Eternity

Mother
I will always
Be able to draw up
Buckets upon buckets
Of salty water
From the well
Of pain
From losing you.

No, I don’t dare....

I don't dare think about how nice it would be to have my mom standing next to me when Jack gets out of school and how delighted she'd be at how funny and handsome he is...

I don't dare even imagine my mom coming to stay with us in the improvised guest room in the attic where I'd put fresh flowers in a vase for her, pictures of us all together laughing, laying out clean towels and a little chocolates for her to enjoy.

I don't dare imagine her glee while perusing gifts for her grandchildren and then having lunch with me and giggling over something inane or puzzling while we picked at each other's food.

I don't dare imagine what life would be like if she were in my life today and tomorrow because it's never going to be that way but sometimes, when I'm still in my bathrobe and have wet hair, I lie under my covers for warmth and the wishes creep in anyway.

There I am, curled up next to my purring cat, looking into her deep eyes and watching myself weep.

Segovia

On the cobbled streets of Segovia
Ancient arches connect us
To courtyards and bread
From red potted flowers
To thick, frothy chocolate leche
Fried mushrooms and dreams.

Beyond I see the aqueduct
Roma reaching into our time
Held together by keystones
High over this storied city.

Teens in scarves smoking hashish
Scarved grandmas with thick ankles
Pushing carts full of food
Into the evening sun.

Red

Predatory animals
Have no prejudice
That guy's not white
That girl's not black
Diane, she's not....yellow.

Inside, all those people
They're red
And delicious.

Hush, Hush

Oooh baby,
Hush, hush.
Hear a river swoosh.
See the branch sway.
Marvel at the bird in flight.
Be in awe.
Plant your hopes.
Water the future.
It's gonna be okay, baby.
The world is in you.
The world IS you.

There is Hope Yet

My darling, do not fret.
I know you cry in the night.
I know you cry in the day too.
You feel so alone, even so loved as you are.
There is hope for you, yet.
Even now, it grows in the dark soil.
You cannot see it but the sprout reaches upward.
Despite any condition, hope grows.
If you are still, you can hear its song.
You can feel its dance in your heart.
Around sorrow, hope dances with arms outward.
You see, dear, you deserve happiness.
Hope knows what is best.
Hope will never let you down.
Life is not out to get you though it seems this way.
Life is a partner of hope.
I know it hurts to grow.
Hope knows this too.
Hope knows your pain.
Hope understands.
This is why hope loves you so.
Will you love hope back?
Will you water your hope?

Jack says...

"Mommy, you're not a little girl any more. I need to give you some energy to make you little again so you can do more stuff at the playground. Maybe we can buy energy at the store to make you little so we can play little kid stuff together. You need a lot of energy to get small again."

----

"Mommy, mosquitos like you. You are a sweet girl and I am a sweet boy. Maybe we should get yucky so they stay away from our blood."

----

"Mommy, when I was in your uterus, I was dreaming in there."

----

"When I was a baby, I didn't like barfing my milk. It made me stinky."

----

"Before we lived in a house, we lived in an apartment. We paid forty four dollars....(hands up and waving)...FORTY FOUR DOLLARS!!!"

Streets of an Old Town

I go back unwillingly
To the streets of an old town
Dilapitated buildings
More abandoned than inhabited
The cobblestones in disarray
Long tufts of languishing grass
Struggling for sustenance
Old memories hang in the air
Like stale cooked fish and onions
The faces are long and expectation gone
So many have died from foggy rocks
Haggling gone wrong ending in blood spatter
Thieving and lying more prevalent
Than truth, honesty and happiness.

I go home to the streets of an old town
No longer employing thousands
To haul coal on the rail lines
The wetlands being shaved down
For new strip mall next to strip mall
To employ the customers
Who employ other customers
All going to the same stores and restaurants
Of different names.

On the streets of this old town
My young memories walk to school
And in my nightmares I cannot find it
I walk more in the streets of this old town
Looking for my future self
Begging her not to bring me back here
But she still does.

Lady in a Fruit Dress

I walked into the office
And this woman
With little fruits
All over her dress
Was going through
My desk drawers
With this smirk
Of victory.

She told me
I was no longer needed
At the magazine
My writing was profane
Encouraged drug use
Promiscuity
I told her
That was not true
I operate on honesty
I promote life and living
The woman in the fruit dress
Dusted her hands off
Put them onto her hips
Told me to collect
My things
And to never come back.

Safe is Nowhere

Don't go outside
You might get strangled
A car may crush you
You could trip
Crack your cranium
Bleed your brain out
Someone else
May slip on it
Crack their cranium too
This whole conga line
Of brains of death
Go back inside
Hide under the blanket
The monster under the bed
Might just come topside
Smothering you
The wet roofing
Will collapse
Crush your little body
It is of no consequence
You are fearing everything
It's all out to get you
So
You may as well get showered
Put on a nice dress
Brush that tangled mess
Shine up your face
Open the door
Let the sun shine in
Skip down the walk
Pirouette into the day.

All Sides Being Equal

These eyes
These hands
Have seen
Have sifted
A great deal of pain
Just the same
They have seen
They have beheld
Immeasurable beauty
Unexplainable fortunes
Everything evens out.

Stinky

Don't get so self absorbed
That you soak up everything around
That will feed only you.

A sponge in my sink
Once did something like that
Filling itself with stench.

Take Your Women

Take that look of disgust
Off your face
Fuck the dishes
Let them rot
You come home
Plop your ass down
Watch the TV
Peck at the computer
Drink your carbonated piss.

Get a job!
Stay home!
Be independent!
Depend on me!
Go to work!
Make my dinner!
Make us more money!
Where's my laundry?

Hey hon
Did you notice
I did the dishes?
Yea, I did.
Hey man,
I've done the dishes
5 trillion times.
HAVE YOU NOTICED?
No, honey, that one time
You forgot to though
I did.

Take your women
Fall in love with them
Chide them later
For who they are
The one you fell for
So long ago
The very things
Which fascinated you
Make you now
Full of fear
Superiority Rules!

Listen Mr. Cock
You have but the ability
To lift things with
Those biceps I love
To hold onto
When we fuck
BUT
You are no stronger
Than me.

Fairest Maiden

Fair maiden
Chewed her dinner
Rather incompletely
As the toilet revealed
This clear indisputable truth
The next morning.

Dreamlessly

(a poem by Charles Bukowski)

old grey-haired waitresses
in cafes at night
have given it up,
and as i walk down sidewalks of
light and look into windows
of nursing homes
I can see that it is no longer
with them.
I see people sitting on park benches
and i can see by the way they
sit and look
that it is gone.

I see people driving cars
and I see by the way
they drive their cars
that they neither love nor are
loved -
nor do they consider
sex. it is all forgotten
like an old movie.

I see people in department stores and
supermarkets
walking down aisles
buying things
and i can see by the way their clothing
fits them and by the way they walk
and by their faces and their eyes
that they care for nothing
and that nothing cares
for them.

I see a hundred people a day
who have given up
entirely.

if I go to the racetrack
or a sporting event
I can see thousands
that feel for nothing or
no one
and get no feeling
back.

everywhere I see those who
crave nothing but
food, shelter, and
clothing; they concentrate
on that,
dreamlessly

I do not understand why these people do not
vanish
I do not understand why these people do not
expire
why the clouds
do not murder them
or why the dogs
do not murder them
or why the flowers and the children
do not murder them,
I do not understand.

I suppose they are murdered
yet i can't adjust to the
fact of them
because they are so many.

each day,
each night,
there are more of them
in the subways and
in the buildings and
in the parks

they feel no terror
at not loving
or at not
being loved

so many many many
of my fellow

creatures.

"We should get her back."

Conversation with Jack:

"Your mom is dead, Mommy?"

"Yes, Jack. She is still dead."

"Were you in her uterus like I was in your uterus?"

"Yes, Jack. Everyone was in a uterus before they were born."

"Your mom is dead."

"Yes, Jack, she is."

"We should get her back."

"Back from where, honey?"

"Where is she, Mommy?"

"She's buried in Thailand."

"We need to get on a plane and get her."

"We can't, honey. She's dead. Once you're dead, you stay that way. No one can make you alive again."

"I'm sad."

"Me too, honey."

Hen-Boy

Jack comes into the living room uttering his hen song with a tightly wrapped whatever-it-is in one of his old burp cloths from infancy.

"What are you doing with that blanket, Jack?"

"It's not my blankie, Mom. It's my egg."

"Oh, I see."

He places the "egg" carefully upon the couch, gets up and squats onto the egg.

"Bok! Bok! Bok!"

"Now what are you doing, buddy?"

"I'm the hen. I'm warming this egg so my baby comes out."

"Oh, that's really something, honey."

"Keeeerrrrrr ACK!"

He hops off, unwraps a knit bluebird my friend Shannon made (inspired by Bukowski's 'Bluebird' poem) and hugs the bird tightly.

"See my baby chick, Mommy? SEE IT?"

"Yes, honey, it's gorgeous!"

"His name is Stanley."

"What a lovely name!"

One More Day

I belong to a Motherless Daughter group. Today, someone posted the topic 'If you had one more day with your mom' and this was what I wrote:

I would dance with her in the living room to 8 track disco tunes like we did when I was a little girl. We would make peanut butter cookies and I would read her poems I never got to read to her because I wasn't a poet then. I would brush her beautiful, long hair and cut a few long locks to keep with me. I'd look at her hands, which are so much my own. I'd take a million pictures of her, her with me, her with her garden. I'd buy her roses, which she loved and make her favorite dinner. We'd go for a long walk, arm in arm and I'd tell her I love her over and over and over again and hug her so much she might ask me to not hold so tightly. I'd look into her eyes and let her know that I know I was so loved by her and I'd thank her for being her, so funny and sweet and big hearted. And finally, I'd tell her I hope she won't suffer any more like she had in this life. I hope the journey into her next life is filled with peace and light and joy.

Ode to Fever

Oh fever, how I honor thee
Power from within
I am useless to deny
Or medicate away
I can only lie in your wake
As you ravage every cell
And set them afire
With ruthless precision
Re-creating from nothing
Into a more strong something
But not before listlessness
Complete helplessness
Overtakes your subject
The quietude forced upon me
The chill of a heated room
Implores me to find myself
Horizontal and fetal
I must get warm
I must get rest
I must toss
I must turn
I must suffer these hours
In torrid meditation
Until your journey is through
Oh, mighty fever!

Hatchet to the Locks!

Okay, I can tell you this story now because my neighbors are now home.

I will explain.

J&R had to leave town unexpectedly four days ago for a family emergency. They trusted me enough to leave me the keys to their home to care for their Rough Sheltie. This dog, Bailey, is half the size of Lassie. Bailey was never fixed so as a result, even if he is dehydrated will urinate a lot. He practically "owns" a few miles of territory judging by how often he feels the need to mark.

J&R also have a very fat looking fish and several aquatic snails that needed to be fed twice daily. I don't mind doing this because J&R are excellent neighbors who we trust with our home as well. We've traded tools for gardening and returned them in good shape, fought the township together, etc.

Bailey tends to freak as soon as one sneaks toward the door, walks near the door or even straight up says "Dude, see ya later!" He will become a dog one hundred times his size, pummeling the door and barking like his fucking tail is on fire.

The second day I'm in the house, I let him out and he won't go more than 10 feet if you don't come out and yell for him to take a leak and a shit. Then he must first run amok, barking insanely, squeeze a few streams here and there, tear up the grass in the opposite direction of where he landed his marks and tear off into a field. If he jets 40 feet and you are not with him, he comes back. At this point, I must command him to eat. I learned that he will not eat unless you are in the kitchen, the light has to be on. He will take two bites and look at you. He will growl but not angrily. It's the way he "talks". You must tell him to eat again. It's quite tiring and honestly, annoying as hell.

Anyway, I'm sure I have done everything but lo! I must bring in the mail. I stupidly leave the fucking keys on the table. I open the house door and leave it open. I go for the mailbox on the outside of the screen door and here comes Bailey ready to freak the fuck out because he's needy, completely insane or both! Both, really.

BAM!

The main door closes. No big deal right?? Wrong. The fucking door locks automatically!! Oh.My.God! The fucking keys are inside!! Okay. OKAY?!?!?
I forgot to mention I had a fever while this was happening. I immediately start to cry. I go back to my house and call Terry and tell him what has happened. As I am talking/crying/babbling/slobbering I see a suspicious man walking from a vehicle and disappearing across the street near another neighbor's house. Now, we've had skeezahs trying to scheme on us nice folk and coming door to door before for fradulent "unfortunate circumstances" as well as criminal characters using our street as convenient hideaway while on the run from the po (last time was right when I brought my son out to the bus so I'm on edge). I'm delirious with fever too so I call 911. I give the description and in 3 minutes flat (no joke), there's three cops on my street. Insane. Anyway, turns out the guy is visiting a friend. No big deal and I decompress slightly.

As the cops get ready to leave, I run out of the house, asking one of them to get into my neighbor's home. The cop smirks as I tell him the story and proceeds to try every window in J&R's house. Nothing works. He asks if I want him to break the door down (guess things are slow today?). He looks in one window and goes "Aw, I see a fish!" Dork. Anyway, I tell him to never mind, I will call my neighbors and try to get a locksmith.

I call J&R and they call the locksmith and charge it to themselves. The locksmith comes and it's now sleeting and as he is trying to pick the lock, Bailey is slamming himself into the door, barking hysterically and honestly, I really wanted to fucking taze his ass. I'm shivering, sick and this locksmith is swearing under his breath. He tells me the lock is old, and he is going to have to drill it and replace the mechanism. As he's drilling, the dog is still freaking the fuck out, throwing his little body against the door, barking like little hysterical dogs do. The drill breaks and the locksmith yells "FUUUUUUUCK!" and stomps his foot, simultaneously throwing off his raincoat. "WHAT A FUCKING WAY TO START THE DAY! AM I RIIIIIGHT?!!?!?" he bellows to the spitting ice sky.

"Tell me about it," I mumble.

Finally, the door opens. Goodamn dog starts licking the locksmith. He starts licking me. Stupid, funny dog.

I sign papers, get a receipt and the locksmith gives me two keys for the new lock. "Don't forget to separate them!" he tells me.

"Don't worry, I won't." I say.

But I did.

The very next (fucking) day, still sick, still delirous, still stupid as shit, I go over and do all the things I'm supposed to do and guess what?!?!?!? I closed the door behind me and LEFT.THE.GODDAMN.KEYS on the table again. The door locks!

O.
M.
F.
G!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, I have to call the motherfucking locksmith again. He doesn't have a "master" because apparently "that wouldn't be right" and I have to agree, just not right then. I felt so stupid. You know it cost me $70 for that guy to pick the new lock! He pitied me and gave me $10 off. That $70 was my own personal money to buy presents with but responsibility fucking blows sometimes. I felt like such a turd. I didn't even tell my neighbors about the second time. I was embarassed enough having to tell Terry who merely shook his head at me and kind of chuckled.

You better not tell J&R either. I'll send Bailey after you and he'll spray you at least a dozen times!!

Last Week

One week ago
You were still alive.

Two weeks from now
You will have still have been alive
Two weeks ago.

Now you are gone
So very far gone
Such big spaces from then and now.