Long Distance Charges May Apply

Last night, 

I lost my temper.

I raised my voice,

and fought back tears.

It wasn't you, my love, 

that my rage was sparking for

It was all the world around us

and the way it tries to let us down.

After you hung up

I cursed at my ceiling

and pointed my finger at empty space

and told it I would not stand for it any more.

All my life, I have held my tongue.

And let rivers rush over me, and blue birds fly by.

But not now. Not after you. Not after this.

I will not sit in silence.

I will stand on the corner and shout at the stars 

until you can hear me calling you home.

Back Seat Hurricane

The day before the hurricane
neither of us had to work
and we spent a whole day parked in the woods,
steaming up the windows on my grandmothers Saturn,
even though they were open and the rain was coming in.

Your bones pressed hard between my thighs,
I could feel every atom in your body vibrate
and compress itself down into the tips of your fingers.
We were soaked in sweat, clinging to each other
your breath lingering on my lips...

I can taste you now and feel you still.

Bearing down on me
until your hands were raw and I was on fire-
Burning up underneath you
in the front seat of my car
like teenagers on a Friday night.

The roof and the sky blurred together in a swatch of grey
Your eyes pierced the haze of
cigarette smoke and humidity.
I lost myself in the ocean of your salty skin
and drowned, gratefully, in your arms.

RAIN DANCE

Standing out on the gravel, I can see the storm coming.

Heavy and grey, rolling in from the West with steady intent.

The damp air shifts nervously, pushing back fog, gusting up from the ground

As the sky finally opens

And the first cold fat drops plummet to the clay.

Gathered on the porch of the red wooden shack,

We press back against the wall, away from the wide waterfalls 

That run wild over the gutters and spill out

Flooding the mulch walkways with ankle deep puddles.

I sink my feet into them and walk slowly,

already soaked,

to my car.

I want to stand out there with my face to the sky

Feeling the spirit of my ancestors

cling to me like my t-shirt

and dance to the sound of the thunder breaking.

But people are watching,

and the roads are flooding.

This is no time for a rain dance.

In the shelter of the car,

I strip down to my underwear and turn on the defroster.

My clothes soak the passenger seat,

and my windows steam.

I light a cigarette.

Rain taps out an angry rhythm on the roof,

and I turn the radio up, rolling through swamped streets

that threaten to swallow the vehicle from the tires down..

Halfway home the storm breaks, slightly,

turning over to soft showers singing on wet leaves.

The breeze rustles through tree tops, whispering the secrets of life,

And wet earth breathes the smell of an ancient memory,

Where once we dared to dance in the lightning.

TRIGGER FINGER

Stupid little fingers

don't go tapping out your morse code heart

to the one on enemy lines.

Didn't you get the memo?

Brain says we don't feel that way anymore

and She's got Heart under lock and key 

for insubordination in the ranks

Now confined to solitary...

Stupid little fingers

wanna give it up quick like lightning

like virgins in backseats

taking back promises they crossed over hoping for

Stupid little fingers

picking at the scabby plastic suture threads of

open triple bypass surgery

patchwork blood letting

Stupid little fingers

tippy tap dancing 

on the keyboard of regret

you don't hit send til I tell you to

Stupid little fingers

think they run this joint

but I'll cut them off

if they don't stop straying.

Back To Basic

DISCONNECT.
I spent two months in self induced solitary.
I had no internet service and only basic cable.
I didn't frolic wildly with friends, or obsessively check my emailfacebooktwitter.
I worked, and counted my pennies, and tried to climb out of debt.
I hung art work on my walls and curtains on my windows and unpacked the last of my boxes.
It's only been four years since the move.. Feels like sanctuary again.

CELEBRATE.
My Aunt died of cancer over the holidays.
Made me appreciate my appreciation. For everything.
The wonders of life.
Fresh produce and clean dishes, a cold glass of wine, early morning sunlight.
Running in snow with dogs, laying in bed with someone you love. Chocolate.
A good cup of coffee. Working the body hard. Letting your mind dream.

SIMPLIFY.
Life is too sweet to be filled with the bitterness of worry.
Life is to preciously unique to be compared,
one individual to the next.
We all march steadily to the grave. It's not a race.
Overflow your numbered days with the deliciousness of things you love.

PAY ATTENTION.
You are missing all the beautiful details of this magical exsistence.
We are water and iron and electricity
and we are spinning through space towards our destiny at the speed of thought..
And that right there is a miracle.

I Love You, Fruitlessly

I love you, fruitlessly..

Like my trees in winter

with a spring that's never coming.

All my wild flowers

Wilted, throwing petals down 

like silk stockings at the foot of the bed.

I love you, fruitlessly..

Like a treasure map with no X,

and a rainbow without a pot of gold.

Lazy rivers

Icing over

Forgetting what it's like to thaw.

I love you fruitlessly..

A journey with no end,

A ship always on the horizon.

HOIST THE COLORS

I'm bored and everyone is old.

The whole world went back to school and so did their children.

And we never learn a god damn thing.

Didn't I try and tell you once to be open, 

and to listen to everything around you..?

I am overwhelmed.

The hum of urban neon chaos, 

the soundtrack of my dreams, 

the song in my footsteps.

Crafting Life like the pattern of a wedding dress.

Marking in chalk, pinning things down, 

cutting delicately on dotted lines.

Poised for Power 

feels more like

Standing on the Precipice.

At any moment my castle may tumble into the sea.

I may be thrashed to bits on the rocks below.

Drowned in the white waters and sunk down into cold depths.

Falling is the easy part-You just fall.

It's the jumping that's hard.

It's the landing that's tough.

Flying with a mostly blind eye on the horizon,

I long for the fall.

I wish for the tumble head over heels into Anything.

My life; A long series of blurry cartwheeling landscapes.

Somersaulting before my eyes.

The Spin Cycle.

Going over and over my Self.

Over and over again.

Revising, reviewing, redoing-all the same shit.

Style this next flight a long one, to someplace I've never been-

Maybe around the Sun and the Moon

Breaking back through the atmosphere like Fire.

I'm bored and America is an angry old woman- and so is everyone in it.

Shake off your cobwebs and burn down your pretense 

And fly your rebel colors if you can hear me..!!

Prepping for another unknowable departure to Anywhere

I swear I won't even take my landing gear this time.

I make no plans to touch down, or to ever return at all...