Thursday, March 9, 2017

Trump is Like Oxygen

What if he's like 
the mask an airplane
lets down in the event 
of a looming catastrophe 
vital oxygen? What if we 
are oblivious to the 
rescue offered?

We push away this 
sustaining substance
because we find 
the equipment’s
delivery system 
(yellow plastic held by elastic)

We prefer 
to suffocate as we crash

to the tune of foreign, 
calls to worship crying out
to a god we 
do not know while our
own remains uninvited. This

(anthem parenthesis) 

cocoons angry women 
who in tender
moments administer rituals 
to initiate each other 
into wearing modesty 
by way of
hijab - draping  
our American flag 
around their heads
and necks as a symbol -  

consenting, ironically, 
and (un)knowingly 
to sharia law.

I'm going out on a limb (naked) by writing this - because I'm disturbed to my core. The core I didn't even know I had! I did not vote out of discouragement and hopelessness. After some digging, I'm wishing I had voted for Trump after all. Hate me too, if you will.

I'm confused with the hatred toward him and the hatred displayed by the women's marches. 

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Not Wearing A Pink Hat

today I listened to 35 minutes 
of what's considered news 
by thousands who tune in. 
Top news? Starburst
has a new package of 
all pink candy.

And a new app called 
Women Interrupted 
was highly recommended
to much applause. 

I confess: Women marching 
in silly pink pussy hats
spewing their own brand of
putrid hate is not silly at all
and makes me embarrassed 
to call myself 
a woman.  

 Does this app 
also track how 
many times women 
interrupt other women
or how many times women
interrupt men? 

The bullied become bullies. 
The tolerant aren't so tolerant. 
Facts are buried. Opinions go
viral in a world turned upside down, 
backwards and inside out.

Earl told us to learn to live with irony.
But I'm losing the hang of it. 
The only thing I can hold on to, 
the only thing familiar, 
the only thing I know any 
more when I see it - 
is love. 

It's still the same 
all over the world -
and forever. 
It never ends. 

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

A Bertie Wooster Day

"As I sat in the bathtub soaping a meditative foot and singing, if I remember correctly, 'Pale Hands I Loved Beside the Shalimar', it would be deceiving my public to say that I was feeling a boomps-a-daisy."   -P.G. Wodehouse would be deceiving my public to say that everything is swell, so I am going to remind myself that I have had an incredible life (and the story isn't even over yet) by doing a random wordy free fall bungee jump...right on the threshold It came out just like this, in this order. My life, it's so big. I forget sometimes to be awed and grateful.

I’ve lived in California, Idaho, Florida, Colorado, North Dakota, Washington and Alaska. I’ve seen

Petra, the Atlantic, the Pacific, the Med, the Red, the Dead, DC, Ohio, Iowa, Florida, Kansas,

Nevada, Arkansas, Georgia, Tennessee, Arizona, New Mexico, Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi,

California, Alaska, Minnesota, South Dakota, Nevada, Idaho, Hawaii - Maui, Big Island, Kauai,

 Oregon, Montana, Maryland, Jordon, Israel, Germany, Scotland, Ireland, Austria, Wales, Australia,

 Tasmania, British Columbia, Alberta. I’d like to see Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, Maine,

Pennsylvania, Virginia, Wisconsin, South Africa, isle of wight, Cornwall, The Hebrides. I’d like to

bicycle around Lake Michigan, the Great River Road, Paddle parts of the Missouri, the Snake, the

Columbia, and the Colorado Rivers.I can cut hair, cook for crowds, build with wood, weave baskets,

sculpt, weave, embroidery, crochet, make paper flowers, draw, paint, give affection, have amazing

orgasms, take pictures, edit, write poetry, write, I’ve been obscurely published 3 times, I’ve met

Kathleen Norris, Nigel Goodwin, Gregory Wolfe, Jeff Overstreet, Scott Cairns, Lucy Shaw, John

 Hoyte, Gregory Orr, Patricia Hampl, Warren Farha, Michael Card, David and Karen Nee, David

Dark, Sarah Masen, Charlie and Andi Ashworth, Over The Rhine, Steve Laube, Jerry Root, Earl

 Palmer, Dick Staub, and Eugene and Jan Peterson which means I might as well have met Bono. I

had a beautiful garden and a hospitable home. I’ve served thousands of people food. I have 2

daughters who love me and husband who’s been faithful, undeservedly. I have seen nuns ride horses

 in full habit. I’ve seen the northern lights. I’ve heard rocks roar and felt the ground tremble in

Hawaii. I’ve heard the rocks sing in Yelapa, Mexico. I’ve watched a young man shoot heroin. I heard

God laugh - twice. He danced with me once. He teased me on the beach twice. I’ve watched a

silversmith engrave, a cowboy braid leather in the round for a whip, a potter wrestle 15 pounds of

clay into a bread  bowl for me. I’ve seen a horse trained and a donkey pack. I’ve milked a cow and

collected eggs, I’ve butchered chickens and cried for my butchered lamb. I’ve seen had a lamb and

 dog put down. I’ve picked corn, hoed beets, planted beans, stacked hay, and dug potatoes. I’ve

harvested berries and filled a freezer. I’ve said “maybe next year for years. I intimately know the

mystery of sourdough and am still fascinated, after 35 years. I yearn for an outdoor stone hearth oven,

a place by the salt water, a whitehall slide seat row boat, an ocean kayak, I think horse toots are the

sweetest perfume. I have given thanks because He asked me to. I’ve hiked Tasmania’s Overland

Track I’ve wept more tears than I knew I had. I’ve seen, picked up, saved, and given away thousand

of heart shaped rocks. I feel blessed when I see rainbows, shooting stars, and pennies. I have gambled

with a quarter doing heads or tails with God. It didn’t turn out well. He didn’t want me addicted to

knowing for sure. I have crossed latitudes and divides, great rivers and oceans. I have seen old man’s

beard dripping to the ground and gravestones resting beside the sea. I have seen mill stones used for

gates keeping happy sheep. I saw a wallaby stretch her pocket out for her joey. I’ve laid down new

flooring and painted a 2 story house. I think I felt an angel correct me at the wheel. I believed I heard

God’s audible voice once as a child. But it must not have been. I’ve imagined myself into Little

House on the Prairie as well as Pride and Prejudice. I feel the punch or cut or birth pangs in movies.

 Blood makes me faint. I get motion sick on merry go rounds and swings -now that I’m old - which

makes me sad. I crave avocados, roasted vegetables, filberts, peanut butter and raw milk. I play piano

badly only in the key of C. I used to play accordion. I can pick up an harmonica and make music. I

wish I played the banjo. I want to learn more about stone boats, stone soup and hearthstones -

anchoring hospitality to safe harbors where people commune together. I love to garden with my

 daughter. I’ve seen opium poppy fields. Moab’s Arches is my favorite National Park. My favorite

 childish memory was watching my father fell and chop trees. I come from a formidable family of pie

 snobs. Everyday I pray to notice and learn how to love. I've tried to incubate eggs in between my

 breasts. I read several books simultaneously. I have a compulsion to read every word I see and can't

stop myself. I used to suck my thumb as a child. I'm currently homeless. I just found out there was

another child like me long ago. Her name was Catherine. Laura Riding wrote her four letters. I read

them on Brainpickin's and now know I'm not alone.