skin
and my loud voice
then go away.

When I became this way
was when the grass in the meadow spoke
When it told me
I was home
That’s when I became earth
and started to smell of it

Your touch sets me on fire
In all the bad ways

I’m my ghost
I’m my sacred, wet, woman self
I’m making all the music

When I say, I’m dying
When I died
When I say I’m dying
every day
after almost everything I feel
and hear
and say
That’s when I realize
I’m alive.

And I want to lick it
I want to lick it
And wear it
And smell it
I wanna go in broken
And feel it
I won’t stop easy.
horoscope
so I read “you are at the end of your rope”
and “fear looks; faith jumps”
it threw me into a dither

the drum and rattle
the monsters on the mantel
the good kind house on the land
I am dying

I love only rain today
The word Vanish is my friend
Vanish
Vanish
I am only going to write what I want

I envision black strips of fabric used as binding
Loosely wound mummy style
Woven between
Skin and
Bones and
left
unknotted
I notice the everything in it
I notice the stifling
pressure
And the stench
And ignorance

I wait for sleep
And I ask to be carried there
I ask to be lifted and carried there

I imagine Spirit holds my hand
And waits with me
Unable to do anything
But make Its presence known
and I think very quietly that suffering together
may work

In a Dark Way
my heart beats like a
trapped and dying animal
like a re-opened wound
or soft fresh scab

it aches with truth
trying to escape
looking for a fruitful branch
a wise old tree
or mothering

my heart bleeds itself open
dripping small red dots
that smell like
the frozen biting wind

it pulsates raw knowing
splatterings of shut valves
plugged ducts
a brokenness
only some know

my heart carries me
it reminds me
it hears me
and it sees me
in a dark way
full and red and bursting
3/17/16
a fairy getting started
the water was what i needed
i won’t tell you what i loved
