Dressing

Mostly always modest,
I wear my one-piece swim
suits like a relic or a
ghost woman
on the shore

I cover up and I
end up getting so
steaming hot
that I tear off those
heavy unnecessary
clothes back at home
feet screaming in the
September heat
I tear the black
scarf from my neck
like I am my own damn
birthday present
I unwrap myself and
when I look into the
mirror
I see that I am naked
and somewhat beautiful
and if I just showed off
a shoulder or two…
but then I forget and
I wake and I wrap
myself up again
in cloth and jean
and leather

I roast in the
Indian summer
wondering
Who is it
that I’m hiding
from?

Love Blues Balance

Twelve cups of coffee later and I have (finally!) completed my book of poems Love Blues Balance. A project I have been compiling for weeks now has a cover and 108 pages of material. Just awaiting approval from Createspace and then I will a) order a copy for myself and b) order copies to distribute. A special thanks to friend and photographer Kirsten Lara Valenzuela who provided the lovely cover image you see here.

Can’t wait for distribution! Stay tuned!  <3

BookCoverPreview

So I Am a Woman

So I am a woman
occupying a square
a circle a triangle
a rectangle a glob
of space
of air
of spit
or moisture
of particles                                                                                    space
and earth matter
beneath and above
and all around me
I like this space
I take this space
for granted
I rarely look up
at all that wiggle-
room above my head
I rarely jump,
but I should
I forget that
S       P        A       C     E
is not something
everyone has
I neglect to be thankful
for what I can control,
for what I do possess
Instead I go to extremes
trying to control things
way way wayyyyyyyy
outside-of-me
maybe even up in
someone else’s space

Today was sad but
stupid-sad like,
like running late
to work though
not really late
just the type
that’s like
Oh I can’t take a
hot cup of coffee
with me
I can’t change my
scarf or my skirt late
like Poor me whaddami
gonna do without
my hot coffee
without
my perfectly
selected shoes

So I get in my car
and take a quickdeep
breath
I say to myself
I’ve got my health,
among other things
I’ve got my    s   p    a     c    e
and I start to list those
things for which I’m thankful for:
Thankful the windshield
isn’t frozen over
Thankful for a
heated leather seat
Gosh, how much do I
really need?
Thankful the customers don’t
come in til nine
and only because I want
to clear my mind
Thankful I have a job!
and one that I like!
Thankful we made love last night
Thankful for the space to think
it all over
the solitude of being young
and childless
and grandchildless
and great-grandchildless
though I hope for those things too–
for now I am Daughter

I am a woman
occupying a square
a circle a triangle
a rectangle a glob
of space
of air
of spit
or moisture
of particles
and earth matter
beneath and above
and all around me
I take this space
for granted
I rarely look up
at all that wiggle-
room above my head
I rarely jump,
but I should

A Good Dare

I dare us all to
break out of our molds
to defy the iron that binds us
Neverminding
what he thinks of me
what she thinks of me
or how little or big of me
they think it
too often a day
we play to our strengths
or worse to our weaknesses
I won’t even say what
they all think of me
or the lows I think
of myself
But I challenge us all
right here right now
to step out of that trap
and live more creatively
more daringly
more freely
to live life more
freethinkingly

How To Deal With Monsters

As a kid I’d get scared
We all did I know
We feared a thing
called Monster
It’s origins unknown
Yes it could be
under the bed
in the closet
down the hall
but where did this
thing come from
all slimy sickly and slow
I thought it all over
I thought it through
real good
I though if I ever
actually meet the
monster,
I’d know just what
to do:
I’ll make friends
with it, I said
a monster seems
a lonely thing
now I know I
only wanted to
manipulate the
monster–get him
to stay under the bed.
Do we ever dream
up female monsters?
No I think we don’t
Do we have good reason to?
Sometimes, but mainly no
Amazing that I feared the
green and gooey
When monsters
were all around me
Well at least there
were one or two
But people called them
Grandfather, Neighbor
or just Joe
Rather than run
from them
call them out
or call the cops
we would roast
them chickens
fill their coffee,
clean their pots
Now I’m not saying
the women were angels
the men were devils
and that was that
but there’s something
to be said for fighting
not running
when things get bad
So if you ever meet
a monster
Don’t you listen to me
Instead of making friends,
you just be as loud as
you can be
Scream, shout, bite, tell it all
Don’t you hold a thing back
There are exceptions to this
rule, as life isn’t always
white and black
But use your rage and
use it good
Be wise beyond your years
Know that monsters come in
all sizes and ages
And this is how you know their near:
You feel it in your gut
it doesn’t have to be dark outside
The monster doesn’t have to
be scary
When you know
you know
you know
you know
And I know you know
what I mean
The sooner you tell
somebody about it
the sooner the monster
stops feeding
But even if it’s been
years and years
come out with the
thing and start
your healing

At the Post Office

So full of dreams
like me
a young woman
comes in for keys
I’ll be here for life!
She tells me
through her bright
blue eyes
through her strait
young teeth
I don’t hesitate for
a second
I don’t skip a beat
What’s your lucky number?
I ask her
So we can get you
a box that you like.
We wrangle the woman a
mail square to last a lifetime,
should mail last that long
I swallow the knowledge
of divorce
and betrayl
all stories
my boxes tell
We talk for
over one hour
about the land
our man
our jobs
and plans
the girl’s got
a grand plan
though not
yet a roof
I mean she’s
got a place
it’s dilapidated
and out in
the rain
but I can see
given her stance
that failure doesn’t
stand a chance
like me she’s
banking on
her man
her vision
and most of
all her strength
I withhold from
shouting friend!
Long lost
counter-part!
I withhold from asking
What is your sign?
I’m betting it must be
fire like mine
I simply nod my head
and shake her hand
and wonder if there’s
more in store
for her
for me
for us
for our men
for our stories
for our boxes
for our lives
A young woman
comes in for keys
so full of dreams
like me
I swallow the knowledge
of divorce
and betrayl
all stories
my boxes tell
I keep the faith
and I keep it well
for it is my very own story
that I’m trying to sell

Get My Word In

I write with vigor
but I can’t talk with
my friends
Some nights they’re
like this
I can’t push and
force myself into
behaving so I find
a groove with
the music and
I speak through my
fingers and onto
the page

I will not beg to
be one of the girls
one of the girls
with a way of words
from her mouth
but a woman who
hordes the thoughts
and later arranges
them so onto the page

Later spilling them
throwing them at my friends
at my lover
while they’re sleeping
or silent and I can
finally get my word in