We Don’t Watch TV

Why do you need me to meet your
feeble expectations
of what it means to be
a mindless consumer
indulgent on pop culture
addicted to television
dependent on mass media
because you are
because you are
because you are
doesn’t mean that everyone else is
or should be
so stop trying to make yourself
feel better by
“Not believing”
that we don’t watch tv
‘Cause we don’t!!!


Belly hops!

Red cloth
Jiggly feet
Reggae beat
April showers
by the hour
Sacred flowers
Belly hops!


Listening to the tumble
in my womb
the squiggly line
the rumbling moon
that casts a silver shadow
across the fools
who prop and play and bend
the rules for centuries
It’s not my turn
It’s my turn
to play
and I’m quite quite okay
with that–


I’m forgetting to write a poem a day
Choosing to go astray
to other
Release me from your morbid whirlpool
of past lives and sketchy photographs and caked on masks
I want nothing to do with three dimensional thinking
Having experienced 4 and 5 and possibly 6
I want to promise myself
promise myself
we will go back to the way things were/are
Writing a poem a day
NOT going astray
At least just for today–

Fan Making Workshop

Beautiful blue feathers fanning
Eyes glued in solemn meditation
She glares at you in the presence of unnatural small talk across the table
And hours later she herself has unglued her mind from the process asking you to sing one more song
Just one more song
Here I am
Completely done
Completely fried
Unhappy with my colors
Unhappy with my tying
Hoping my dissatisfaction does not seep into the prayers
that my little baby will like her gift
and that someday the ancestors or Creator himself
will take away this stupid self hatred
and allow me to fully love myself
mistakes and tears and fears and all–


praying for divine inspiration
to flow from head to heart to hands
What will come out today?
acutely aware of word vomit
and all the subtext that comes with it,
I will keep my thoughts in humility
and gratitude for all the messages
yours or mine
as a new day cycles on
and on


Filtered yellow light
Shines on and on
My perception of luminescence
Here in bed is
Dimmed by my aching for you
To come home
And tell me everything is going to be okay–



Looking for a quiet moment
to write
The second of peace
The place of arrival
where sounds and smells and images
take me to the butterscotch place of poetry
of dark seated images
of desperate bone bashing dreams
of black solid figures hovering at the edge of my bed
juxtaposed against
anyone’s small and fragile smile
cherry blossoms in full bloom
and mint ice cream
or cookie dough
not melted–


The water rushes down the faucet
You are diligently washing dishes
and in my search for me
and in my search for you
We have finally found a home–

The Equinox

equal day
equal night
the movement
from darkness
to light
the transition of
the soul
to a higher
denser plane
the letting go
of cold
and old
belief systems
the crocuses
are beginning to
peak out
to say hello
the brush away the
and unassuming
we welcome the ties
that bind
the endless ride
the cyclical journey
mother earth’s pride
and joy


Dark hand
pressed over a
static space

We raise it up
We ask for help
We could be sinking
or anything else

Gray TV
blinking on and off

in the cold room
the window is open
and now it’s shut.