Thursday, August 29, 2013

I Worship You, My Human Prince

I worship you, My human Prince,
For you are like a god to me.
I place a laurel wreath upon your brow.
You came to me as a sterling swan--
Exquisitely pure and beautiful,
Yet I didn't know
The extent of your divinity.

I might have feared.
I might have run.
But your love drew me,
Wooed me, won me,
And you are,
Above all else,
A king in this heart of mine.

-jenn long

Your Problem

I don’t have a problem with you,

But you have a problem with me.

I’ve failed to meet your every expectation.

But, I can’t fail at being myself,

So maybe it is 100% you

Who’ve failed to see me as I am

And accept me on that basis.

-jenn long


The little yellow flowers I like
Smell like honey in the night
And ope to the morning
Fresh and filled with dew.
And as the day grows harsh and hot,
Equanimity defines their lot.
Fully bloomed and glorious,
They wait the seed.
They ride the wind
With sunny smiles
And grow for miles and miles and miles.
Pretty good--
For a weed.

De Ja Love

Baby I've lived like this before,
But it was only in a dream
Where reality touched
An eternal tangent with Love.
But your goodness makes me know
That the fabric of time
And the backdrop of relativity
Can never win the battle against
The pull of the indivisible ones
And subatomic certainties
That march to the great poet's song.

And I can hear the deep B flat
Crooning from a distant star
And the go lucky whistle
Of the orbs that pass me by.
They sing a song of DNA
And the chorus says
My cells are coded
To love you the way I do.
How sweet it is!
How sweet it will always be!

-jenn long

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Heart to Heart

He anointed my heart
With olive oil, again,
Touched each wound
With his fair hand, and
Poured me full of affectionate peace,
Kissed each ugly fear
With kind acceptance,
And cradled me in his love.

And just as tenderly
As the first
Time that he tended me,
Was the second,
And the third,
And this has surely mended me
Again...and again...and again.


-jenn long

Worthy Pursuit of Booty

You go pack your muzzle loader,
And we’ll go “wabbit hunting.”
I’ll pack us a picnic lunch
And wrap a furry bunting up,
So that, when we’re ready,
We can sprawl and fawn,
And feed each other crustless scones
And scatter thereupon
Our passing, invisible baubles,
And our trophies, and our crowns,
And forget them all,
And disseminate
Our sophisticated gowns.
And there, uncomplicated, we
Can love each other— free
From all the trappings
Of culture’s snares,
And together
Simply beeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
(Now that, My Friend, is a worthy pursuit of booty.)

-jenn long

Colors of Love

The colors are wholesome—
Gingham and check,
Orange, avocado, and milk thistle blue.
We roll like two whales at play in the ocean
With little or nothing to do.
Skin on skin,
Ear to lip,
Whispers of loves gentle way,
Wrapped in a roll of pleasure's tease
Alone at the end of the day.

And the evening is peace
And love and joy,
And the lull of the whipporing loon
Rocks us to sleep,
In the throes of the deep,

Where morning comes much too soon.


-jenn long

Wild Berries and Sweet Talk

Wild berries take longer,
More sugar and time,
Cool nights in the cellar,
Warm afternoons.
But sweet
And tart
And hearty the wine that’s
Squeezed from the dark hearted vine.

(Sweet talk will get you everywhere with me, Baby.
Sweet talk’ll get you where you want to go.
Cool dark nights in the root cellar, Baby,
And warm sunny days with you.)

In my chair,
The mountain air--
Cameo, goss’mer, off-white,
Billows loose and
Allows the spruce
And mountain laurel scent
To roam free and thoroughly.

With no concern for “polite,”
I close my eyes
And can see
An end of the impermanent,
A beginning of eternity,
Where the real resides,
Where the vision guides,
Past the illusionary,

To something exponentially past
Content and uncontained.


(Sweet talk will get you everywhere with me, Baby.
Sweet talk’ll get you where you want to go.
Cool dark nights in the root cellar, Baby,
And warm sunny days with you.)


-jenn long

Shine On

This is the only time of day.
The rest of it is night.
But, when the light of your august dreams
Reflects through the directed beams
Of the sun,
Then the clock strikes "holiday."
My quadriceps contract and churn
In a dead heat run
Til I can fall
In a heap
With you,
And smile,
And enjoy the fun of seeing
Dreams come true.

So, keep shining, Shiner!
Shine on! Shine on!
Beat the time in me!
Beat the daylights out of the day,
Then hurry home and see,
Your destiny doth beckon.

-jenn long

Monday, August 26, 2013

Back Together

I’m scattered.
Gather me. Gather me.
Put me back
Together again.

I’m dirty.
Lather me. Lather me.
Wash me clean
And better and then,
Love me. Love me.
For I was dead—
And your kind word
Did rouse me
(and ready for bed.)
-jenn long


I am a mud hut
On a dark and woeful night.
And in a storm of violent wind,
A sojourn traveler comes.
He takes one hand and shakes his hood,
Dark ringlets drip with rain.
He disrobes,
And suddenly aglow,
Brightness fills my room.
The light is effulgent and alive....
It bulges my simple walls.

Breath and wind and spirit mingle
In low imperceptible groans.
The glorious peacock fans his fantasy.
My every grain bejeweled in shines of
Silken blue, and purple royal.
Oh, I'm bleeding!
Ohhhhh! I am bleeding!
I am human,
After all.

-jenn long

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Honey Globe

In a honey globe at Christmas,
The glitter falling round
Is sweet as apple pectin.
Not a single sound
Is heard. The silence shines,
And slow motion time replays
The sweetness of the passion,
And the glitter stops and stays
Above my eyes, and I can count them.
They number in the millions,
And as they start to fall again,
They dance delicate cotillion
To an 18-16 time,
And the beat is strange and foreign,
But it pulls me into rhyme.

And the poetic nature of the gods
Has drawn me out of fate,
And love inside this honey globe
Has pulled me out of hate,
So now I live.

Yes, now I live.


-jenn long

Friday, August 23, 2013

Shirtless Brigade

I want to go shirtless,
Like I did when I was two,
And ride my bike
Like I do today,
Just without all those clothes on top,
Just gettin’ in the way of that breeze
As I coast down that hill—
The one with those cool green shaders on both sides
And those sweet, little cool spots.
I think if we all quit hidin’
And went nude,
There’d be some high fallutin’ folks
That we wouldn’t esteem quite as high,
And maybe there’d be a few others
That we look down on,
That we’d find a bit more interesting.

-jenn long

Bathtism of Love

The cascade of memories goes too fast .
I try to scale the waterfall
While wetness pours across my face,
Washes o'er my skin.
I smile and drink from the precious fountain
And pause on an outcropped ledge.

I remember your words—
Like fresh air within the water,
Like ribbands of rippling hair
That run, dripping down my face.
And then, they swirl up all around me,
In this, our most sacred ritual.


-jenn long

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Good Company

I feel like I'm loaded for bear.
Finger on the trigger, I
Hope I don't shoot too soon,
But, I'm walking the night sky with Krishna,
Tiptoeing particles of light,
And the universe hangs around his neck,
And the Pleiades  glitter about his sweet head,
And Ursa Major
Is something worth aiming for.


-jenn long

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Let me...

Let me just write love poems to you, Darling.
Let me pen acrostics in your name.
As the homing pigeon and the starling,
As the gaslight finds its open flame,
Let the pages fly to you unfettered
And unread by eyes that refuse to see
That, in sweetness, they have all been bettered
By a length of depth's magnanimity.
And if in that furlong some cosmic tale
Be told, may you, Muse, be the man you are.
May all the happy endings be to scale,
And all my pinings never leave a scar.
Should I write the tribbulets you inspire?
Or wad them crumpled, throw them on the fire?


-jenn long


I send you telepathy
All night long.
Come and love me.
Come, and love me, Baby.
Meet me at midnight
By the lilac bushes
In the heart of the wisteria grove.
Tangle yourself in the fragrant branches—
Limb to limb,
And push your way,
Until you come, sweet face to face,
With your own soul's pure doppel.
Love me some more.
Love me some more.
And let me love on you.


-jenn long

Word Debt

I repay my debt to society.

All those terms that I used

And misused.

Now, I learn what they really mean.

I sit, chained to my granite—



And my nine pound hammer—

Chipping away

At every idle word.


-jenn long

Saturday, August 17, 2013


Summers are hot.
Fall is busy.
But I’ll be
Your Wintergirl.
Peppermint Schnapps,
Wintergreen candie,
And I’ll be
Your Wintergirl.

There’s snow on the mountains,
Snow on the rooftops,
Nothing to do but
Put logs on the fire.
Pull up a quilt,
Cuddle me, Baby,
And I’ll be
Your Wintergirl.

When I think about you,
Warm thoughts move me.
Northern Lights,
My heart starts to melt.
There’s a spring thaw comin’,
But it’s still snowin’,
So come and love on
Your Wintergirl.

-jenn long


I have DNA that tells me,
“T A G  C A T  G A T,”
Which translates into body talk:
"Turn to gobby fat."
Oh, it speaks of other things,
Gives me eyes like ice,
Palomino tan and gold,
But, watch out for those thighs.


-jenn long

Clear Creek

I hang my clothes on a peg at night,
Put them on in the morning light,
Wash them in the creek when the sun gets hot,
So they can quickly dry.
I wash myself in the clear creek, too,
And sit on the rock like the crickets do,
Who've just bathed, or, as well, fallen in.

I'd like to bathe, or fall in to you,
And cover myself in your clear creek dew,
Be honeyed and gloried by your personality
And the blue of your sunlit sky.
And sit on your rock,
And dry as we talk
About when we can fall in again.


-jenn long

My Job Is To Write Your Lucky Songs

My job is to write your lucky songs—
The ones that, when you hear them,
Take the lid right off your day,
And remind you all things are possible.
And you know you can sell it,
Find it, fix it, paint it better,
Than anyone else,
And more than that,
Your dreams can come to life.

Let the windows of inspiration
Open up above your head.
Lift up your eyes
And see where your help comes from.
Wander the hallway of ancient records,
And decipher the tree of knowledge.
Understand the “worth the living” part,
And leave the rest behind.

Listen to your lucky song
Until you have no need for it—
Until you walk upright in the day
When you have no need for a teacher.
Then open your eyes to the ignorance of night,
And see within it the light of all wisdom,
And stand on the unchanged shore of eternity.


-jenn long

Grip Me, O Thought!

Grip me, O Thought,
But let me think thee
In a language I clearly understand.
Unfold yourself simply,
Every fold into my hand.
Feed my eye.
Color my visions.
Dream your dreams into my sand,
And may they grow
A hundred fold,
As I live and breathe
And stand.


-jenn long
I walked a trail in the morning breeze.
The scent of your fingers ran through my hair.
I could still feel your hands on me
With every breathing step.

I went back to bed at noon,
Just so I could return to the dream-
The scene of my instantaneous spoiling,
The place where sweetness dawned.

And now the sun is warming me,
And an effervescent glow
Remains to shine
Til next time.
Such is a life full of love.

-jenn long

O Moon

Come to me you beautiful wreck.
Wash up on my shore.
Lay your weary head upon my sand.
Die a thousand deaths tonight
To wake up and be free.
You know the morning is at hand.

Turn your back on the mighty sun,
And shine on me,  O Moon.
I want your silver beams to fall.
Whisper the secrets of the ancient place and time.
I want to understand it all.

Won't you make the rivers come to me?
Won't you make the rivers run to me?
I've survived the shipwreck and the sea.

Won't you make the rivers run to me?

Your words just matter more to me, O Moon.
They drop plumb line to my soul.
They strike a harmony,
Twin fiddles in my heart.
They mean much more to me than gold.

So teach me softly about love, Sweet Moon—
Sweet lessons I have never learned.
Pull all the tides away so at Last I can be free.
Make all my shallow rivers run.

Won't you make the rivers run to me?
Won't you make the rivers run to me?
I've survived the shipwreck and the sea.
Won't you make the rivers come to me?

There is a light in the darkness,
And it is you, O Moon.
Your cool side has more power than the sun.
You pull the tides away
Till the shoreline wants to cry.
You make the shallow rivers run.

I've survived the shipwreck and the sea.
Won't you make the rivers come to me?


-jenn long