Another drowning man
finds his way upon my shore. Another wounded soul kicked in the teeth by the gods, bad luck and some Siren… I taste the bile of knowing my recurring role in the story, the suspicious beginning, the sweet middle, and oh yes, the bitter end… I am not doing this again. My compassion has run out. My heart is a seeping patchwork, the work of previous Odysseuses. This Calypso quits. And Zeus can kiss my ass… Written August 2003
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Weary of the screams that filled her ears,
Tired of cleaning the blood from her fingernails, Her acorns turning to ash in her pointed beak, Macha turns away from the battle And her sisters In search for the normal life of home and family. Loving his children was easy. Tending the farm a joy. Laying with him in the night, She almost felt safe. Macha dreams of roiling clouds And jeering crowds To be betrayed by carelessness. It’s just a legend but it is her history, And she curses her part. written November 30, 2003 Death is a healing
torn and tired spirit stretched impossibly over worn, fragile flesh tears shed and wounds scarcely healed white scars; red eyes smells that live forever scents no one else notices pungent in the pinched room electronic bleeps keep time with the labored heart a torturous tarantella a ghost fist loosens its grip death is a healing not a failure Written 2005 I belong here and nowhere and everywhere
I am the sea that rises up and takes back Sides are being taken and lines are being drawn I wash over opposing armies indiscrimately I am the sea that rises up and takes back Hate and love, right and wrong, life and death These mean nothing to me I am the sea that rises up and takes back I am that I am Written July 2005 Swirling and spattered snow and smoke
Calls forth the dragon, ferocious and fierce Climb on, child, if you dare Hold on for dear life Ride the dragon, ride Wherever she takes you, you will see beyond knowledge Push, push through the veil that clouds your eyes Written May 2006 In the darkness of dawn, you will awaken from vivid dreams
In the darkness of dawn, you will look out and wonder In the darkness of dawn, you will stare out the window into the woods You have heard the call In the morning after the sun rises, you will put shoes on your restless feet In the morning after the sun rises, you will look for the map In the morning after the sun rises, you will close the door behind you You have heard the call In the afternoon with the sun overhead, you will ask yourself “why” In the afternoon with the sun overhead, you will wipe your brow and sigh In the afternoon with the sun overhead, you continue around the bend You have heard the call In the evening twilight, you will rest in the shade of the large oak tree In the evening twilight, you will cool your blistered feet in the river In the evening twilight, you will eat a crust of bread and a juicy fruit You have heard the call In the black of night, you will wonder if you did the right thing and went the right way In the black of night, you will hold yourself and pray to your gods In the black of night, you will sing the song of your soul to the stars You have heard the call In the morning when the birds sing, you will put your shoes back on In the morning when the birds sing, you will walk stiffly forward In the morning when the birds sing, you will remember why and smile You have heard the call Written July 2006 Lugh dies
and the sun strikes with rays of heat that oppress in revenge, with spears of light that burn our eyes and skin. First fruits Red blood August comes and the earth gasps in the death throes of summer, a fever pitched battle against the coming dark. Barlycorn Eat and run. Written in August 2006 I carry in my mind a picture postcard of the day you left,
Sepia-toned, faded, and worn around the edges, Where my eternally seven-year-old chubby fingers stroke, In devotion– A pilgrim to an ancient shrine where, Saints cry blood and the wicked Are forgetful–missing and ever present. Truth, lie, or heretical imagining, This is my story, This is my psalm to you– Dead and gone from the world; Living and ever leaving from my heart. Written December 2009 A growing tumor in her brain
breaks down the walls between life and death between form and force between here and gone As she falls down the well into the unknown Sentences stumbled over and left unfinished leaving her without speech leaving her without context leaving her without a name As she walks through the gates into the unknown Her body must be broken before she can leave us behind to rip our clothes in grief to scream in rage and terror to hold each other in love As she climbs the tree into the unknown …into the arms of her lost beloved Written 2009 Last night I was in a fury.
I woke up at 2:17am And could not go back to sleep. I was still angry From earlier in the evening When my take-out meal Which was supposed to save me time Made me late For a meeting I didn’t really want to go to In the first place. Fuming in the darkness Because my husband’s hand Was touching mine Seeking contact, Because his shoulder Was crowding mine Seeking space, Because the dog Was snuggled between my legs Seeking warmth, And the kitten Lay on my chest Seeking comfort. Just get the fuck off of me! Just everybody STOP TOUCHING ME! Stop needing things from me! This morning I was in a rage. I had not slept well. I had an ice pick Lodged in my skull And a vice Clamped on my shoulder. Oh, and it was raining. At the front door to my office Stood a wet young man Looking up at the sky In sorrow. I guess that my notice of him Invited a response. “I’ve been inside all week In a conference Looking out at the sun, And the one day I have to Explore the city It rains,” he said With a foreign accent And one of those grimaces That says I-am-not-all-that-upset. “Do you have an umbrella?” I asked. He shook his head And so I handed him mine. “Really? Thank you!” he said In wonderment and joy. As I walked through the door And past the security guard, I felt tears on my face Of release and relief. Now, I’m just tired but feel a little freer. Written March 10, 2011 |