state of love and trust
as I busted down the pretext
sin still plays and preaches
but to have an empty court, uh huh
and the signs are passin, grip the wheel
can't read it
sacrifice receiving the smell that's on my hands...hands yeah
and I listen for the voice inside my head
nothin', I'll do this one myself

lay her down as priest does
should the lord be acountin'
will be in my honour, make it pain
painfully quick, uh huh
promises are whispered
in the age of darkness
want to be enlightened
like I want to be told the end...end, yeah
and the barrel shakes
aimed directly at my head
oh, help me, help me from myself
and I listen yeah, from both
sides of the bed
nothin', I'll do this one myself
oh oh oh myself....Myself

yeah, yeah

hey, na-na-na-na, hey that's something
hey, na-na-na-na, hey that's something
hey, na-na-na-na, hey that's something
wanna back, back it away , yeah

and I listen, yeah,
for the voice inside my head
nothin', I'll do this one myself
oh, ah, and the barrel waits,
trigger shakes
aimed right at my head
won't you help me
help me from myself

eh oh eh o ehh
eh oh eh o ehh

state of love

o pearl jam.

i am trialed
within this
tribulation
spiraled
in the
evaluation
of my abnormal cellular
make up
break down
shake up
take down

postponed
my willingness to cope
inevitable reaction
to gush
smoke
ponder hypocrisy
and say 'maybe i'll see you soon'
knowing i wont
happy
i wont

drive back
east

i am not my father.

no strand of his
mingling with any strand of my own.

his beating heart never pulsed an ounce of sacred soulness into my skins electroneutronicause

i call my conscious in
say
hey
listen
we needta talk
you know
about those things you been doing
behind my back
when i am sleepin

and my conscious
just laughs

... i told you
i was trouble
you know
that im no good ...

o a.w.

im leaving
on a moments notice
wont know it
til i
go

a hint
might be
the way i say your name
mixed with another word
not significant
kept within the context
of a
tangerine
or a
maybe

wine tongue
dance on
wine lip
chance i've
found something
else

to turn me in

in me
turn to
my soul
say
something i'll remember
so that when i walk
away
i'll think
hey
remember that thing
it was deep
it broke my heart
kind of
licked my soul
in its own way

i should
turn around

portland didnt leave you well enough
alone
coming home
marks like miles
on your arm
captive to your own
unwilling head
calling me from a payphone
just outside of st. louis
begging me
to beg you
to come back

71.

contact
flowers
brass
and
stain

full moon
21
winter start
and
snow fall

boxing
kwanzaa
happy birthday daddy
and
rest in peace daddy

hanukkah
christmas
new year
and
magnolia

heartbreak swagger
gin and vinyl
a steel pedal section
repeating goodbye
and dress sways between thighs
pushing around a dancefloor empty

his scarred hands
pulling me through

cigarette behind his ear
his tears mixing on a grease stained t-shirt
smokes tugged up tight against muscle breaking
from a days work no one will ever know

snow fall
organs in waiting rooms
jesus on the wall
and my prayers go unanswered

no savior for the sinners

an eleven million matters floating freely above and beyond the brilliant bobbleheaded babies
ooohing like owls who'ing
and the blue in the sky reflecting the chance to ever equal beautiful

years of loss
and
still
losing

11/5/08 nothing
but i wrote this here:
and where i am is not where i thought
i'd be
when i imagined myself BEING somewhere.

here.
where is that?
where have i ended up?
and that's so dramatic... i know .. .. considering nothing is ended.
ending.
end.ling.
Posted by Beat Poet at 7:56 PM

11/5/09 jimmy's bday. eh db night.
11/5/10

i caught a postcard from daniel boone
saying

"sweet woman come to the frontier.. come to the Culpeper and find me a poet"

his face on the front
without a coonskin cap
but a smile
slight and provocative
as though he were a lighthouse
guiding me home

im going now
my time has come

stranded.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m9FZeNOouMM

your fathers truck
pulls into my drive
i kiss my mother
tell her i'll come back when im broken

you've been crying
or at least
want me to think you have been
i hear her voice in the speakers
you drink from a can of beer

you drive me away from home
you say you love her
and i say i love that

the night your father died
the firemen pulled him from this cab
as her sweet voice sang
"...you cry for her the way i cry for you.."
i finger the gray material of the seatbelt

the tape finishes
flips
repeat

7 lines
indicating madness
sadness
disconnected and brand this
love on flesh
without this
there is nothing
without this
there is everything

7 deadly sins
masking their inadequecies
with stoned indifference
moody faults
and gloomy shivers
send her away
in all her need
to a discouraged island
of her own creation
to burn on her beaches

7 sides to your heptagon
your polygonous ways
angled and equal
centered in and on
itself
elusive
obtrusive
wont let anyone in
wont let anyone begin
to connect

7 colors in the rainbow
colors i can't see
blended smear of dark against sky
perhaps a cloud
branching in loveshade

7
within 188 days
i came around
carrying myself
broken
unentitled
slighted
swollen
sore
welcomed

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wPXQ39ub9k&feature=related

for hp
on side streets
in old houses
with wood floors
and doors that creak
drinking wine
crying
wishing she hadn't kissed the wrong boy so much

Tuig, United States

you drove so fast i couldn't breathe
jerry and jaeger
cigarettes and flowers
in a supermarket in des moines you bought me a wool hat
said i'd need it if i wanted to make it in wichita in the winter
rubbed my head
for luck
shaved and soft
fortune and curiosity
i gave you the last of my money in southern Oregon
you cashed in the change you saved
reminded me i wasn't married anymore
i wore that wool hat til i got to Southern California
when it was too hot i put in my pocket
you took my picture
with your fathers old Nikon
sent the film home to my parents
to develop
cause they missed my face
they said
when i called collect from Nogales
we fought about Zimmerman
and Sophocles
you memorized Kierkegaard
wrote "It is so hard to believe because it is so hard to obey" in my journal
and i didnt talk to you til we hit Charleston
was snowing when we said goodbye
West Virginia and a hand shake
you pulled the hat from my back pocket
stretched it down around my ears
kissing each one
for luck
you boarded a bus to Columbus
i waved -
drove so slow you'd be ashamed
looking for my highway home

a conversation
in verses
a harmonica
tense, and drippy
sliding down over each knot in my back
a guitar
sad, and grungey
dirty strings
ripping into skin
a voice unsettled with singing
oooooh voices

flesh battered
with beating
a razor rusted
from bleeding

echoes in every corner
ghosts tattooing our initials
on the walls
closed doors

blah

damn distraction. damn you sunday

returned to you.

echoes
where was i
closed doors

dusty attic

a table
slivered and raw
plates
unused
flowers wilted dry
in green vases centered on a piano
having screamed the last of their love out through drained petal
coils of vein in fragile piles
waiting to be blown away

a G played
like torture
between the oscillations
of a fan
burning
turning its head
slow dissatisfaction
no
no

no

nothing for the price we've paid
a thousand years before
on deserts
poisoned lips
throats dry
a voice unsettled with singing
oooooh voices

maybe 843 is too early to try to write something when im still caught in a pj hold.
come on jack
get through

millions of cells
pushed
sticky
against
millions of cells
breaking open
splitting
dripping
colliding
against
millions of cells
searching
curious
intensely
making
millions of cells

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Kd3Y-anRlM

baby, sweet baby,
youre my drug
come on and let me
taste your stuff

baby, sweet baby,
bring me your gift
what surprise
you gonna
hit me with?

i am waiting here for more
i am waiting by your door
i am waiting on your back steps
i am waiting in my car
i am waiting at this bar
i am waiting for your essence

baby, sweet baby,
whisper my name
shoot your love
into my veins

baby, sweet baby,
kiss me hard
make me wonder
who's in charge?

baby, sweet baby,
i want to feel your breath
even though you like to flirt with death

baby, sweet baby,
cant get enough
please come find me and help me
get fucked up



~ left alone in an old country house. a baby sleeping upstairs. midnight. wine. waiting for a call. three hours late. listen. Essence. i get nerve. i get upset. i feel lusty. and angry. and sad. and pace. a thousand steps in circles, hallways, lawns. waiting.

nearly four a/m. highway. silence. darkness. nearly dawn. stray cats. staircase. apologize. and tv glow. bent nails and bottle caps. i am unraveled. a sun rising. a moon falling. a good bye. waiting.~

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6eCwF7LaiA&feature=related

and i regret picking a fight with your mother
while you were eating ice cream on the back porch
considering changing the locks on our door
when we got back home

you slide into the car beside me
the stars were so bright if you weren't so mad i would have shown you sagittarius
but instead you held my hand silently
out of respect for what we've been through

and i say give me another try
i can do better next time
i have it all inside me
i dont want to unmake you mine

the highway was like an obstacle course
my thighs held against the other
waiting wishing you'd come over
the fog falling like clouds from manchester to albany

apologize quietly
you say you hate when i do that
like i regret the apology more than what i've done
and i shake my head uncertain you know me

i adjust the seatbelt
you adjust your hair
turn the song up louder
act like you dont care

you hurry in ahead of me and the keys you throw aside
i lock the doors and brush my teeth
wonder if i should call your mother
tell her i shouldn't have said she was an educated whore

but i dont and just lay there in the dark
as you refuse to share the blanket
and when i ask if you're still awake
you say no

you wake to find me gone
did you think i'd stay
i wont be left alone
im the first to go away

--unfinished ramble start---

in a garage full of gas
in yr mothers furs
you slept
dreamt of little red riding hood
and her big bad wolf
in forest and babies
running wild
lollipopped and catepillars
tripping on daisies and red wine
twisting on tongues burnt by the words you never meant to write
to boys in lands far far away
you told me as i was a tree
strong and dark
bent over your dark hair curled
that i could never leave
never go away
and i promised i wouldn't
that i was rooted there
forever
until you cut me down
and you promised you wouldn't
in a letter to your daughters
in a postscript to your lover
you said goodbye
liquored and lovely
burning and brave
woman and child
alone
stopping
born, again, to heaven

to anne, on days that i remember she died not that long ago

in the heroic present
we celebrate the unholy past
in terms with conditions
chords and choruses
repurcussions and vibrations
soloing on a midfall nights dream
that barely audible it neglects to last
falling over lines like obstacles
situations with intentions unmentioned
until you arrive, notice, and retract all you just said
shift the weight of the topic
and your body
on a chair in a kitchen you dont know
and wait to hear the ending hoping your involved

park dont
ride
come again
inside
take the road
drive
hold hands
alive

just bring your monkey business to my bed

mama called the dr and the dr said . . .

i am woken at 3
i am pulled from my warm womb
cover of comforter
and dream
by a hand of being
i've built
begging me to fix her own bed
make it warm
soft
without wrinkle
new
and i do
and she begs me to kiss her
and i do
and return to my own side of the house
wishing her bed
were big enough
for us both

strum down
pull slack
slide over
slip back

tip up
burn down
kick off
turn on

marry wise
eat well
plant fast
drink well

say no
nod yes
cry hard
confess

in a sticky petal
turned like silk
into a shade of deep sea green
and lemonade
blistered from the heat
and the squeeze of your fingers
tight around the lines of my curves of my flesh of my bones of my be
take
me
cured with liquor and tulip
pour
it down a drain
built by our own hands

i remember where i was a year ago today
by a river
nearby
eating cereal
wishing i could remember the full paragraph of the opening of the bell jar...
that could be appreciated if not for my memory
loss
on highways
and byways
and yourways
and myways
and this way is gonna hurt if i dont just
suck it up a little

and i turned down the sheets
put my legs in
together
pulling them to my chest
fingered my knees caps
and thought i might get up and sweep the porch
maybe call you
tell you it was raining
tell you i havent seen the moon in days

i lay there in the darkness
still
quiet
focused on my breathing
until i got bored
and imagined meeting you on a street corner
you disshevled
me .. misled
reveling in curiosity
drawing circles with our feet
around the other
talking in circumstance
and 'and so um, i, totally, uh, think, i uh, want to get a drink...'

drifts of deep
sleep
heavy waves of snow falling
my brain lingering
on the corner
of warren and state
trying to remember what i wanted to ask you

I want to come when you call
I'll get to you if I have to crawl
They can't hold me with these iron walls
We've got mountains to climb
-

hi


i knew you'd come here

read this

know this one

was

or

is ... about you

once i said, 'i knew you'd come here'

and you knew too

that if you waited long enough one would apply, to you.

and it is.

this one.

applying to you.

thank you for listening

always

and knowing it's,

yours.



love, ferdinand

a mobile
over my head
clowns
on tricycles
smiling
red mouth
ah

she held my hand
i apologized when i could hear her knuckles crack
under my grasp
she teared up in pain
said she loved me, to squeeze harder

.

all ten hours
of laying there
listening to the pulse
of my be
through a monitor
whispering my name
echoing
in the sterile room
she sat beside me
reading to me
Don Quixote

my body
it's broken
those bulges
unbending
thorny orbs
of
... who needs to be a woman

the ovary twisting
resisting its fate
of bearing and burning
eggs
go marching two by two....
into shells
burrowed deep
hiding
refusing to come out
clinging to the other in slow god embraces shaking their bloody fists in silence


a holy daughter
born from the blessed

fixed my time.
til it breaks again.

allen points
his point
eyes closed
centered in
on
his brain
reading words he engraved
while laying flat on his back
while getting head from blake
or a boy with a temper and insecurity issues

he combed his hair this morning
the jew in the curl
the curl in his jew
speaking downward
to
hell
at neal
who kicks the door open
just to hear it slam shut

glasses thick rimmed

blind men
leading the
blind men
bleeding the
blind men
feeding the
blind men
needing the
blind men
to open up their weary mouths
and recite it
word
for
word

a few letters
written backwards
you didnt like it
felt insecure about my intention
avoided me for days
didnt write back
in any direction

on a thursday
passed me in a parking lot
told me you'd leave the dark room unlocked

found you in it wetting a sheet of paper with my image on it
i had on a blue vest
smoking a camel wide
and a brown hat, covering blonde hair, that i found in someone's station wagon

grace.
otherwise known as katherine.
(her christian name)
left.

and we were alone
you didnt mention that i dyed my hair.
i was no longer a redhead
but a choppy dull black
the color of my combat boots

the drying room was dry
as i told you about about the art i saw in the middle of the state
following phish
you were quiet
and watched my the lines of lips darken and fill in

the floor was dirty.
the table unstable.

you walked me to my car

gave me my picture and touched the black ink hair
with black in fingers
and said you wished it was blonde again.

~ to birthdays i've forgotten ... remembering horses in back of pick up trucks wobbling ... awaiting their fate ~

im an idiot.

to void
is not to prohibit

shake the sheet
to half
and lick it up

absorb and smile
glow shake flourescent breeze
fireworks hide behind trees

cry as needed
and love as given

cold morning
tired eyes
sleepy brain
and excited soul

hearing the commuters pass
thinking of the things i have to do
to make matter matter
to make things happen
do warrant my desire and uncertainty

awake.
good morning thursday.
want friday.
thinking of waffles. and commutes. coffee and poetry.

im sleepy but in a good way
im in a good way but sleepy
the times they aren't changing
but i sure am.

first quarter moon
day after caitlins birthday
day before i dont care
and a decision i've been indecisive about

o the art
of making another
feel tremendously alone

and they did it well
like a picasso
in the blue years
or van gogh
in every year
like a water lily drifting in oil
a bridge not crossed
swaying in water and color
about to crumble
silently

like a tipsy flower
i've bent over
backwards
face to sky
fluid rushing to my cheeks
greeting god with smile and moan

in brooklyn
there's a bridge
over a water way
lapping up the sideway steel
of an all night diner
coffee sludge
muck and sugar
stir stir stir
spoon to ceramic
click tick whish
drink it down
find a payphone
apologize to your father
in heaven
for never saying goodbye

green curtain
fire truck
whirling fan
bags packed

orchid fading
on a window sill
downtown

sore throat
tea smother

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"kathy," i said, "i'm lost" ... though i knew she was sleeping.
"i'm empty and aching and i dont know why...."

ps

books you should read before you die...

World According to Garp - Irving
Way of the Peaceful Warrior - Millman
Ishmael - Quinn
Bell Jar - Plath
Interview with the vampire - Rice
Dharma Bums - Kerouac
On the Road - Kerouac
Catcher in the Rye - Salinger
Great Gatsby - Fitzgerald
Henderson the Rain King - Bellow
Bastard Out of Carolina - Allison
Beans of Egypt Maine - Chute i think
Song of Solomon - Morrison
Lolita - Nabokov
Language Older Than Words - Jensen

all i got. now.

the couch im certain
was trying to burn me alive

i dreamt last night
that you were parked next to me
i didnt see you
you said, "there are wolves around here"
and i turned
didnt recognize you

you did though.

laughed
i asked what was funny
and you shook yr head and looked down
i knew then

i asked how your mother was
and you said that she didnt like dogs either and you began to walk away
i called after you telling you left the doors unlocked

you came back to the car
you brushed against me
electric

i woke up

as i was unlocking my door
someone said, "good morning"
i almost didnt turn for fear it was going to be you
it wasn't
i sighed with relief.
smiled at the old man and said good morning.

we all watched the boat come in
at midnight
carrying our stimulants
and ammunition
wet lips and waves cracking on the dock
a lighthouse bleating out its welcome
a thousand stars pushing into place
a faceless moon smiling
thunder brings the rain

you wore flannel
played guitar
hobo tunes
woody guthrie'd laugh
and you'd throw your cigarette butts into the yard

you liked that i was barefoot
said i had righteous calves
found my sundresses something you could believe in
you gave away the books you read
and laughed when i hid mine from you in my mother's attic

you left on a tuesday morning
left a note by the telephone
it wasn't like you to call
saying, "if you find yourself missing me, stop"
and i threw it into the yard

you called on a january full moon
drunk gypsy woman nearby
rambling about how your fingers were thick as birch trees
you sang about barefoot waitresses you missed in new york
and in the chorus spelled my name

i wore corduroy
wrote poems on a tyepwriter
poem pianist
god'd laugh
and i'd write them in Indian ink on your back while you slept

I liked that you laid on the floor eyes closed inhaling deep to jazz o'henry waltzes
said i could watch you love it til you were done
found your fascination something i could believe in
i gave away the photos i took of us
and i laughed when you hid them from me in your father's house

i wept on a tuesday morning
cried myself back to sleep by the telephone
it wasn't like me to miss someone
saying, "i dont care" a hundred times
and you threw me away

i listened on a january full moon
drunk cowboy nearby
rambling about how my fingers were as fragile as my soul
i listened to you sing, heard my heart break again
and dropped the phone on the "e"

sick child
fix me
mother
please

3 a/m
find myself
alone
tired

curled into
fetal spiral
shaking
dream

of constellations
yrs mine
tangled
starry

i slept in yr mouth
curled around yr epiglottis
strumming it with my middle finger
watching the saliva drip into puddles
reflecting your teeth
chipped and crooked
gnashing through my hair
choking you while you worked

folding like
laundry
on lines i've drawn
between plateaus
and sugar mountains
some one said the elevation was deprived a constellation
of a bear
that you always could point at
and kiss me under
giving me a bucket of soap
with a washboard jingle

mis communication
and an i love you
for your worries
grow old
dig holes
and beside him let me be buried

I grew up on Main Street
across the street from the child molester of
1972
before i was even born
but he was kind to me
when i had a flat on my bike
he fixed it
in my front yard
looking around him
nervous
he had kind eyes
blue
cloudy
some say he didnt do it
i dont think he did
neither did my parents
who let him
buy me my first cassette player
because they had no money
and he smiled when i sang
and told my parents i'd be a star
he couldn't read or write
so i did his banking for him
filled out checks
for electric company
and supermarkets
and i would swallow hard
when he signed his name
confused
and awkward
he'd give me a ten dollar bill
thanking me
insecure and nervous
his family wouldn't talk to him
we made him dinner every night
my father and him talking about his days lost in the jungles of Vietnam
wishing he'd been killed then
when he could have been a hero
not a
child molester
my mother sorted his pills
his anti-depressents
and his anti-anxieties
into color coded boxes...
red
orange
yellow
green
blue
purple
and a full rainbow on saturday
when he thanked for
he wept
he died 3 weeks after we left Main Street
we came home for the funeral
I went to his funeral
couldn't go in
stayed in the parking lot
smoking a joint
watching no one come
and no one leave
waiting for my parents to offer their condolences to no one.

--- undone.

wednesday
upward
onward
loveward
homeward
bedward
backward
roundward
someones in the kitchen i know....

difficult.

and it's a hard..... and it's a hard...

wake up
to find out that
im blessed...

such a beautiful daughter.

bee stings
we sing
something nothing
missing things
gone here
have there
nothing something
all nowhere

friday the 13th.

nightmares
doctors
stings
spills
and
something to forget

wait
come home
yes
finally
release
sigh
o
world
in a good
way
dont worry

happy.

everything is so
heavy

what do we do
here
now
why didnt we do it sooner
where am i going
why do i want to go there

i want ice cream.
a lot of it.
and my mother to remember me.

lost.

vivid
full
almost three
full
rainbows
silliness
and catastrophe

assessing the assessment again
and i still agree

missing.

friday.
thankfully.
busy week.
thought a lot about kerouac timeline project
seems heavy
want to.
sleepy
wish slept another 4 hours
and didnt have work
i miss magnolia.
i always miss magnolia.

coffee and goldfish
overwhelmed with feeling
smile
smile
smile

in a rusty silver car
i smoked his last cigarette
knowing he'd notice
but needing him to notice
something
anything
i waited
the sweat dripping
collecting between my thighs
under my breasts
down the small of my back
he was inside
buying guitar strings for a guitar
he couldn't play
but wanted to
cause he said all the cunts liked guitar players
he didnt want me to come in
i didnt ask
i knew
the radio sent me vivid horoscopes
lyrics telling me to drive
turn the key
his key
and leave him there
all alone
pushing the door open
stepping out onto the sidewalk
searching for his car
and realizing what happens
he'll sit on the curb
upset
taking it in stride
reaching for his cigarettes
remembering he left them
asuming i smoked that last one
but i sit
wait
sweat
listen
stare
at children across the street
at the ice cream stand
wishing i were with them
laughing
learning
licking
loved
he emerges
pulls his beltless pants up to his hips
runs a hand in his greasy unshowered hair
slides in his seat
his scent foul on the air
familiar
he fumbles with the keys
nervous
anxious
turns the wheel
reaches for his last cigarette
glares at me
and asks me if ill ever be all right.

on a bench
in buloxi
i ate his heart
shaped like a kidney
pulsing out
nutrient and my name
begging
for mercy
or to
love it back
i swallowed it
whole and full
pushed my palm
against my belly
satisfied
and sad.

i aborted the memory
in sixteen minutes
and gave it to the world to stuff in its
bells jar
hoping that a libra was out there
watching it
feeling more nausea
than i was
wishing he would have just gotten out of the car
and held my hand.

june
may i get my heart broken.
or i may never write again.

i'm not writing my novel because im here, writing my blog.
o blog you fulfill me.
you're so much better than a stupid novel anyway.
what would i even write about?

at least here i can ramble and you love me.
right blog?
you love me?

the novel will kill me yet.

all my fathers are dead
all my mothers are dying

In asking a mother who the biological father, or fathers as it were, for her children you must be prepared for self-defense. She does not want to be seen as cold, callous, or a whore. She does not want to be cornered, or go to war for her own decisions that were made over 25 years earlier when she was just a baby herself. She does not want to remember the names, the faces, the sweat, the sound of them slamming the door behind them when they went home to their wives, children, homes, and histories. She was their fleeting moment; their unfinished business after 5 pm, before dinner was was served at 6. And none of that bothers her children. They've always known her for her bad decisions. What bothers her children was how much she liked it. How much she needed it and went out of her way to find it, and do it, leaving them unattended. Rushing off to local parks to fuck in a backseat while her children, all under 5, scurried around an apartment seeking out bread and butter from the kitchen not walking there, but jumping from stair, to couch, to dining room chairs, to table, to kitchen floor to avoid the fleas that infested unvacuumed carpets. But they always tried to love her, accept her, tell her how much they did when she returned home smiling, drunk, off balance with her mascara running into dirty pools on her already stained with sweat, and cum, and tears tanktops.

In asking a mother who the biological father, or fathers as it were, for her children you must be prepared for honesty. She may give you names, descriptions, careers, thoughts you never wanted to know, imagine, have, or call home. When the name is spoken it will never leave your brain. It will be tattooed on it until you die and you have to accept that in asking her, this will happen. And none of that bothers her children. They've always known some of them my not belong to the same father. What bothers her children was that her voice was the one they would hear until they died saying the name. "Jim". "Jim". "Your father's name is Jim." Her slippery, confused, embarrassed, sloppy voice saying a man's name she's said before, maybe even when you were conceived, but now it's different. She is telling you that after 25 years there will be another name to remember. And a fathers name, belongs to us. To you. Jim belongs to you.


In asking a mother who the biological father, or fathers as it were, for her children you must be prepared for dishonesty. She will avoid her betrayal, her lust, her desire, and her wrongdoing. She will say her mother sent her away too young. She will say she started to drink because her father was a drinker. She will say she was too young to know any better. She will say they made her. She will say she needed money. She will say she was a good mother. She will shake her head no when you tell her she abandoned you in a locked house for days to get laid and drink on binges. She will refuse to believe she never remembered your birthday. She will say you are a liar when you remind her how she told you to lie when she was seeing other men and didnt want the man you thought was your father to know. She will say that children dont know anything. That their memories are misguided. That you dont love her. That you are punishing her.

In asking a mother who the biological father, or fathers as it were, for her children you must already know it will break your heart.

im a mother
im certain of that
to a girl person
someone that calls me
mommy
home
i am her home
and sometimes
sadly
i want to run away
no
not from her

but from me.
wonder when she'll want to do that too.

im okay right? i mean, if i wasn't, i'd know, and i think i am, right? i said to myself this morning. when i got up out of bed. unplugged my charged phone. but it in my unwashed jeans pocket. and stood there. and i said to myself this morning. im okay, right? right. i am pretty sure. i am. if i wasn't i'd know. right?

all these bursts of creativity.... have to keep going. push. go. do. create.