funniest thing

A couple weeks ago, I made up with Momma. We talked, she cried; then said how very much she loved and missed me.

Haven't heard from her since.

wisdom

The spirit has escaped
to a dimly lit smoky cage.
Eye liner running,
she is huddled in a booth
with a clinking drink
and a desperately burning cigarette.

She can be found
in far off desert
crawling atop miles around sand
dark sky and stars lovingly
lighting her way.

Her fingers are
clawing, clinging
to mossy forest floor
as silent trees soak in her
cries and she collapses against an oak.
Her tears are absorbed by earth bark
and settle for the night.

Picture her
standing on busy city block
staring straight and true.
Her blues are red
and she has been delivered
to your doorstep.

far away thoughts of a California dreamer

Every word
I cling

Every imagined touch
I shiver

Every time I falter
my fingers reach
for yours.

Every kiss I send to the stars
Every tear I savor
Every nerve ending enticed
Every drink of wine
Every cigarette smoked
Every scintillation of hope
Every bite of food I can’t swallow
Every tortured breath
Every wish for ocean air abandon

Every forever thought
and dream

You are present
raw and real.

I want your words hot in my ears
I want them rushed and deliberate
with bright eyes in mine
as you say them for all to hear.

Inhale the dark,
see me here,
feel that I crave and hurt.

This is all I can give you right now.

so

So?
It hurts.
So what?

I could take this topsy turvy heart
and flick it in the gutter for you
if it would make it easier.
You know, do it myself.

I want to be easy.

So,
what about that other girl?
Yeah, she was pretty salacious
and hey,
I'm taken anyway.

So,
these words shouldn't be so pained.
It must be that knight on a white horse
thing you told me about.

So,
let me make a heaping breakfast
complete with spicy bloody mary
and
erode
last
night
away.

Alone on a Saturday night.

Doesn't that title sound like sadness? The man's band is playing a gig tonight and I decided not to go. I turned down three other invites to do various Saturday night type things because I wanted to spend the evening home alone. I picked up some greek food, put on my snugglies and settled down to read.

I can't concentrate. My brain is not working, so I decide to turn on the television. Ugh, I can't even focus on that.

My dear friend Drake is awaiting a response to not one, but TWO long and past baring emails he sent to me...but I can't muster up the words and I'm incapable of matching or even thinking about what he has told me. I can think about it, but I just don't know what to say. It's not about him of course, it's me.

So where is this great mind wandering to? Where has she gone?

Today, I went to lunch and the restaurant was next to a cat rescue. I gingerly entered this cat refuge and suddenly found myself in this huge room with probably 30 felines wandering about. All of them wanting love and all of them needing homes. (One day, I will be a crazy cat lady.)

I sit amongst all these felines and they're playing with me and I'm giving them love when this tiny blur of black and white pounces into my lap and curls there like he belongs. I look down and there is this darling little face looking up at me and I notice immediately he only has one eye...but I can feel his strong purr against my belly and damn it, I want to bring this cat home.

I talked to the people who worked there, I was ready - this little angel boy was coming home with me. Then The Man stepped in, "We need to think about this...yada yada...."....and I had to go home, Sherman-less. (Yes, the kittens name is Sherman.) Don't get me wrong, that was probably the responsible thing to do and all.

Tonight, all I can think about is that damn cat. I want him to live in my house. One step closer to becoming crazy cat lady? I think so.

16

So tonight, I was cleaning out the garage and found this little gem. I wrote this when I was 16. Get that? 16! Yikes, that was 14 years ago.

It is amusing, sorta cute, and makes absolutely no sense. Go figure.

I'm everything but afraid
Crawling through irresistable darkness
Jesus right behind me
You're so convenient
And my magic finger
That murder song on the radio
Your vision, not mine
The next time around
You'll be somewhere else
Packing my pink bubble gum
Popping my bubbles
Pinching my seat
Who could be happier?

on my watch

I've earned my dark nights
with quiet whirring of metal fan blades
and acrid smoke in the air.

Sitting in this chair and staring
at window fading sky is just
where a bad girl belongs.

Ticking of clocks and
clangs of far off bells
tell hours passing that I'm still
here on my throne.

Barely blinking
softly registering wheels that
crunch by on hot asphalt.

This is where I deserve to be
unmoving, untouched and unkempt.

Lights are behind these blues
and they're flashing and waiting
composing a mind patterned landing strip
for you to aim for.

It's night and I'm still here.
Yes, even at night I'm still

here.

watching

The days of fledgling thoughts
stopped by mental droughts,
the clinking of dinner glasses
and the imperceptible gleam of interest
in your eyes.

A post meal,
solitary forest walk confesses
the complexity of your desire
to know more and see everything.

I'm on the edge of that stream
(yes, this way)
watching you crush fallen
red hued leaves.

Twilight calmly steals my view.

The collapse stops my heart.

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



I know I haven't been writing much lately. Mentally, I've been in a bit of a slump. Seems the days are getting shorter and the breeze blows in just as the sun sets. The changing of seasons is almost imperceptible in this neck of the woods, but I feel it coming. Soon I'll be crunching my own dry red leaves underfoot and my soft soft sweaters will emerge from their bin under the bed....Autumn means weekend trips to Apple Hill, wine tasting in the foothills and spooky preparations to frighten munchkins who show up at my doorstep on All Hallows Eve.

piano player

I feel like
I should be able to play the piano.
My fingers hover over the keys
as if they know what to do.
Yet when they pound them
in the order brain tells them to,
nothing is produced
but a senseless cacophony.