word salad (aka my poems)

righton through 2

accepting the insidious struggle of my limitations

allows room for creating great beauty

as i reach out

for you


stripped of restriction

addiction is an affliction

of power

with our thumbs up our asses

we run circles

around nothing

in a desperate attempt

to anestisize

we delay relentless anxiety

while being bombarded

with disinformation

slamming down

cramming in

jamming up the fax

between cracked pavement

from 73 car radios around us

while 12 and a half million computers boot

to various virus threat reboot messages

and mired maximum cpu warnings

traffic signals

parking meters

elevator rays

microwave burritos

eaten in fiberglass cubicles

swallowing stale recycled air


and humility

we fry

2,000 years of lies later

truth volcanically resurfaces

and it’s simple

the secret to happiness

is service or suffering


not stand up for the flag service

or wimbledumb service

or bake sale service

or service with a smile service

but please my friend

sit here

in my most comfortable chair

and allow me to remove your burden

and your shoes

so i may wash your feet


please share all i have worked hard for


allow us to break bread

refresh our throats

and lift our spirits


rest in my bed this night

and remember we are kin


as tomorrow we return to war

before nam and beyond

irag…..genocide….iran…..apartide…..darfur…..what more

many spirits hang in purgatory


what happened to addiction

i’ve wondered into fiction

you’re thinking

i’m thinking

you’re thinking

but it has nothing to do with thinking

it’s about blinking and seeing

and moving and being

it’s about forgetting ourselves

letting go

going long into the night of futility


of course we believe

we are powerless

by definition

that’s oppression

being responsible for the effort

and not the outcome

which conveniently

removes personal responsibility

allows one small thought


hands it over to invisible demons

and angels

how foolish when we are god

look into my eyes

wash my feet

hold my hand

while i inhale your divinity

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

closed from business


reads the sign on me

deadbolts locked

curtains drawn

lights out

no cable

no web

no dial a prayer

no best of luck

all further inquires should be directed

in your mirror

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

roll away


i’ve slept beside ogres

i’ve slept beside fairies

not all were good

not all were merry

pick and choose

fall as they may

one thing’s for sure

they all roll away

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

this recipe makes the best bag lady

i know; surely others would alter it, but, i believe it’s all the same


a lifetime of pain

a failed system

an ocean of abuse

few who actually care

tons of lip service

several years of menopause

a boat load of physical illness

generations of  mental illness

decades of overwhelming poverty

two or three failed relations

a thousand broken promises

many imposed expectations

a million disappointments

a society of shunners

either too much drugs and alcohol or not enough; choose which is appropriate


choose any 5 ingredients, shake often, keep under a veil of denial, when the mixture becomes unstable bake until charred, inside and out

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

some of my poetry


isn’t mine at all

yes i hold the pen

and own the responsibility

of my telephone existence

yet the words come through me

not to me

from spirit to you

such are the poems that touch you


as it touches me

to be invited to end our lonlytood

* * * * * * * * * *

many golden souls. . . .


come through the early morning sunbeams. . . .

to awaken. . . .

my remembering. . . .

the dreaming lesson. . . .

of last night’s slumber. . .

magdalana stands before us. . .

the room is small. . . .

cross beams are trees. . . .

and windows so luminous. . . .

i must close my eyes to see myself. . . .

my creator. . . . .

required me to come to you. . . .

please. . . .

all of you . . . .       

 listen. . . .

you have no sin. . . .

you are. . . . .

as i am. . . .

and we are infinite


* * * * * * * * * *

it doesn’t take long


before they come

a bowl of sacred smoke

or two

a cup of coffee

sitting in the early morning sunshine

and there’s a poem

i’m writing again

with much gratitude

as veils open

the sun’s rays become a gate

the charge hits

my pen flys


a full page

quickly flips and dips

with lyrics entraining to the first dew driplets

* * * * * * * * *

it’s peculiar


the taste of me

as i’m wasting here

feeding from necessity

feeding from needing

i smell nasty

like the cat pissed in my armpits

this cold’s got my ass beat

carrying the malignancy

of my destiny

my rattling lungs

sound like gattling guns

as i slam another nail

into my coffin

* * * * * * * * *

last night

i watched ez rider. . . .

and remembered

the war in america. . .

and many brutal incidents

in the late 60’s. . .

like when my friend guy

was beaten beyond recognition. . .

by state troopers. . . .

guy healed. . . .

and dared to stick his thumb out. . .

again. . . .

we were running from america. . . . .

lately looking into my neighbor’s eyes. . .

i wonder. . . .

are we grieving. . . .

who still carries the guilt. . . .

in wakeless hours. . . .

wringing hands. . . .

grinding teeth. . . .

yet never confessing. . .

501 nations. . . .

lumped together as hippy scum. . .

beaten into submission. . . .

we put down our beads. . .

picked up careers. . .

and abandoned the revolution. . . .

still some persist. . . .

heathens on the fringe. . . .

and those coming up. . . .

listening to dylan and eminem. . . .

sitting in front of a redwood. . . .

or guitar hero

* * * * * * * * * *

would you. . .


walk with someone’s granny

suffer my inequities

listen to my poetry

laugh at my bungling

encourage my genius

recognize my divinity


i would. . .


paint rainbows in your dreams

bring you breakfast in bohemia

shovel the path before you awake

nourish your potential

wash your feet

celebrate your breath


we could. . .


lean into each other’s broken places

banish foe

relieve pain

defy time

build our soul mansion

* * * * * * * * * *

clothing like an orange peel

contains me

it’s rough

regular exterior

covers the essence of my presence

where ancient rivers flow


with flickering pinks, blues and violets

a single button opened

or stocking removed

just as thumb nail against orange navel

releases a bursting warning

of the overwhelming fragrance

coming to tempt

the tongue of time

with deeper force comes deeper pleasure

as paler flesh reveals

the promise

of enraptured sustenance


begging the question

will you peel me


and reveal me

to your pressure

with pleasure

knowing before you get here

you will return here

i will nourish and protect you

like vitamin c against the cold

* * * * * * * * *


i can be mean

when i don’t mean to be mean

it would be easy to shift the blame

maybe it’s menopause

maybe i’m fragile

maybe it’s yet to be healed pain

maybe it’s cause you hurt my feelings

maybe it’s due to being cancerian

with leo rising

maybe it’s adhd

maybe i’m a geiser

maybe i’m exhausted

maybe i’m hypersensitive

maybe baby maybe

my crab and lion protect me

and propel me

as does all else

protection is fearfull

propultion is lovefull

the word maybe is null and void

everything after

will never exist

it’s as shameful as my own shame

to say maybe

and worse to be mean

i will remember to

take black cohosh

build my strength

heal my pain

dismiss hurt feelings

read my horoscope

take my aderall

put a lid on it

be gentle with myself

toughen my skin

the truth is


i can be mean

when i don’t mean to be mean

* * * * * * * * * *

must have heard the sun yawn

awoke to 4 am silence

feeling feather light

skipped out into the dew kissed darkness

my good drum in hand

the birds sang with me

all the way down

to where two rivers meet

just as morning sky kissed my eyelids

the birds, my drum and i began to pray

grateful for the glaciers, earthquakes, beavers

chaos and ancestors

gathered here

holding this place

so two rivers may join

* * * * * * * * * *


right now

seems to be

the perfect time for


long slow

moment of aaaahhhhh

but it’s been three


since i’ve

slammed another nail

in my own damned


tomorrow would

be three months

and a day hey


oh yeah

i will wait

to cough up another


of brown

fecund lung slime

to remind myself no





* * * * * * * * * *

am i alone in my thinking

there’s an inkling of truth

when i realize

frustration breeding frustration

stems from needing fear

oh yes i do need fear

to relinquish personal responsibility

when can’t reins

through my breath

into thought

into action

into warring

i can’t

you can’t

leaves us all victim of ourselves

hiding behind my outwardly pointing finger

i harshly linger frozen

as my tongue sticks to icy meanness

isn’t it so much easier

to see me as your inferior

delirious to relish the pain

in vain i shun the mirror

we each are for the other

why bother owning won’t

too in your face

too empowering

so far out of bounds

further than alice or goldylocks would wander to wonder

do i dare to stretch

to accept my power of choice

raise my voice

throw up my hands

roll my eyes

scream out loud

i won’t

that’s right you heard me

i won’t stand for my own stupidity

i shun the toxic rigity of fearing

in order to open into loving myself

i’m more comfortable when i realize

how wise i am

accepting my limitations

brings me closer to my possibilities

won’ting something

takes away nothing needed

thus ending my bullshit

cross potentiating intention with invention

the newly opened door

beckons me to realize

i am alone in my thinking

i am the only one in here

near my fear

i force myself to turn and embrace my truth

as i am ever alone

only in my thinking

remembering in the end there’s only one ass

i can save

my own

thank me

for allowing myself to become

the consummate me

* * * * * * * * * *


quite accidentally

i find myself

on the brink

of tears

experiencing bliss

lifting beyond intention

colors splaying

as above

so below

dancing through time


lifting higher


many drummers


simultaneously piercing consciousness

and skin

* * * * * * * * * *

they’ve worked so hard

my hands

splendidly becoming proficient

in skills undreamed of

now twisted

aching for movement

caressing my grandsons faces


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

am i just


a loser



a phoenix


am i lazy

starring out the window

solving the riddle of time

fearing success

not giving a mundane damn


are my tattoos

the manifestation of self mutilating behavior

the stained glass of my soul


a desire for artistic release


am i immoral

sucking the life out of everything around me

languishing in divine sexuality

not doing my part

chasing rainbows


is my ability to hyperfocus


a divine gift

avoidance tactics

sacred space for creating miracles


i don’t understand

being grounded

or mixed up numbers

i don’t understand

simultaneously loving and hating people

or why i don’t pay attention

i don’t understand

how you see me

or why i so easily become overwhelmed

or my insatiable sexual appetite

or my right-on intuition

i don’t understand

why i can’t stay

or my need for loud music

or how i get lost

or why you don’t want me

i don’t understand

why i’m homeless

wherever i am

or why it makes perfect sense

i don’t understand

why you don’t understand

or why our brains function differently

i don’t understand

your questions

or your reasoning

or your need to control me

i don’t understand

what’s next

i don’t understand

why i don’t understand




i just don’t know


do i blurt out

from judgmental ego

to give random messages from spirit

because i am simply rude

or possessed


do i self medicate

due to addictive predisposition

to regulate disbursement of pain

for fun

or in order to have fun


do you know me

as a nuisance

an alley

as incompetent

or just plain crazy


will it help

to institutionalize me

to educate yourself

to psychoanalyze me

to arm me against your insensitivity


is it odd

that i can be so generous

that you could love me

that there is hope

that i need to be colorful


do you recognize

my struggle

your fear

my heartfullness

your narrow mindedness


do you wish

i would grow up

you didn’t have to deal with me

i would wake up

or just give you a break


do you give me

the brush

a helping hand




when i come for treatment

am i med seeking

truly sincere

a waste of your precious time

a reminder of your inability to be effective


can you hear me

screaming out in class

singing to the moon

crying myself to sleep

begging for alms


i’m beginning to realize

there is hope for me

i’m beginning to realize

there are no excuses

there aren’t even many good answers

i’m beginning to realize

the answers are secondary anyway

i’m not just insane immoral lazy a bad seed shiftless stupid hopeless

i’m beginning to realize

i’m happy with my personal brand of craziness

i need to putter

i’m beginning to realize

there’s hope for you

we see things differently

you have demanded an explanation to questions i can not answer

i’m beginning to realize

the solution to my puzzle

i’m beginning to realize

the solution to your puzzle

i’m beginning to realize

you are here to give the big picture

i’m here to fill in the details


please forgive me

when i break your rules

for veering off task

when i don’t hear you

i’m busy writing poetry

* * * * * * * * * *

when you saw me


on the corner in front of the bodega

selling nickel bags

did you recognize

my dreams

when you saw me

running from my momma screaming

she’s hurting my brother

did you recognize

my spark

when you saw me

torn and dirty

puking on the sidewalk

did you recognize

my dignity

did you stop to greet me

as if you’d reach deep within yourself

and touch the cable

that runs through me

into you

when you saw me

up against the wall

choking back tears

did you recognize

my determination

as i became your mirror

when you saw me

did you recognize

my creator

did you stop

* * * * * * * * * *

having a tiny space



smothers me

choking back

the big price


having a tiny space


saves me from bagladydumb

saves me from hiding nightly terrified

saves me from faking sanity


having a tiny space here

robs the dignity

privacy offers

working through intrusion

after intrusion


having a tiny space


demands my presence

in the sun

to escape


having a tiny space


limits me

demanding my mess

to stay tight

or risk ruin

having a tiny space


forces me to listen

to dished out bullshit

and the autumn wind’s coyote symphony

wreaks the stench of

having a tiny space


allows time to seep away

allows me to stop

and write my heart out

before my balloon pops

i write cry giggle

write giggle cry


having a tiny space


tempts me under

reminders of where safety


wishing i wasn’t

having a tiny space


forces compromise

in my values

in my boundaries

in my freedom

only because

having a tiny space


smothers me

choking back

the big price


having a tiny space


in fagan’s lair

* * * * * * * * * *

if i lay down


behind you

with my nose

in the nape of your neck

will our heartbeats entrain

and all else fall away

as we drum together

into the night

* * * * * * * * * *

do you hear me cry myself to sleep each night


across the fog soaked distance

so wanting to surrender to the darkest slumber

yet promises unmade and birthday cakes unbaked

refuse my vacancy

so onward empty

i tread into another day without you

* * * * * * * * * *

attempting to penetrate the fortress of man


against accusations of control

seeking a window or door or even a crevasse

finding only cold stubborn cement

feeling smaller and smaller

denying futility


pondering the possibility of illusion

and delusion

was there ever light

or did wanting create deception

he must see me

as his dagger pierces my psyche


is this assault enjoyable

or unavoidable

is the power of his stance impenetrable

i retreat

licking wounds

and access

why i allow the war to continue

when truly i do not care to fight


is the brass ring of union

only attainable

through battle

* * * * * * * * * *

when i dance for you


i will come wrapped in veils, shawls, and long black lace

fastened with silver and many colored stones

as i shimmy closer

you may recognize my fragrance

you may recognize my hesitancy

as i glide away across the floor

and you are left to savor

for just a moment

lift above yourself

and notice you

noticing me

as i loosen my veil

and swirl it through the air

invoking infinity

you may recognize my wings

you may recognize your desire

to fly

as i notice you noticing me

my breath deepens

your breath draws me back

closer again

to wrap my veil around your shoulders

as you find yourself

face to face with my heart

you may recognize my desire

you may recognize my breath

in your ear

tiny silver symbols jangle

as ancient drummers remember

and stomp it all back at us

you may recognize my skirt blurring

you may recognize many spirits

dancing around me

in a circle

we will entice you

back here

to safety

to creation

to the first moment of love

to fly

you will feel the vibration

through the floor

through your feet

through the chair

through the blur

will you use my veil

to connect

as i drop my shawl

will you grab it

and savor

for just a moment

this dangerous



or leave it to fall

revealing the full span of my shoulders

as my arms become medusa’s snakes

will you withdraw to decompress

leaving me to whirr

back into the blur

or invite more to be revealed

i will divert your attention

to my toe

as it traces the calf of your leg

will you touch my leg

and notice

my feet

are not all that is bare

you may recognize my need

you may recognize everything

as i shimmy and lace begins to fall

will you stop me or help me

until the tempo slows

and my fingers take over the dance

tracing your lips

you may recognize my touch

you may recognize me trembling

while i unzip you

and kneel to taste the first few drops of your lust

indulging my tongue

will you hold yourself

as i rise

and straddle you

lowering myself into your lap

bringing you into me

you may recognize my sigh

you may recognize me

* * * * * * * * * *

did you realize

you will not hear me

puttering around the kitchen

in the wee hours

preparing the day for you

you will not hear me

sing with cyndi and shaggy

as i did in the garden

planting tomorrows bounty

you will not hear me

breathing beside you

comfortably home

finally resting


did you realize

you will not smell me

performing kitchen magic

with little and nothing

to delight your palate

you will not smell me

perspiring excitedly

beneath your touch

drumming to your beat

you will not smell me

submerged in a steamy tub

full of herbs and minerals

waiting for the scrub brush

you will not smell me

on your moustache

as you lick your lips

savoring linda pie


did you realize

you will not see me

stretching outside myself

to gather possibilities

of seemless tomorrows

for us to play with

you will not see me

knitting a monsterpiece

to cradle our dreams

in comforting warmth

you will not see me

dancing through the darkness

foot stomping into tomorrow

shaking off fear

you will not see me

painting rainbows in the kitchen

on a wintery morning

to brighten your day


did you realize

you will not touch me

sweaty skin to sweaty skin

becoming fluid together

as we are meant to

you will not touch me

with sarcastic daggers

designed to dismiss my dignity

and strengthen your ego

you will not touch these tears

racing down my face

drowning yesterday’s sorrow


did you realize

my words will be forever

on the tip of your tongue


* * * * * * * * * *

hello new moon . . .


we sit together. . . .

again . . .

on the agawam. . . .

as i ask you. . . .

one. . . .

more. . . .  

time. . . .

please bring my anam cara. . . .

i know he is there. . . .

somewhere. . . .

across this water. . . . .

waiting to see me. . . .

as i tread into yet another. . . .

single season. . . .

why. . . .

when the one who formed . . . .

together in the clay. . . .

with me. . . .

also waits. . . .

i’ve seen the false profits. . . . .

knowing my heart must be wizened. . . .

for him. . . .

yet. . . .

now fear. . . . .

he could see coldness. . . .

if one more pretender. . . .

crosses my path. . . .

having given so much away. . . .

my larder is still full. . . . .

for him. . . .

i await his teachings. . . .

his touch. . . .

and our gifting. . . .

in wonder. . . .

with gratitude. . . .

for all that i intend. . . .

and for all that is intended. . . .

for me

* * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

2 Responses to “word salad (aka my poems)”

  1. Your words, as always, are always a joy to read, whether upbeat or sad, and I still await reading your book! Also you have some fantastic photos and art work. So much talent in that little body!

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