thank god for the gift of being knocked down

yes yes

take away all that is false by any means needed

do i mean it?

thank you heinous wolf for exposing the eye (i) who could be sucked into flattery

to stray into flowers and to tell the location of  grandmother’s house

i who could be coaxed

i dancing in a made up arena of a sharp-toothed, hungry ghost’s creation

i who became addicted to meet ups and texts and emails (did he call?)

instead of following her inner knowing.

it wasn’t for long and now it is gracefully over.

when the body could no longer abide ,

the ugly truth of predation was revealed.

I was a meal –

my flesh gone and bones licked clean

discarded on a pile of bones,

drying in the sun.

this will not be my last dance with soulessness;

many are choosing such a thing,

and they are attracted to the growing light of one who is slowing gaining flame.

the outcome is that I am unfixable

and I can be that completely-

a messy pile of no longer clinging bones

true beauty

how wonderful it is to exist

in the contrasting plane.

i, this animal,

awakened by the carnivorous hunger of another.

I allow

and howl no more.



entering the pool

I am swimming laps.

Going under water with my full face is very hard.  I fight panic.

I blow a constant stream of bubbles out of my nose. I am more buoyant than a cork,

and I feel I might drown.  I am healing a wound inflicted 15 years ago, almost 16.  Being underwater on some level is drowning  and then dying.  My mind and body are racing against time.  I am contemplating going out.  Leaving here.   I am waiting for the survival instinct the will to survive to kick in – what if it does not.  My mind is full of people in the tubule of an airplane spiraling to the ground.  I am in the world trade towers on 911, hanging out the window.  I am being eaten by a shark, I am grasping for my last breath – struggle, need, fear.

15 years ago, close to 16 now, I was intimated after the birth of eden.  I was bleeding and hovering between life and death.  The doctor went home after 7 hours of surgery to save my life, leaving me on the machine that does the breathing for you – problem is – I didn’t stay unconscious, so I came to every few minutes for hours fighting with the breathing machine – I couldn’t stop my own instinct to breath and it had its own rhythm for my breaths, so what it felt like was being held under water for hours.  I would grab the nurses hands arms and beg her to take it off, take it off of me and she could not without a doctors orders and he was at home in bed.  Post dramatic stress disorder, acting out in the pool.  Such a small internal struggle.  I am fighting winning for myself.  I can swim these laps – calmly, up and back, not graceful, not proficient, just there doing it.  I swim in the lane next to the walking lane, near the screaming children in case I need to be rescued.  There was an older lady on some sort of floating chair who went up and back very near to me yesterday – her head above the water the whole time.  She entertained herself by whistling.  At one point I think she was whistling You Can’t Always Get What You Want, by the stones.  That struck me as very funny.  She also talked to herself.  I could hear her as my head went bobbing in and out the whole way.



what scares me?

what scares me?

being stabbed repeatedly, desperation in my daughters, head lice, homelessness, toothpicks in eyeballs, slow decapitation, water boarding, drowning, being trapped in a tight space, gas chambers, being skinned alive, a dog ripping me to shreds, intestinal worms, falling from the sky, being burned alive, I used to fear social rejection but I am working through this.  the rest still makes me shiver – is this because I believe I am only this body.  is this the fear simply the fear of pain?  do I think that god will swoop in in my anguish and steal my soul away?  there was a boy at my daughter’s school who set himself on fire by dousing himself with an accelerant – chloe saw him running to the school on fire – she said her brain would not allow her mind to take it in.  what she saw she could not say – his death is anguishing.

the horrible things that have occurred in my life were somehow bearable at the time – surreal and yanking in that the only way through was to be present and keep on through pain through confusion through immense unknowing.  some other smaller pains have felt unbearable and I thrashed then instead of through the perceived bigger things.  The death of my brother felt like a play I was watching and  my suffering was 4 or 5 feet from my actual body.  Yet, when the children got head lice again during the dissolution of my marriage, I wondered if I could survive – I truly felt I couldn’t go on – so overwhelmed i was with the nastiness, the difficulty, the struggle, the futility of the struggle, the petty wrestling with long hair and tools and eyes that could no longer see that well all through the cramped space on the boat, the struggle to do laundry and cooking and life – and the resentment of my husband who was fading away into a caricature of his former self full of ego,  self righteous over global warming and not his own absence, preaching about bike riding, urban living, small footprints, distancing himself through absence and blame.  His own life became someone else’s problem.

when my uterus ruptured and I had to try to put myself back together at the same time a tiny newborn baby needed me along with her freaked out 3 year old sister.   that was tough.  I knew it at the time.  my body had torn from cervix to anus, the doctors took 3 separate surgeries to put it back together…my body felt like a truck had run it over – the blood that flowed through my body was not my own, they had shunted me full of 19 pints of blood and 9 more for clotting from the lives of others  to stop bleeding – i think i came back into the body altered.  i left part of me somewhere else, and i have been sleepwalking ever since.  i do not know the purpose of suffering.  i do not know why i came back.  my daughter has been in NYC over a week with her cousin.  she does not wish to come home…who can blame her?  she is where she longs to be.  I cannot give her her hearts desire – that is fine – she can work toward what she wants in her own life, but will she be insufferable when she returns?  oh yes.  I don’t just fear it, I’m pretty sure.  deep south slow is nothing next to the city.  the solidity of home and simplicity is a straight jacket for the jet setting dreams of her – so understandable, in this time in this realm.

I watch my horoscope on youtube for the year of 2013 – I am supposed to be coming out of these dark times.  My own personal Kali Yuga.  Do not pity the pifitul me – I have it so much better than most in the world – don’t we americans have it so easy?  i think that never again will i diminish the gift of a roof, a bed, freedom, breath, air, options, refrigerator, washer dryer, sunshine, are you kidding me – the life of a queen.  absolutely.  a car that works.  a market and money to buy.  shoes, haircuts.  every thing a gift that can be ignored, assumed.  no longer an ass, on most days.


red bastard

i went to see a show.  this guy.

seems like an obnoxious sort of fellow.  some laughs.

what happened there blew me away

those happenings of the 60’s – the shows to pull you out of your comfort complacency, decency respectability – and the performer who asks this of his audience does not stand behind the shield of humor of wit of sarcasm only the nakedness and honesty he demands of his audience is returned in spades.

we were not allowed to stay in our seats we were not allowed to not participate we were not allowed to bullshit we were not allowed to get angry for the face of the whipper our torture was also full of charm love vulnerability honesty that can be found ironically behind a mask and a costume 0 ooooooo   eventually stripped away – to bare naked – and not only that – genitalia discussed examined stretched.  comfort in the skin you are in – for surely we are only that and not only that – but creating a material thing here to occupy this atmosphere –  bones sinew blood and skin – with lungs heart spleen parts pumping within- and gumby wired movable parts without, penis breasts elbows grins

we crave public stripping

we crave bullshit bombs going off in all our venues

we crave long languid silences with the roaming humans on the range

here is my writing from yesterday afternoon:

in 5 minutes we will drive downtown under overcast skies.

melancholy has descended on my mood.

i long for something – and i want to be past longing.  i desire.  i ache.  i know not how to be.

a drop of a melancholia inherited in a dreary rainy drip.

where is the balance between flowing as you feel and escape.  where does copping out begin o…

Then last night I forced myself out of the house at 9:45pm…sleepy, and I go to the show by myself…

and I am transformed.  Suddenly I think that I can see stripping and standing naked or approaching someone with the same emotional nudity is absolutely a valid choice in each moment – every moment can be anything.  I can meditate on my couch for 30 minutes, visit another planet, I can rise up to the ceiling and look down at all the clutter.

Why do dark grey moods settle in at all?  When they do, why is it so hard to remember that they pass?  Why do we seek approval connection validation to be heard?  what misery!  i read Jane Eyre every so often, I don’t know why, but in part to remember how so many people in human bodies have experienced isolation hour by hour and weeks upon weeks looking out windows walking across moors putting up with making do surviving the only way they can eating boring food only speaking expected words dying young without experiences I am wondering to myself if my brother died a virgin at 17.  dear soul, what pleasure did he know by that age?  matters not.  he may be walking the clouds, he may be back in another body and fairly old by now.  i know nothing – and feel nothing but a fuzzy memory like a movie I once saw – i wouldn’t know him in his own old body let alone another.  not a story clung to…now I must go do chores and duties – perhaps without clothes on – because all are gone from this house until late tonight – I am alone and I am the master of this house and my bones!

Danse Russe


If I when my wife is sleeping
and the baby and Kathleen
are sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc
in silken mists
above shining trees,—
if I in my north room
dance naked, grotesquely
before my mirror
waving my shirt round my head
and singing softly to myself:
“I am lonely, lonely.
I was born to be lonely,
I am best so!”
If I admire my arms, my face,
my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
against the yellow drawn shades,—
Who shall say I am not
the happy genius of my household?

a robe and a cave

I go to my favorite Writer for inspiration, and I forget that I am logged on here.   to click like in effect links a person to this site, which is not for any eyes.  no mistakes in this universe.  I must be longing for some eyes to see such drivel.  Oye.

God, who cares.  Why do we even wear clothes?  I will tell you anything you want to know.  Who wants to know?  NO ONE.  I will show you anything you want to see.  Who wants to see?  NO ONE.  There is no show here.

INvisible in the masses, interesting to no one except the banker who flirts with me because he thinks I have money from another bank to transfer – this is not accurate.  I think this is what he thinks.  I feel like a rock star at the bank and I am poor, I am middle aged.  perhaps I do not see myself clearly.  middle aged is not what it used to be.  my kids put me in pencil jeans, my hair is that of a young girl.  I am timeless.

I can smell ego like dirty socks.  i sit at a table of comedians last night, after their big show, and I am so bored.  I am talking and looking into eyes of men and boys who are buried beneath layers of boring, of look at me, I’m funny,   Invisibility gives me such a seat for observation.  humans.  how did i fall out of my castle in land in the land of  wandering beasts.  i will not keep lowering myself to be in the company of humans.

the heart longs, the will of the belly brings into being my nightmares, i do not know the difference of dream and awake. I cannot tell one day from the next, our sky clouds over, thunder shakes so far in the distance it sounds like it rises up fromm the ground, the desparation of mama’s in lowrent apartments so close I can hear her rage being rained down on her baby and  smell the shitty dipper that she lobs over the fence and into my yard.  My first instinct is to pick it up with a stick and lob it back over her way.  I do not even know what will happpen in this world.

My parents should be shell shocked.  They know a world of golf, and parties, bridge, and church.  They have beliefs and big screens and thousands of square feet and perceived challenges with who to include in which gathering.  Who do they blame for the utter fall of the next generation?  They were stuck with a drug addict, a dead tennis hero son, and a divorced daughter living beyond her means with no luxury to show for it.  How did their world betray them?  How do they not see it still?

I am alone, the ears are squelling at such a high pitch from all the aspirin it takes to get through the day.  I steal into my daughters room to drink from the full length mirror.  My body is so strong and beautiful and unseen and unused – will this always be so?  If this is so, then I want the comfort of a cave, a robe and a shaved head.


jumping into the fire

the difference the mind can make

one day I am falling down a hole of thoughts that seem real, and the next…back on solid ground – though a bit afraid to take the next step for fear of stepping down another hole, or stepping on a rabbit trap that will snap and clamp down on my leg.

I met a psychiatrist yesterday – a mother of a son at my daughters school  we sat on a blanket together outside the semicircle of teenagers.  her psychiatric specialty is substance abuse.  she told me about a concept called minimizing harm.  with such a low total cure rate, sometimes what is possible is the minimization of harm.  say someone won’t stop using, but perhaps she may grow to stop stealing to support her addiction.  Perhaps one wont’ stop using, but she can manage to hold down a job and support herself.  This is something.

I want full liberation from the special self.  is the path of minimal harm a tract?  Or is the complete shedding the only way.  the mind goes about its tricks so fiercely as it starts feeling threatened.

yesterday one thought led to another to another, the first one incorrect and then everything that followed accelerated the incorrect thought into hyper drive causing ripples into the imagined atmosphere – even trying to pull others into its off center gravity.  

luckily the soul I had the thought about and the soul to whom I reached out were able to light a match in the darkness and the pretend world of lack of shame of fear was driven out.  and the match light grew into an inferno of remembrance and I lost a life or two in the flames.

but at the time,  could not seem to correct it on my own.  sitting still.  learning.

what more is there to do?



mind trap

neutral with a hint of down.

my mood.

the day is sunny, I’ve been granted the space I’ve longed for for forever – here it is – and I have let a small incident ruin my mood.

But I think this day is pointing to something larger.

Where there is diappointment and shame in me for this miscommunication – I sense an attachment.

The thoughts have  spiralled down and suddenly I find my mind plotting all sorts of retreat.  I am composing several emails simultaneously in my head to tell my friend I am on retreat – I am learning how to go it alone.  I am banishing myself.  I am sending myself away before they ever have a chance to.  I am rejecting before they can.

I do need to learn to be alone.

Perhaps the incident was minor, but today it feels large.  I believe that I have overstepped my friend’s husband’s boundaries – he is extremely private – and I sent a chatty and overly familiar email to him.  And now I am feeling foolish – and chagrined – and wishing I could disappear – fade away as someone who has never existed.

You are rolling your eyes – imaginary person who will never stumble here.  This misstep sounds overblown to you.

It doesn’t seem so today.

It feels permently isolating.

So, I wonder if I will send these emails – will I follow through – is this a mind trick – or a good thing?

Is isolation good – do some of us need to be banished?  Why does it seem like there are so many oafish people in the world who never have self doubt and some of us – who are pretty kind hearted – swim in an atmosphere of shame?

I am going to sweat – carrying boxes to the car for goodwill – I am going to take a shower and go to see a play by myself with my head held up.  I deserve to breath air.  I can pay for and earn a seat.  I am BANISHED no more ! 🙂