sandcastles

i was made not lasting.
show no photos,
no proof i was here
but proud work
satisfied with
ephemeral beauty.

a day where all the children
like to play bivouac
on the front lawn, full of
thoughts for guests,
for drinking,
for no one was home.
but they were already opened,
used and refilled many times.
little clusters of quartz crystals…

no, those aren’t my mother’s,
those are my own pictures on the walls
to remind me where i came from.
they tell my story,
the story of my family,
those children are my own children.
show me the rounds.
(how many…?)
it’s hard to remember school-time,
needed some extra help,
we were inhospitable at times.
(or was it?)

“how is your husband?”

oh, he is here.
he is well.
better.
walking.
what am i doing?
i have such a hard time remembering…

the man on the phone,
what was his name!
i called him something else,
i said, “maybe it starts with a g.”
did he say i was right,
or just getting close?
he said, “don’t you remember
you’re married and you have two boys?”
he was calling to tell me,
and i was still distracted, daydreaming.
i was in the city, enjoying the scenery,
i didn’t know where i was.
i didn’t own life.

yes, my job is that i am sensitive
to the energies that fill
the buildings and offices.
i work in what is my answer.
you didn’t say leave the money.
stay home, god.
he doesn’t care what other people think
of me when i am not love and loving.
i am not living.
i dreamed i bloomed.
i am not even planted.

gotten off course, angel.
need realignment.
healing and prayer is the core.
my body? well, the yoga and whole foods
keep coming back every time
i need to get this right.
shape up kind to my skin,
no-fillers-clean.
my house won’t worry
so much about decorating.

fall into place.
(sink back into the sand,
sit at the bottom of the ocean and see.)

focus your energies.

Easter Sunday Blessings

My dear friends,
Cathartic extensions,
Locust invasion
Wants to come visit later.
You have recieved the
Rewards, rewards of
Attention to conglomerate crisp $100%
Housing our freedoms;
The Bible’s not breaking news.
I want to, I want to
Help save bourgeoisie too.
New messiahs from
Here to there,
Have you tried to reach me?
Blanca y negra,
Public and private,
You can and you will
Develop your wants gold,
Pentagons inside secret-special lagos
Lift milagros,
Millones de naranjas,
One million and one million more,
Canaanites and Amazonians
Value what’s up there high…
Profile-vouge-share,
Pray with our digitals&prayshareshare
Beers after Stations of the Cross&likeshareshare
I’m the rain bride
For you, love, Princessdivine,
Go now, reach me, reach me,
I want to, I want to
Recieve the Easter sacraments,
Holy water for my lips and eyes,
Cleanse my sight and tongue
Renew my baptismal rites.

grown

suffocating
day by day
slowly, surely
into decay

oxygen leaks out
into ether
replaced by toxins
replenished by waste

the existential conundrums
as we hit fan blades
event horizons
in time-space

black holes,
our own egos
coming to pieces
at last

resistance is
relinquished
ripping atoms
in ecstasy

pushed over the edge
of the universal hotbed
we were birthed in
here –

– we are at Home
in this galaxy of lights
glistening at the
far ends of other

wormholes, warm and
whole, suckling at Mother
Milky Way’s breast and bawling,
“but, God! I’m the one

who tries too hard
because I don’t know how to be anything
but an authentic and sincere
sad son of a bitch”

how beautiful it is
to be cared for
and contented,
womb-like

nowhere to go
but to grow
up and out
and into this

Dear Beings That Live in the Starlight,

Dear Beings That Live in the Starlight,

Hello! I see you now, as you dance around
in the reflections on this page
as the sun hits the clear-plastic-kaleidoscope
of my pen while I’m writing this note to you,
standing in one of your portals of light.

I’m here. You’re here.
How’s the weather, friends?
Let’s shoot the breeze…

Feels like you’ve always been there for me…

I felt your presence as a little girl.
The warmth of the sun on my arms as I played
in the grass, rode carnival rides,
and my bike to the five-and-dime.
I used to stare out my window
through the pink petals on the dogwood tree
and soak in the sun. They told me I wasn’t
supposed to, that staring into the sun is
a good way to go blind, but
I loved the geometric shapes it imprinted
in rainbow colors on the darkness
of my mind’s eye, where I
perceived you as something more
than they claimed you to be.
Not the god with the white robe
and long beard I knew from church.
Not the science on TV and in the classroom
that explained away your rainbows so easily
without the charm of your magic I knew so well.

You were there when the kids at school
laughed at me, pointed fingers and gossiped,
called me names, feared me for being strange,
when my reputation for witchcraft preceded me,
when I built my first altar in the hayloft,
when I fell asleep in the thicket
and all the faeries emerged from the little purple flowers
and danced around over my sleeping crown,
blessing me with their faery-dust;
infused in the music that carried me,
the books that fed my mind and heart,
the friends that shared lifetimes with me
in the infinitesimal moments of our youths,
in sunrises over the lake and the mountains,
laced with effervescent colors melding into
mushroom-clouds with the beat of our hearts.
I see that spark that shines just right
in my lover’s eyes, that something
that shimmers the same wavelength
you glow in my children’s souls;

There is something going on here.
Something more than meets the eye.
And I don’t always understand what you’re saying,
but I’ve felt you there with me, so much of the time,
and I know you have felt this way, too.
I know you are listening,
and I want to tell you: I love you.
I have always loved you.
I have been chasing your beauty and kindness
and joy-love all along.

Thank you for dropping me this line.
I so often despair, knowing all too well there are
much darker tunes out there,
but I trust in your guidance. You have ever lead me
away from temptation and every evil.

You are the heart of my quest.
My best friend, my forever.
You are everything!
In the fields, in the woods,
in the streams and abandoned buildings.
You are everywhere!
In my bones, in the earth,
in the stars, all the stars.

(Yes, I miss you when I forget myself
and get lost in the shadows.
Please forgive me for never thinking
to call you to me by name…)

Until next time,
♥♥♥

(I always lie too much.)

Call it what you will,
but I like doing this.
Whatever gets me to the page.

I miss him.
I mean, he’s right here,
but rooms away,

locked and lost down
some hallway in his mind.
And, I bit all but one

of my nails off.
Nervous.
It’s that anxiety.

Pulling fistfulls of hair out
in the shower.
Picking at my skin.

I feel old.
Grandma-in-the-nursing-home.
Life doesn’t seem real

some times.
How does it
keep going on?

How are we here
on this clear day with
blue skies and

wisps of white clouds?
Forever looking out windows
and writing…

What was that affirmation
I was supposed to
say out loud?

“Let God work through me.
I’ll take care of the quantity.
He takes care of the quality.”

Mother Mary, may I ask you again…
everything…and you’ve always
obliged, always provided.

I wrote poetry just for you.
Whole pages filled with
proclamations, declarations,

emancipation from the world
as I knew it to be, into worlds
just waiting to be known.

Just keep going,
just keep writing,
just keep filling the page,

always, always, I say!
“Edit,” but, I never do.
I stuff it full.

More always, always,
to-the-brim-stuffed.
I always like too much.

Where did I go wrong?

At every turn
down the side streets
and alleyways I am wont
to pass through

I trusted curiosity
not to lead me astray,

and my heart knew your love.

Maybe that’s enough.

Maybe all we have left
is this one lonely day.

(I love you, I love you,
Thy will be done.
Forever and ever,
Amen, amen, I say to you.

I love you, I love you,
Thy will be done.)