Saturday, February 28, 2009

A Quiet Revelation

everything I say
i've learned about living,
you already know
you've already heard
my words are like wallpaper
my words are like gray cement floors
you don't even meet my eyes with yours
you are onto another face or place
move your body to another space

yesterday driving down
open country roads
with the radio off and only hearing
my own head
I knew I could tell you what I know,
knew I could say the words with
all my heart behind them
knew you would still give me that blank stare
knew that to really know
you have to lay yourself open
even when it hurts too much to see.


#28 Mary 2009


Words fly
Landing nowhere
Blank slate

Hearts cry
Sweet stare
Readily wait

Poets die
Lovers share
Timeless fate

Friday, February 27, 2009

#27 Mary 2009

Another Haiku

Creates monsters of the mind
Discovering life

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Coming Home

there is much to be said about coming home
after a long time away from the big, old empty house
that seems to groan "I missed you"
as you cross the threshold, road-weary,
dragging suitcases up the stairs

the cats are dancing at your feet
you throw open windows to clear the air
birds begin to mysteriously gather on the rail
somehow noting the movement of your
figure crossing the room to fetch a cip of tea,
to just sit and take notice,
the delicious pleasure of the familiar.


#26 Mary 2009

If Only

Doubts linger
Fading revives
Continual sequence
Reliving moments
Decisions inspected
Universally flawed
Roads unexplored
Seem greener
Pastures ahead
Dreams flow
Ebbing away
Longing days
Never known

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

#25 Mary 2009

Win The Game

Trapped by the past
Burdened baggage clings
Saddled spirits creep
Lethargic echoes of frustration
Relaxation soothes souls
And mends minds
Open and suggestible
Changing habits into happiness
Dreams become reality
Hello to goodbye
Fly free toward the future

Ash Wednesday

a fat gray cat with a pink collar
sits in the green wicker chair
pissing off the squirrel in a tree
who curses in a foreign tongue

what snow was left melts away
displaying the winter-ravaged
yard, the naked soil,
the piney, prickly dead things

dried and broken
dust I am
dust I shal return

as sure as the snow will melt
the cat moves on
the squirrel descends
finds sustenance
among the dead.


Beach People

I draw beach people on Sanibel Island
I draw them randomly without asking permission
I draw them quickly
lines indicating shape and gesture
I am a voyeur behind shades
the beach is seashell-coated
the people have organic bodies
that grew out of the sand
sketchy limbs jutting out beneath
plaid shorts and rolled sleeves
bulbous bellies protruding
above lycra suits
seagulls circle and cry

I give them color without paint
I breathe life into their faces
their noses and mouths
I lift their arms or leave
them dangling like weak branches
I lift their legs, make them
run along the shore
a few dance, the young ones,
with abandon and without seeing themselves
the others move slowly,
eyes to the sand, searching,
some hand-in-hand,
eyes to the horizon, knowing

For today,
we exist here only
as beings, one with the earth
only in the searing sun
our faces kissed
our eyes closed
thinking we have
found a paradise
like we have come home.


Tuesday, February 24, 2009


I can be perfect - if I only try a little harder
I can be perfect - if I only try a little harder
I can be perfect - if I only try a little harder

I am not trying hard enough
Work harder, work harder, do more, do more!
Be the best, be the best
I can be perfect

I am a failure - I am worth nothing
I am a failure - I am worth nothing
I am a failure - I make myself sick

I cannot succeed, why did I try?
I am nothing, nothing, nothing!
I am not perfect, I am not worthy
Shame shame shame

I can be perfect - if I only try a little bit harder...

#24 Mary 2009


Stolen desires mourn
Hiding in obscurity
Merge on the horizon
Listening to agony murmur
Faith considers facts
Examination graded failure
Persuading moments
Belong to none and all

Day 24 - anna kiss

tasks drop in open barrels
labor's fruit
ripened and readied,
and checkmarked,
weighed for content,
inspected for form,
and dismissed
into waiting assembly lines
of time passed,
of neglected memory,
that no longer needed,
yet also satisfied.
ultimately, the hunger stops for nothing,
so this days' sating
is relegated to oblivion,
and tomorrow's need thrums
loud and proud
as ever.

Monday, February 23, 2009

#23 Mary 2009


Sorrow meanders
Flowing over rocks
Pouring into the earth
While shadows rise
And dreams chase
Time sketches existence
Ambitious hearts race
At the speed of light
Eternal in all its glory


With a sliver of remorsement for the days we used to know
Leaning toward the future, with a silent wave, you'll go
There is no chance of salvation
We can't stop this presentation
Just a hope that life will treat you well no matter where you go

With a longing heart imprinted on the sandy shores below
The last touch of remembrance, you'll turn away; you'll go
I have no separate dreams waiting
I'll just sit here contemplating
The impact that the winds of change can blow

And with time parting, I will stand and through the years will grow
But one day oh so silently we both know that you'll go
You'll go softly with no tears
And I will overcome the fears
Of misconception of the days we used to know

Sunday, February 22, 2009


nail me to the cross I've built, oh shepherd boy
a lifetime's work I've put into it, oh nail me, shepherd boy

no we cannot be together, hear the chimes, you must go now
hail ye now the mighty dollar, shepherd boy walks off to war
hey hey the steeple cowers, thrust my cross into the ground
hey hey his young mind wanders, to the great cause he is bound

all around me lay the bloodstains, oh shepherd boy
the soldiers' ghosts prophecies around me, oh shepherd boy

here he marches on the field, hear the grand old cannonballs
fire to save your burning spirit, shepherd boy can see no more
hey hey battle has begun, nails wound me to the bone
hey hey the war is eternal, hear my creaking spirit groan

hell burns in all her glory now, oh shepherd boy
the fires that rage cannot be silenced, oh shepherd boy

all the dreams of power and righteousness, hear the cries of the boy's heart
do what's told and don't you dare ask why; shepherd boy can hear no more
hey hey the sky is lighted, i am bound with ropes and gore
hey hey the flame's ignited, welcome to the depths of war

hear the last of my sobs tonight, oh shepherd boy
all is fair in love and war now, oh shepherd boy

tortured, twisted, all the horrors no child's face ever should see
so shall you meet the face of death, shepherd boy there is no more
hey hey the cause of justice, now my cross does stand alone
hey hey the body perishes, all the world has turned to stone

goodbye to our one last factor, oh shepherd boy
my soul is scratched, the wounds forever, oh shepherd boy

hey hey the steeple cowers, thrust my cross into the ground
hey hey the war is ended:
no one left to hear the sound

#22 Mary 2009


Silence breeds softly
Humming memories
Yearn in the distance
Diligent surrender
Listens to the light
Bottomless peace
Escaping gently
Spirit over mind
Present versus past
Clarity rescues reason
Tranquility divine

Saturday, February 21, 2009

#21 Mary 2009

Help Wanted

Unsolicited advice
Miles in moccasins
Trails and tribulations
Befuddled incompetence
Screaming to be heard
Through skulls too thick
Boxed ready to ship
Journey unexplored
Reflected in the mirror
Life never lived

#20 Mary 2009

Here We Go Again

Brooding through the months
Cursing days and years
Half empty glasses smash
Flooding calendars with hate
Stomping emotions past the deep
Festering to the surface
Sweet putrid love forgiveness begs
Charming inside again
Round and round the gloom
Another ballet begins


What's wrong, little child?
Hanging pendulum from the ceiling
Licking the thorny vine
Millenniums pass and still looking
Silent stars, your single companion
Lost, lonely girl
Where has your life gone?
And what have you to show for it?
Picking trash to stay alive
Tripping over dead and decomposing dreams
Left to rot in a pool of acid
Dripping chemicals like a ladybug's tear

Strong scents of incense
Drifting through the heavy blankets of smog
That stings my eyes and makes them tear
The songbird sings no more

Fear not, she says
There is a safe escape
Do not listen to what they tell you
You have chosen your fate
Planned it thoroughly
And you dare claim to be afraid?

Death smiles all around us
Kneading his twisted fingers into a ball of success
Grinning with his evil eye
Life becomes powerless
Overcoming neither the simple task of survival
nor the eternal dream of happiness

I see your face is covered
Peering through the eerie silence
There is nobody left but you and me---
Find your own way home.

Friday, February 20, 2009


And evermore I long to run
And in the end there is only one

All the tears that I have shed
Leave no mark in the world
This glorious, strong goddess
Is a lost and lonely girl

All the times I looked your way
You never heard what I had to say

But the sun will shine before me
And I will walk the path of gold
And melt down all the walls of ice
In this dark and bitter cold

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Bedroom Still Life

keep the shutters closed so
I can sleep in past sunrise yet
black birds move outside windows
sing, sing, sing

the ceiling fan stirs a lazy breeze
that blows across the chaos of covers
the pile of pillows flung about the floor

I have left the desk lamp on
the Tiffany shade is stunning

I am certain it means something
the placement of the wrought iron

bird beside the bottle of
"curvascious" red nail polish

words and their meanings, escape me.


Bathroom Still Life

rainbows hang like webs in windows
do their crazy dance when the sun
hits them laughing

the valentine's roses hang their redheads
to cry beside the neon blue toothpaste

spilled over coffee cup stains
and I lock the door to be alone

while I stare into the mirror
and try to remember my name.



Anticipation leads to nothing
You build me up to tear me down
I have once more, been forgotten
Beaten, defeated, on the ground

And who guards where I'm meant to stand?
How many? Many more!
So foolish for me to believe
It would be me whom you'd adore

What goes up, they say, must come down
You are my heartsick sin
Like I've done so many times before -
Will keep it all within

House Guests

the house guests have arrived
I believe I am using them as my
latest reason not to write

oh, there are dinners to attend
beaches to walk, a trip to Naples
shopping, day tripping
I leave it to their design

it is so much easier to say
I was just being polite
just being a good hostess
just making sure we were all happy

in one week
I will have earned my freedom

and, perhaps, then, I will write


#19 Mary 2009


Gentle in all its purpose
Softly bringing forth
Shivering spine and skin
Warmth embraces love
Sweetly whispering nothing
Overwhelmed intimacy
Passion engulfs
Satisfaction guaranteed

Wednesday, February 18, 2009


One day
One day
In my prime
One day
I will shine
One day
At a time

#18 Mary 2009

Healed With A Scar

Balloons twist and pop
Ending parties of the past
Taking the good with the bad
Hidden shallowly away
Easily scratched open
Oozing into the present
Ramifications realized
Buried deep within my heart

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

#17 Mary 2009


Drops of sunshine
Puddle in the sky
Depicting dreams
Promises of tomorrow
Misty slumber
Distantly awakens
Rain before dawn

About Saving

the children are coming to visit
the children are coming to stay
awhile to find the place
you've been hiding out in,
to see it for themselves

you don't say a thing but
you think I can save them
you think I can save you
you think I have the patience
of someone who saves

we are all blinded by this
furious tropical sunlight
that renders the eye
useless, viewing spots
upon the leopard

I say I have pots and pans to purchase,
guest rooms to tidy,
and properly towel,
a refrigerator to stock with the
requested necessities

I haven't the time for incantations
for plans of action
for lectures, lovingly presented

these children are grown
these children will arrive with
their own baggage
these children are like bag people,
so heavy with the selves they have
carried all these years

at twenty-one I thought I might
save the world
change the world
make a difference in the world
by the virtue of my youthful brilliance
and enthusiasm

now I yearn for a quiet
uncomplicated moment
a breath of air
to cleanse,
to calm my mind

I might
be able
to save something
of myself.


Painting You

today I painted you with commas,
red stained half-moons across the window

it was your idea in the first place
to make the view more appealing

and once begun, it was as if something
too long pent up inside me, burst

open with a vengeance and flowed and flowed
and overflowed, the red river running and staining

leaving the telltale red marks
while you sat in the garden

admiring the salvaged elephant
fountain, watering your world



There's a stillness in the night
And the moon is shining bright down onto me
There's a silence in the air
But a voice is hanging there calling to me

There are footprints on the coast
Of the legendary ghost lingering on
And a phantom vessel sails
To the isle under the veils, to Avalon

There's a lady on the lake
Her blood runs through my veins
A shadow of my motherland
Upon these grounds on which I stand
Oh, where is the circle?
Oh, where is the song?

There are some who say she's gone
But I know she lingers on lost in the haze
Where there's a dream, there's a way
And I will find my way back to Avalon

The starlight shines my way
As I roam about the bay, this summer sea
And the song plays in my mind
Like I'm reaching over time to destiny

For the time is drawing near
My seclusion's ending here; and there she lies
And the ancient wheel will spin
And the thickened mists will thin before my eyes

There's a greeting from the sun:
The time for change has come
With every step I wander
Gives me more of life to ponder
Oh, show me the doorway
Oh, send me a sign

When I see her glitter on
Like a jewel upon the dawn, I will be free
Where there's a dream, there's a way
And I will find my way back to Avalon

What is life without mystery?
What is time without memories?
Where do I go when I seek to go home ---
Where do I turn when the stars cease to burn?

To Avalon

Monday, February 16, 2009

#16 Mary 2009

Stormy silence screams
Empty expectations evolve
Into impossible integrity

Woman with a Backless Dress

the man with the shaved head
keeps a rhythm
sliding his hand, exploring,
up and down along the wide open
space of back
of this girl's black dress

she squirms
down beneath the sequins
that ride the base of her spine
her glasses are for cool
when she licks her Flamenco Red lips
in the ladies room mirror
we become audience

this is merely a dress rehearsal


I don't know what day anymore, I'm so behind - anna kiss

you've grown so big
I can't even recognize
the who in you.
I cannot pinpoint
the sum total,
give some description

I am accustomed to complete biographies,
the synopses of the lives of famous and important people.
it had not occurred to me that such pictures
were airbrushed and perfected.

I've spent a life hanging on the words of others,
their brief explanations of me,
who I seem,
lapping it up to
see how I might be seen.

words fail to adequately capture
the intricacies of you.
they create fictions
in which the holes
fill in with broad brushstrokes,
the mental default setting for Person.

yet to me,
you are dynamic and unknowable.
the you in you
remains unseen
and unexperienced.
I can only ever sense
those pieces which I assume
as like myself.


An open invitation to arouse your inspiration
Welcome to our celebration of a perfect liberation

Awaken, it's the witching hour
We're moonstruck with nocturnal power
We come from all directions to go running with the wolves

Exult this midnight ecstacy indulging in the lunacy
The night is wild and we are free and howling at the moon

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Valentine's Day Poem

look where the wind has carried us to now
we have been buffeted by breezes
so cold they sear flesh,
by currents so warm
they are breathy caresses

my face is a bit more weathered now
how is it you have only grown more handsome?

it is more than I had hoped for
this love of ours,
the depth of it

it is as if it has become a tangible thing;
embellished and marked in secret places
like private tattoos

I get lost in the nooks and crannies
the hidden rooms of it,
the spaces housing treasured memories,
the idiosychratic
the sentimental
the innocent

we are more than the journey we make
more than the fitting together two souls
adrift in time

I turn to see where I have been
and you were there
I breathe in this moment here, now,
and you are there
I set my heart free into the unknown
casting caution aside
at last,

you are...


#15 Mary 2009

Where Are You?

Waiting by the window
Anticipation runs high
In and out of calming clouds
Rising expectations infinitely
Possibilities slimming as they climb
Elevated beyond certainty
Skimming the surface edge
Arriving hopelessly in reality


Heart beat
Touch me
I'm here
Search me

Stand back
Look away
I'm gone
End the day

Turn back
Second glance
Question me
Take a chance


Shining brightly
Shadow sin
Forget me not
Try again

Phantom warning
Too much time
Fortune telling
Read my mind

Cursed angel
Tarnished glow
Hold my breath
Wretched soul


Saturday, February 14, 2009

#14 Mary 2009

Valentine’s Day

Somewhere in the mist
I see clearly through you
The dark disturbed soul
That is so like everyone
And still no one
Complicated confusion
Blurring lines of love
Tumble through time
Encompassing trails as it goes
We stand tall
Sagging to the ground
Melting together forever

#13 Mary 2009

Catching up

Always behind
A day late
A dollar short
Life continues
Its cyclical journey
Ahead for a moment
Glancing over shoulder
Overtaken in an instant
Glorious defeat
Optimistic in time
Crawling in first
Across the finish line


Forbidden fruit
I blush desire
you suck me in with ripe flirtation
all hot and flushed
and I'm on fire
can I withstand this grave temptation

Forbidden fruit
Blood red desire
of endless possibilities
the flesh is weak
and I'm a liar
i beg down upon my knees

innocence versus corruption
my salvation, my destruction
the time is right
the fruit is ripe
upon one spoken word this night......

Friday, February 13, 2009


All my tears are blackened
as the ashes fall onto the floor
I guess you can be happy
That I don't come around anymore

All my midnights clouded over
Loaded with the days I knew
Crushed by arrows piercing darkness
Clouds to overcast you

All my glory songs are silenced
Censored by your spoken word
The candle flame gone from your breath
My voice no longer heard

All my thoughts are broken down
And cast aside in my mind's eye
My days are ended in this book
I've no more tears to cry

Thursday, February 12, 2009

#12 Mary 2009

When At Last I Found You

Galloping through the meadow
In a field of frost and moonlight
Shining with all its glory
Satisfying friend and foe
Melting into midnight
Enduring tears and time
Hearts beating as one
Encompassing the world
Sympathizing beyond the ages
Happily ever after

Modern Life: Part II.

she glances at her watch without knowing she has one hour to live
he stares off into the distance claiming he has no time

to give her while she stares out the window watching palm trees
at dusk wave in wind like dancing scare-crowed silhouettes

says to no one how damn pathetic am I wondering
what happiness looks like in the eye of a beholder

sitting at a red light with a turn signal tapping out a steady beat

and the tiny woman is inching her way forward behind the big wheel
of an old white cadillac

he says, fuck, if I know
you are so fucking miserable you wouldn't know

happiness if it hit you upside your face so go
and she says fine watch me going out the door

she won't let herself cry
till she's out past the slam of it, safe behind the wheel

alone in her car and stepping hard
on the gas to pass everyone, and run away before

the tiny woman with the silver curls and saucer eyes
studies the timing of the light, tentatively

yellow, inching her way into the middle
of this last hour, slowly pushing down

on the pedal as the yellow becomes red
and the girl with the tears sees red, sees her anger

cover her vision till there is
nothing to it but a wall of water

her tears, her pedal down
hard like her fists on the wheel

and the sound of the impact will never leave her
the thud, the scrape, the powdery fall of metal
through the night air

like the exhalation
the aftermath
the smoke of the gun
the silver curls against a wondow.


#12 - anna kiss

Things of Which I am Thinking Just Now

photographing children
going to the library


She makes music and she sings
and hopes and dreams
and I love her oh so madly
yet she twists an eerie sickness
in her long brown hair
and she looks at me with drooping eyes
and tired skin and pale cheeks
she wants me to say the magic words
to make everything go away
to give her light anew
in sleeping twilight
her animal dreams
her childish, simple statements of
such a black looming cloud
she wraps around her like
grandmother's babushka
how i wish i could take you home
as i push you out the door.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

#11 Mary 2009


Visions painted by ghosts
Dance through my mind
Message of love blurred by the sea
Entrenched in my heart
Through the ages it breathes
Onward unending it goes as it went
Enduring it all with a hope and a prayer
Walls flooding down
Tomorrow washing away
Forever and always eternally stays
Gently returning time becomes only one
Missing nothing but sorrow
There’s nowhere to go

Day Eleven - anna kiss

imaginary numbers

the steady pace
of all things
betrays the underlying
the look of lists
the feel of wool,
paper, cotton, knit material
cut and stitched again together

am i feeling better?
how even do i feel?
do i fall suddenly and surprisingly
the wild turn on beds of stars,
never-ending absence of light,
vast plains of nothing?

do i feel surely,
with progression
accompanying predictably?
is it uncertainty
disguised by ennui?
the silence of overwhelm,
its roaring emptiness
and all the ultimate returns to something,
composed of the empty spaces between,
made and wrought of
not a thing identifiable,
but no less real
than all the tangible distractions of modern life.


Oh Playful friend of my childhood:

This is my feast, and you're invited
For see the candles we've ignited
A cup for you, a cup for me
Drink now, friend, to prosperity

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Day Ten - anna kiss

Things I Need To Do:

  • file taxes for my failed business
  • first contact CPA to barter with for filing taxes for my failed business
  • write two more poems I did not write
  • reapply for the soap wholesale account I already successfully applied for twice
  • then order soap
  • collect donations from mama friends for mama friend
  • ship gifts before baby is born
  • schedule babysitter for wine-tasting
  • finish giant blue argyle monkey
  • sew smaller blue argyle monkey
  • write newsletter for the food co-op
  • pay sales tax on past orders (and remember what past orders were)
  • come up with a gift for six-year-old whose heart is on wrong side of body
  • invent craft for Friday Lego Club
  • bake something delightful for Friday Lego Club
  • realize my own fallibility
  • read more of the Tolkien, improve literary knowledge
  • watch the Kurosawa films from the library, increase film knowledge
  • photoshop photos of lady's baby, hopefully find that my eye works, and photography knowledge not terrible
  • mop floors
  • find time to get all objects, food, bits of things off floor via dusting, sweeping then vacuuming prior to mopping
  • contact maurice regarding community supported agriculture group and the cooperation of our cooperatives
  • submit recipes to co-op cookbook, passing variation of muffin recipe off as new recipe
  • work on presentation to make me world famous environmental lifestyle expert for April PTA meeting
  • return emails, sound brilliant
  • pay bills, ensure they are not late and that I've not forgotten any
  • deposit check, poisoned by hate, re-frame in mind as gift from universe to aid in the reduction of poverty

#10 Mary 2009


Almost forgotten in a pile of shame
Stored behind blinding rage
Quivering fear devoured by flames
Squeamishly sensitive each every touch
Tightly bundled writhing free
Escaping in bits longing to be
Jealousy rears its ugly head
Nothing inside everything dead


Twilight in the garden
Purple swirling cloudy sky
Damp cool grass under bare feet
Sparkles of the fireflies

Citronella circling smoke
From tiki torches dimly lit
Bean stalk snaking round the trellis
Ashes in the fire pit

Black eyed susans lazy lounging
Berries fruiting on the vine
Sprouting buds reaching for heaven
The maple, oak and pine

Will you join me in my garden
Will you watch the faeries dance
Will you leave the city splendour
Will you come and take a chance

For here is life from bud to fruit
And here you meet eternity
Will you meet me in the garden
Come and watch life grow with me

Monday, February 9, 2009

Day 9 - anna kiss

the battle between
what is needed and what is done
rages constantly on
becomes questions of self-worth
and cycles accordingly
with guilt, obstinance
and the larger issue of what is
necessary and appropriate

all the while,
time drains,
energy stagnates,
hunger grows,
as does the depth and breadth
of the tasks at hand

the ongoing paralysis
lifts but with
a push
appeared of nowhere
of nothing
if only identifying the source
of inertia necessary
were probable
peace could ensue
where argument lingers
dark and light
could exist without their inherent opposition
tides would turn
walls crumble
and born of this,
the miraculous lifting of fingers...

Modern Life:Part I. One Liners

Ryan Ray lives in LA surviving on bread and potatoes
waiting for a call back that doesn't come in a studio
apartment in no man's land

Jerry builds a fortress in paradise pretending his
past life never happened while fixing his wig in the mirror

Errol sleeps his gastro-intestinal problems away
and his wife works and feeds the children yogurt
and frozen waffles in
the center of chaos

Mary Ella watches old movies and historical documentaries,
resting her breasts on the arm of an old stuffed chair
drinking old and cold coffee for days
before making a fresh pot

Ginger snaps her bra strap
strips and lets men touch her for twenty dollars
in between her thighs in dark corners of the cabaret
which is her life

Aesop writes fairy tales and wonders why his mother
chose such an odd name and then left him with strangers
holding a box of cereal with his picture on it

I look for meaning and find only brick walls


#9 Mary 2009

Always Something

Emotions breed
Exploding inside
Intensifying deliberately
Accidentally collide
Finding solutions
Growing intent
Undecidedly needed
Drowning aloud
Goodness prevails
Destiny awaits
Patiently living
Momentarily stops

Week One is Over!

Keep up the good work poets! For those who are a bit behind, no worries - there's still plenty of time to catch up. There's no rules to this gig, so you can assign poems to whatever day and we'll never know the difference. Heck, that's what I do! I'm two poems behind at the moment due to those many other February commitments and the sinking depression that all this snow has wrought, and have no fear that I yet will finish.

If you're struggling at all, I recommend a brief dance party, solo style. I lean heavily on singing old Stevie Wonder in the car or dancing to The Jackson Five (particularly I Want You Back) all alone in the late night in my living room. Even if it doesn't make the words come, it gets the blood pumping and casts a smile upon my face. There is nothing quite so good as sheer joy for no reason at all. Except maybe love and they may be one and the same. Both are also excellent subject matter for poetic endeavor.

So I encourage you, dear friend, dear poet, to dance! To shake your ass and get yourself in gear, out of these dreary winter blues, then with smiles and new commitment, write. Write with fervor and hope and triumph. Cast aside doubt and fear by writing poetry!!! Write yourself through Week Two. Do it. Do it now.

Day 8 - anna kiss

love is permission
to focus intently
to heap adoration
and attention
and praise.

love is an allowance.

over time,
we tire of finding
new expressions,
either seek out
other outlets
or create tensions
the walls between us growing
and lifting
but briefly

all else is only movement
through and around objects
collecting, ordering,
and no stars fill our eyes
no flutters come.

the winter of our ways
is as if organizing snow
seeking and dividing momentum
by moments,
caught in the teeth
of a promise.


Ice frozen memories drip from their isolated sanctuaries
All those nights, I walked alone
Without you to hold my hand
Or the comfort of a friend
Padding on streets of crystal-flaked concrete
With night's blanket draping over my starving, cold body
All the windows were black
And the silence was taunting
So pausing was then futile with the looming, blazing cloud of death
Following in my footsteps
The pain took parts of my mind and then dashed away
(That thief)
And half of my past is buried within its secret chambers
No one opened a door for me
No one knew how much I was in need
You slept peacefully as I froze outside your window
Goodnight, my sweet.

Sunday, February 8, 2009


Morning sheds its glorious light
Sunbeams dancing through the clouds
Breath of fresh air
Sparkling in the atmosphere
Singing birds and laughing leaves
Slowly tumbling to the ground

Good Morning Mother
Singing goddess
Thank you for this blessed day
Touch the sky for me today

The earth is in all her majestic spelendour
A day of life has spawned
Windy breezes through the grasses
Flowers bend to greet the dawn
The roses lift their weary heads
And life begins again

Good Morning Mother
Singing goddess
Wrapped in robes of light
Touch the sky for me today

#8 Mary 2009

Not Yet

Walking toward the door
I heard you call my name
But it was all in my head
Like a river pulling me along
A struggle to keep steady
Fearing the fall overboard
Then I go head first
Into the churning water
It’s supposed to be calming
Soothing in its own familiar way
Crying into the wind
It’s not the end

Plight of the Poet

I have no excuses today
no one to blame for my
mind that has wandered off
to watch the squirrels
leap from Ginko tree
to railing to snow-drifted
deck furniture
delirious with joy at the
golden kernels of treasure
revealed as the snow melts

You think it is so easy
so decadently self-indulgent
to put words to the page
and take personal offense
spin rejection
out of what you don't understand

I say I don't know where
it begins, how the first
line is formed, what
moment has offered itself up
as fodder;
the twin babies held over
a baptismal font,
the liver chestnut mare
crossing the pasture of
melting snow in sun,
the fat full moon hanging
heavy over the filigree of naked trees

we place so much heart and soul
in our need
to matter
to say something profound
or memorable
or brilliantly
all too often lost
on the journey from
head to hand

and still we return to this
private hell
we are such junkies
such masochists
such crazies
the plight of the poet
the exquisite
pleasure in the pain.


Saturday, February 7, 2009


It was all a dream, and a dream you are
A falling wish upon a star
My dreams could take me far and wide
And save me from the world outside
But dreams can only fade away
And be forgotten in the day
And though I may have been unsure
It was all a dream, and a dream you were.

#7 Mary 2009

Playing On And On

Inspired by the ground
Coveting its words
While silence prays
In the darkness

Cold spirited wind
Seeks comfort in my grasp
Love cries out
Alone once again

#7 - anna kiss

The Life Sped-up

i am finally approaching
the peak:
the massive sum
of all my days.

it holds no answers.
not even conclusions.

Calling From Burbank in the Rain

at midnight, my son calls from Burbank
standing outside a movie studio lot
on a flooded sidewalk
in the rain

tonight, I drove past ghostly trees
standing naked in their yards on the boulevard
waving white limbs
like graceful arms

you stared out the window without seeing
as I pointed them out
said they reminded me of the trees that
threw apples at the Tinman

but your head was already south
in a palm tree with coconuts
or aboard a yacht out to sea
the wizard

all I want is to hold on tight
to what i love
to whom I love
to this moment before it passes

upstairs I hear you clear your throat
having decided to wait up for me
while i linger with the blank page
wondering if and when i will see m y son again

hearing his words
in the rain
"anything is possible"


Friday, February 6, 2009


Poetry whispers
In my silent mind again
All because of you

My breasts weep golden
Tears of milk for only you
In silent homage

I am humbled in
Honor and awe in the
Gift of motherhood

#6 Mary 2009

Simple Lullaby

Sweet sunshine dances on the snow
Surrounding me in a glittering light
Luxurious laments are all I know
Living with all my might

A sea of sin and grace
Swallows me in its tide
Love decides to race
Laughing while I hide

Silliness invades my mind
Singing through the test
Languishes behind
Lingering while I rest

#6 - anna kiss

Found Poetry #1: Children in Coffee Shops

my friend
being sick.
you know
I had the hiccups
a few days ago?

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Day 5 - anna kiss

this life like a loop:
over and over
built upon building,
its constant and necessary upkeep
to protect all that is here from the fray
held between these fingertips
this subtle decaying of
flesh become dust
the falling of fuzz from
sweater to floor and its
movement to and fro
across carpet like continents
forth and back again
the skipping of records
the revolutions of minutes
the arch of my storyline
remains unattractive
in its commonness
in this compellingly normal
and unrepentant

we carry each other like
lists across calendars,
uncoiling snakes of that yet to do
that not quite done
and the ticking off of
objectives is the only measurement we have
of the life lived,
well or no.

Thursday Night Nowhere Poem

don't bother to knock
or try the lock
i don't hear you
i don't answer

i rub my eyes like a child
too tired to know
or say so and then
the head to the ground

you spin my words
you make them into something
new, or foreign
something that scares me

i try to make up for lost time
leave you notes
quiet manipulations

but we pass each other
without touching
even when the walls
come marching in.



Were the one
You knew
what I wanted
You gave me
You let me
Start over

Here I come begging
With sick poison dripping
With wrought desperation
I cry out for grace

Doesn't love me
He scoffs
At my weakness
He knows
I'm imperfect
He hates me
I know it

And here I lie writhing
In wretched self-absorption
I ask for your favor
In stale futility

I am
No believer
I lost
My divinity
Is sacred
I have become broken

The child, she loves you
She trusts your protection
She waits for your homecoming
She never forgets.

Redeem me!
I cling to your
Waist skirt
In hopes
I can be
Worthy of love.

#5 Mary 2009

Certainty Lost

Years float by forgotten
Pushed behind my mind
A thousand voices
Pummeling me into reality
Dreaming of truth
Searching in vain
Obsession returns
Invading every thought
Vicious cycle so familiar
Entangled emotions
Clouded web of insanity
Welcomes me home

Wednesday, February 4, 2009


Sing with me now once again that precious lullaby
That held the realms of hell away and let my life float by
The source of nature, held afar, kept at a safe arm's length
The sweet, lost little melody that once did give us strength
Its notes flew over little chords, a musical embrace
That desperate tune of memory and pain we had to face
A trinket of our past, a song, that echoes in my mind
A tune of hope and prayers for all that would happen in time
The blessed little harmony kept me awake at night
It haunted me throughout the day, it held onto me tight
So sing with me again one time the song that we both know;
The precious little lullaby that helped us once to grow.

Day Four - anna kiss

the forward surge

all the good thoughts were
taken by morning:
the sluggish waking
of this reluctant citizen
motivated equally by
a lifelong cultivation
of puritan work ethic
and a taste for anarcho-stylings
so that what needs to be done
and what should be done
are drawn in stark contrast.

it is troublesome for the mind
to reconcile -
the warped imagery of
examining both
what is close up
and what is far away,
the macro
and the micro,
the acute
and the general,
and neither wins out
no call is made,
only the stomach grinds
with such confusion
the seas churn
and crash
no stillness.
no silence.
just the pounding headache
rising mountainous
between Should and Must,
Right and Worthy.

the economics of Doing
become complicated by
need and desire.
the line between grows indistinct
under this desert of snow,
this lengthening winter,
this growing sorrow
made of deepening poverty,
long darknesses,
no net joined of long arms in stretched embrace,
just two legs cast a'striding
all day, everyday.

how much can one ask of one's hands?
how much work must be wrought by the hands
before the heart wears out?

#4 Mary 2009

Sounds Sing Out Simply

Flowing from my fingers
Words written in a whisper
Clattering keys all a clutter
Poems prevailing without promise
Toward tomorrow for today
Inquisitively ignorant about infinity
Beyond belief that binds
My mind through magnificence
Ending eventually with effort

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Day Three - anna kiss

antonyms for progress

the rigors of slow regrowth
pressing keys forward
with the momentum
of the hollow vacuum of space
its reach
painfully small
insurmountably obsolete
nothingness divided by reality
and kept empty
by bad habits
and bad dreams

should time decide
it is not for me
to go on clenching fists
in and out
the thrum of nerves
may unknit me
may conclude
with the numbness
already writ.

Airport Poem

the cabbie says he knows
what to do

we watch cars careen

twenty minutes flat

the flights' cancelled
and I detect a smile

next flight

delay the day

if you can

but make sense of the

this is the time
this is the pause

think what you'll say

think what you'll do

write it down

we all move too fast
for our own good.


#3 Mary 2009

Overloaded To Do List

Stress and confusion make my head ache
Hoping for better days to come
Dreams and wants add anticipation
Screaming into the night
Noisy thoughts crush my spirit
Spiraling toward tomorrow
Rage fills my soul
Until sleep eases my mind


Lay me out upon the tomb -
let you know that I will see you soon.
Press my ear against the ground -
let you know that I'll see you around.
Touch my body to the stone -
and I can recall your dying moan.
Let my soul fly with the wind -
let the gods above know I have sinned.

Climb up to the mountaintop -
make the world that spins around us stop.
Crawl down to the dusty bin -
let the black musk earth swallow me in.

I'm alone and I am free -
this is just what I was meant to be.
Time around me never stops -
as I stand high on the mountaintop.
Ne'er again to touch the ground -
as my ashes fly around the town.
I've left my mark upon the hill -
And my soul is free and is there still.

Monday, February 2, 2009

#2 Mary 2009

Groundhog Day

There once was a groundhog named Phil
Everyone watched for a thrill
He saw his own shadow
Ran in from the cold snow
Leaving us six more weeks to kill

Spring Preview

(New York)

I don't do well writing in the middle
of conversation
I said to the man in the grey scarf
his eyes said
in this city
get used to it

the sun comes thru glass
behind me
warming me till I sweat

today i learned the meaning of Indie rock
and Wi-Fi coffee houses
without poets
or philosophers

just this pretty city picture
of exposed brick
exposed pipes
exposed apples and croissants

a sound track of covers by these
"indie rockers"
drowns out any
clear thought
till I wish they'd sleep

I become the recorder of a world
that goes by like a
magazine read on
an airplane

pretty pictures
technicolor vision
beside my lipstick stained
coffee cup
while somewhere a groundhog
considers opening his eyes
to the possibility of spring.



Sweet Sunshine Boy
With golden hair
The brightest rays
Come sparkling down
A bubble laugh
Erupts like glitter
Upon my dusty floor.

Sweet Sunshine Boy
Light up the room;
A living, breathing
Treasure born –
Your radiant smile
Embraced by starlight -
Shine on forevermore.

Day Two - anna kiss

Vain Daydream

and in mirrors
and on reflective surfaces
like faces of those I've known forever,
there appears starlight
shining in sudden halo bursts,
and hands madly clapping
and teeth a'gleaming
lips peeled back to their limits
and overwhelming awe
and rapturous, thunderous admiration
washes over me like so much water...

From Rachel

The Near Miss of Anna Kiss

I almost met you
tonight at the water park
but you did not come

-From Rachel of Almost Always Hungry... presumably on my absence from the Unschooling Conference.

Sunday, February 1, 2009


Music once heard
Are thoughts once said
Is an empty darkness
In my head

Day One - anna kiss

The Road Home

snow blankets Gandhi's head and shoulders
in his iron-clad march
through Roosevelt Park,

blue and red lights of police
picking up a stolen vehicle
bounce wildly silent
off the stone bridges and various bronzed busts,

and long-bare branches begin to loosen
as the temperature warms slightly,
introducing a brief respite in winter's onslaught.

we make our way along the curving road
our eyes tired and our throats aching
with too much talking
and too many awake hours

the journey is but a pause from week end
to week beginning

our already too-tired hearts
will once again weary themselves
under the burden of daily chores
and daily struggles

the making of bread, beds, dreams,
and the dismantling of sibling drama

the boys restless, in need of space
for snowmen and icicle collecting
to break this hibernatory ritual

these weeks trapped under snow
and beneath the frigid moods
of parents caught in the snare
of work and life and the pressing ever on,

to home and back again,
from the grown-up escape
of long nights of
talking, drinking, talking.

and this steady unraveling of time,
this road passing February
out from under us.

New York, New York, New York


I want to scream I'm here
I want to run up to strangers
strangers in coats
strangers all alone
strangers in groups
strangers with dogs
strangers with children

I want to run up to the couple across
the room and interrupt their
making-out session
say I have arrived!
I am alive!
I can breathe again

(instead I wait to order coffee)

this server is chic in her black-night
native New Yorker vision
she doesn't know what she's got
she moves to this rhythm
she possesses this energy
without effort, without recognition
she is so cavalier
throws it over a chair
like one too many furs

ahh, how she lives my fantasy
without the relish I would
without letting it linger
on her tongue
like i would,
without pulling it up to her chin
and rocking
and rocking
and rocking

I have arrived
I am here - here - here
and for this moment
I pull on New York
like skin.


And we're off!

Welcome one and all to February 1st. If you're not watching The Super Bowl, I assume you're all busy writing poetry. As well you should. And I hope you're all off to magical starts, full of eloquence and ease as you capture your experience or turn a phrase to consider sweaty men tossing about pigskins.

One participant
this year has announced that all her work will be through Twitter, thus limiting her poems to 140 characters. This may turn out to be a radical use of technology to create new trends in poetry. We could do whole collections of Twitter art, and I'm sure before long coffee table books will come out doing just that. So you go, girl. Do it.

And thus I extend the same phrase to all of those participating. Go! Let your fingers run across pages and keyboards and QWERTY-equipped cell phones! Let the words and phrases drip slowly and quickly and haphazardly from your brain and long-fingered hands! Be rash and bold and wild! Be onomatopoeic! Write poetry and let poetry write you!!!

#1 Mary 2009


dancing in the wind
silhouetted by the moon
shining in my eyes