Tuesday, March 24, 2020

Ok urah.2 weeks off
No keyboard.
Tryna write on speaker and swype sux
Like this...

spent all morning reading poems from rattle. My bathtub needs cleaning, the laundry unwashed. I am not yet on isolation but I want to be. In the time of pandemic I wish to be well and do chores that I have not energy for when I work
At the factory, they are diligent with time. Orders must be made and filled and not be late. I do not feel a part of this team because I am repair. I fix the broken or missing or flamed out. There is no time limit on Resurrection. Still I try to have them done same day.
I want to take off for two weeks quarantine but the boss insists we work. We are not essential workers. Only to the bottom line. Should one or all of us die, fungibility will provide.
I want to do all this work but I am tired. I am tired and have a symptom that may or may not be related to the pandemic. My honey had it 5 days ago this symptom and now I have it. But he is not sick with the pandemic and is currently at his work, also non-essential. I want to pressure wash my house. I want to fold laundry. And though the thermometer will let me, my bowels do not agree.
I can still smell. I can still taste. But I have no appetite for anything but sleep, which eludes me. I don't know if it's nerves or habit that makes this impossible. Or the absence of television or the absence of information or the absence of my lover, out in the world today encountering the buds of absence waiting for spring to bloom

Monday, January 27, 2020


this how it should go down.
a b/w ticket, then b dies after election.
w is first female pres, uses b's death
as martydom to pass the demo social policies
that will save the usa from the despots.

Friday, January 24, 2020

the new normal

i want to tell you
about aging. but you're not listening
and who can
blame you? it's not a place anyone
aspires to, yet
 preferable to the alternative.

i'm sure you didn't lie awake
making stories of how in your dotage
you would be livin yr dream. retirement.
yeah, no one born after 1950 believes that.
(if you're already beyond me,
excuse the discoveries posted here)

  it arrives stealthily, in the night,
 a storm surge of sea
foam in the streets, set to smother .
you can push it away but there's  more
where that came from. try to keep your head up.
fan the space in front of you
there's nothing to tread in or on
you might be falling or drowning

but you're not sure, still breathing,
this is the way things are now.
object impermanence immanent,
you  fight mortality with every fiber.

some days you pick up shells
caress  skeletons of other lives
crush the marks they left
under your feet, unawares.
sometimes you're not at the beach.

your words are memories that no one shares.
your attempts at communication meet
with crossed signals, boomerang consequences.
relevancy got lost as you dribbled to the goal.
did you know there was a goal? ok you did
but it's not the one you're staring down now.

it's tough to be old in 'murca when
you're not in the government hogging that tit.
even if you are, senatorily speaking there
is a limit to how long you can be served
tho sometimes your name lingers after
you're gone. death is not a word

to be bandied about. it visits too closely
takes the ones who raised you or
takes your children first. euphemized,
its a gravity well into which you're falling
too slowly but way too fast. you've

become black hole spaghettified, hanging
infinitely at deep sleep's edge. longing.
but not enough to plunge, you coward.

Wednesday, October 23, 2019

driving in america

i've spent some time recently on the road.
twelve hours to tennessee, the more into kentucky.
saw some falls. talked a lot of estchatology
not so sure it's false when you look at what
we do to ourselves . 'm saving my energy today
for the stars. they must be brilliant out on the courses.
but it could be obscured by light polllution.
i'm beginning to get chilled sitting in the shade
on the balcony in my florida gear.
this resort is sweet, in a very middle class pamper mode.
i'll take that. noting ican do to stop it so i may as well
join in. take the ten hour hot tub soak. ease my
ache from travel. the constant motion of vehicle thru space
at seventy five miles an hour. i don't know if my twin
is younger or older from staying at home. but the miles
pile up. they wizen truck drivers and the mobile.
if we could only all learn how to merge again.
it's as if a spell has been cast on the suv drivers
the f250, tundra drivers like they're the only ones on the road
depsite my red color and wheels on the road

Sunday, October 13, 2019

there are 2925 message in my gmail

there is a birthday present for a grand
niece bought a month ago sitting on my bed
waiting to be mailed. her address 
was texted to me last week and i have stamps

my bills are due i haven't written in months
and i feel irrelevant. if this aneurism explodes
it would be fitting. however, ahem. i'm not
quite ready to die. relevance is relative, amirite?

it's more the ache in my bones that leads
to silence. the munch scream contained.
how love it itself is pockmarked by friendly fire. 

yehuda amachi, i want to be able to bring
desert sheepherders into my poems
but i live in  florida. we don't have
eons of cultural animosity to cure
yet we have abandon and sunshine
laws, meth and method and inevitably
a gator will show up as the punchline.
how does one seek commonality here?
look in the Okechobee for answers.

once i begin it's easy enough to spout
keep fingers moving 
down the page
quaff a line. easy to  leave
the bills behind,  drawers cluttered,
belongings scatter, a ring
in the ttoilet. hoarding may be
a manifestation of missing impetus.
save it all, you'll never know when you'll need it.

my honey likes to go to salvation
army stores and save old bowls and dishes.
 from what he 
doesn't know. i tend to
 crack and break my crockery
so to have them in my shelves is pure doom. 
  cracktown is on his way home.
i guess it's cheaper than a nite at the bar but 
ima hafta hold back 
on dropping the overflow on the tile. oops.

i don't have many passions since i gave up writing.
i haven't given her up as much as put her
into the closet. told her i'lll get back soon but
other than a few texts here and there
i pretty much ignore her. and i've had some
innaresting thoughts, i've just been speaking them
outloud. return to the oral roots. lol. right.
so i'm pretty sure she stepped out of the closet
and went elsewhere.


ok look one of hte things i need to say
that IS relevant and has the possibility to thornberg
economy. the amazon burns
every year more of it.  it's a war bettween
ranchers and the rainforest. becuase, say the ranchers
how will i send to my kids to university on cocoa beans?
so they grow beef. 

in a green economy, they would be paid to grow trees.
for every seedling x , for every sapling Y, for every mature
adult Z. 

that's it. simple enough. paid for in carbon taxes. beef can 
apparently, be lab grown now. atmosphere cannot.


i should pay those bills

Sunday, September 22, 2019

emapthy for what i want

last nite you called said
he said
divorce. i say lawyer up.
it's the same ol story, you do and do
and do and do again
till you have to ask for help which is what
partnership's supposed to be about
and he won't. just won't. you're not
the same girl i married he said you're
just a bitch now. never wonders why
don't put himself in your place won't
back off his horse, which is skyscraper
which is mountain then he lies
to the councilor with can't
live if living
is without you  you think
wow, he really loves me he
wouldn't lie to the shrink he
couldn't sing that song
if he didn't so relax then
one night you aren't fighting 
and he calmly walks in puts
a gun  to your head  to
just let you know
 two fingers point from his
 eyes to your eyes
like he was rambo
you're in his sights the clock
is ticking.

get a lawyer . i mean srsly.
he's either gaslighting you
or going insane. and then everyone
that understands what you're
going thru will be enemy.
he's setting you up
for a drop kick. and honestly
i'd think it was dementia till
you informed me how he financially
abuses you as both your boss
and husband. so . yeah. get yourself
out of there but do it smart.


but i love him .
i don't want to divorce i want
him to love me again .
g=hate is just backside
of love so why can't we toss up
and flip it back?
i mean i know he loves me.
doesn't he?
he says i've changed, and i have
but people change
he's changed too i told him
if he can't accept that leave.
so he
says i gotta change.
gives me 3 months.
it hurts so bad

Thursday, September 05, 2019

under pressure

ba ba boom boom

like the coffee in the morning
from espresson, i think i mihgt be
heating up to blow.

it's not that you've only conscripted
my talking points, it's that now
you don't like my style.

i'll be blunt i said
if that toilet isn't done tomorrow
i'm calling someone to finish it.

your comeback is you will leave.
i don't even know how you phrased it
i think it was if you insist on continuing
to speak bluntly, i will just leave.
i'm tired of bluntness

and what got to me most is not how
angry you got , i suspect i was expecting that
it's how ready you are to just leave.
instaed of the usual fuck you i got
this bullshit and i'm telling you
you don't have to have a reason to leave.
please let's not turn this into a cycle
of diminishing returns. i can't sleep
because of you. i don't want to sleep
next to you and i can't sleep away from you.

but i can learn to again.
so yeah i just am weary of being last
in your life. unless you want sex
for that' i'm still number one
for a while at least. once you get some
money under your belt, more will
be available. and why not? i complain
about not getting kitchen help
and you say you don't get enough sex
as if that's my fault, as if the two equate.
you not helping in the kitchen is the same
as me not initiating sex? for real?
i just can't get behind that tude.
one has to eat. i'm sorry i'm in so much pain
all the time, that i'm so weary all the time
that   my libido is dead. there might be other reasons
that i'm losing attraction to you, like
you saying fuck you if you odn't like what i have to say
or you saying you will leave if my bluntness
is not something you want to deal with anymore.
i mean, that's like punching me in the gut
and it takes awhile for the pain to subside.
meanwhile i want to talk to you less and less
about what bothers me. it's all so familiar.
it scares me. and now i've almost become numb.
indifference. that will get me through. the people
who are supposed to care about me act as if i
don't exist? ok fine. numb it out.
forget how to cry.  when you finally do hear me
you turn it into "you're tired of me". as if you've
pushed it so far on purpose, just to see how i'll react
how many ptsd episodes can one weather?

it makes me so sad i can't even cry anymore.
numb. space vacuum sad.