Saturday, October 31, 2015

I've got debris in my intake arm.
It's the closest thing to original sin
I've seen in quite some time.
But can I blame my car?
Is it then the driver's fault
Or an engineering failure?
Do I need to know?

Or should I just youtube it
And figure how to clean it out
And get back out to live in the passing lane?


My serpent mound is vulva soft
Composed of fallen leaves and grass
That I have brought and offered here,
Arms full every time.
And as I travel back for more,
Along a trail that's littered by
Decomposed fallen leaves and grass,
I see it's all the same.

The offering, the offered one,
The one that's left, the other one,
The me, the not me,
All part of the same great whole,
All part of the scriptures
That one doesn't need
When one has unction
And sees the Great Life lived everywhere.

I bought a season pass to celebration city,
Paid for it all by myself.
But when I got in,
They informed me that
The roller coaster was closed,
The ferris wheel was inoperable,
And the tunnel of love unemployed.

I just want it to feel good,
To rattle the windows down at the fun house,
To spin the cotton candy high
And get it everywhere.
I want to laugh
With my mouth wide open,
Giggle from the tips of my toenails
To the blondest parts of my hair on end,
With my pupils dilated and nostrils flaring,
And when it's all over, to do it again.

Is that too much to ask?


Friday, October 30, 2015

I dreamed of a car that was promised to me,
An orchard full of pecan trees
That sits on acres of sand that's to be mine,
Of a horse I shared with a brother I had,
And even of "my" own mother and dad,
And all the while it stormed
On my sadness and my fear.

And all the while the horse ran free,
And bucked and galloped beautifully.
I watched her prance as lightning danced
And pecans and rain fell down.
And then I knew
That nothing in this world is mine
Except the joy I feel when I shine
And prance through the storms
And the rain and the sun,
And enjoy my life til my work is done.

And then I'll go back from whence I came,
Where I belong, where even my name is mine,
Where all things have always been mine.


Monday, October 26, 2015

Come and draw equations
On the chalkboard of my heart
With your powdery anabolic chalk.
Doodle until the visions synthesize,
And in one grand swirl of exclamation,
Give expression to your love of me.
Then take your magic pen
And draw the markings on my skin
That you will find appealing
In the end.
Tattoo me with the secrets
And the x's
That mark the places where your treasure hides,
And I will go and take with me my
Extra diamonds,
And secretly,
Invest them there with you.


I spell your name with light and dark,
But the dark is silent.
I dreamed about you once
While wide awake.
But someone far wiser than myself
Explained it all so psychologically
That the picture of you in my head dissolved.
But when I went to sleep that night,
I saw the silent letters.
They began to dance and rearrange,
And as they moved,
A singing hush fell onto the dance floor.
The stars hummed,
And I remembered you.


Wednesday, October 21, 2015

I went to bed weighing 135
And woke up weighing 130.
I guess it was my dreams that evaporated.
I thought that they were bigger than that,
That they were large and magnanimous
And could cover the expanse of my vicissitudes.
But now I see that they are gone,
A trifling 80 ounces,
Nothing to lose a night 's sleep over,
Nothing to you.... Or to
But standing here now on the holy scales
Within the sacred equation I wonder,
If nothing is ever created or destroyed,
What weighs more,
A pound of feathers or a pound of lead?
And in the greater scheme of things,
Which is heavier,
Troubles or dreams?
And where in the universe did they disappear?
Oh well.
My pants sure zipped easier this morning.


Tuesday, October 20, 2015

I can imagine this place before houses,
Before the sidewalks and busy streets,
With only the prairie grasses blowing
And shadows of the native trees.

I can imagine the drylands shifting,
Changing the course of the river's line,
But how far do I have to go back
To see when you were mine.

I can't imagine a time before music,
A time before physics,
Space without rhyme
Where clouds hang like still life paintings,
But then I have no sense of real time.

I can remember bright super eight movies
Without any sound, and clothes on a line.
I remember this wind always blowing,
But I can't remember when you were mine.


Saturday, October 17, 2015

Come look into my naked face.
See me plain as day.
Search my eyes
For vestige of a race,
And see that none has ever been denied.
All of me is of the universe,
And universal is my plea to you,
To know and be known,
As simple as the rays of light
That shoot out from the living sun.

Appeal to me
As the orange does.
Peel yourself and
Set yourself apart,
And let me put you back together
With my teeth
In some strange and noble art form,
In a new way that you have never seen yourself,
And let the fractal shapes and signs
Live unto themselves and unto you.
Inspire the world,
And make us whole!

And this will be my promise in the wind,
That as birds sing
And rivers run so true
To join the ocean's great anonymity,
I, my friend, will always be for you.


Friday, October 16, 2015

I have always wanted to be exactly who I am today.
So thank you to everyone of you my friends, my family, my loved ones,
My enemies, my haters, my antagonists,
For all of you have contributed ingredients into this recipe that has made me exactly what I am, and I am thankful for every last one of you!

For the compliments, for the cut downs, for the encouragement, for the you-could-never-do-that-ers---
Thank you thank you thank you!

I love every last one of you

Come transcendent one,
Pick me up
Into the sun
Til I am warm and free.
But let me gaze into your silver pools,
I shiver,
And chills tingle again
On skin that was asleep.
I find something deep
Within me stirs.
I've pulled myself back
From the brink of love twice,
But now
I find I'm going down,
Drowning in some forgotten sea
Of yours.
I can smell you
On the salty breeze,
The intoxicating scent
Of Hermes Trismegistis
Turning lead to golden sand.
Come take my hand
And walk on it with me.


We were children playing in the park,
Until the night fell slowly on the ground.
In the darkness we slept high
Upon a rock,
And I was soft for you,
And you were hard.
And stardust lit upon us
And seeped in,
And changed the very nature of our souls,
And when we woke we found that we were grown,
Yet we stayed, for it was fun---
Children playing in the park.


Thursday, October 15, 2015

Ohhh my transcendental one,
You pick me up
Into the sun
And I am warm and free,
But if I stare into your silver pools,
I shiver,
And chills tingle again
On skin that was asleep.
I find something deep
Within me stirs.
I've pulled myself back
From the brink of love twice,
But now
I find I'm going down,
Drowning in some forgotten sea
Of yours.
And I can smell you
On the salty breeze,
The intoxicating scent
Of Hermes Trismegistis
Turning lead to golden sand.
Come take my hand
And walk on it with me.


Tuesday, October 13, 2015

I want to be so perfect for you
(But I'm not),
(But I'm not).
I want to
Be the night wind
You throw yourself to
When you sleep.

I want to catch the dandelion seeds
(That you blow),
(That you blow),
Plant them in the middle
Of my garden
Til they grow,
And bring you the yellow flowers
And the kisses, honey sweet,
Lay the velvet petals at your feet.

I want to be
The one you reach for
(In the night),
(In the night ),
Be the book you press yourself between
In the mornin light,
The pages that you turn
When you want to get it right.
Baby, dream,
Dream sweet dreams of me.


Saturday, October 10, 2015

The Geiger counter clicks away
Fast and furious
The closer I get go the utility room.
Everything is drawn out in here.
Spagettification has occurred.
It all seems to be coming from the dryer.
The clothing particles accelerated while going round and round,
And if I could reach the dryer door,
I could open and stop it,
But I can't get my stupid feet to move.
A part of my brain has taken over,
A diabolical genius,
That hopes somehow
If just one of your t-shirts
Could collide with a pair of my jeans,
The rainbow bridge of Asgard
Might reappear.


Friday, October 9, 2015

The Latin word for 'pussy' is 'pudenda,'
Which means 'something to be ashamed of.'
Which, literally, the Latins were much more technical and precise in their misogyny,
And they would have never ended their sentences with prepositions.
So, technically, it means,
'A thing deserving of shame.'

And here is where I will pause, and smile,
And tell you that it's OK,
Because we've come along way, baby!
But in truth I'm not sure we have.
I'm not sure we've come at all.
And I also think until we evolve as a species
So that babies are not conceived unless the woman has an orgasm too,
That we might be in trouble
Leaving it to love alone to make the world going around.
But I guess for now,
We can be happy that we've come far enough,
To be able to say the word 'pussy' in public,
And I guess we can take some comfort in knowing
That the Latin word for 'penis' is ...  'penis,'
Which means 'tail. '
So maybe us men and us women are all in this together after all.


He butt dialed me,
And I sat and listened for a long time.
I could hear the way he spoke
To other people when I wasn't around.
"He's really nice," I thought as I eavesdropped.
A gentle voice, an easy laugh, a quick wit,
A kind heart.
It made me love him even more.


Interview With A Midwife

"I wish I was white
Like you,
And didn't know nothin'
About birthin' no babies !
I wish I never had cut the cord
Or ever slap no baby's behind til it cry.
I wish I'd never seen some of these man
That got up in here and got these girls in the family way.
Makes me want to slap the world
And reattach it's umbilical cord,
Shove it back up in some primordial vagina from whence it came,
Back up into the womb to gestate some mo',
Cause it ain't ready.
It's premature,
And it ain't gonna make it, y'all,
Unless it has time to get right,
Develop up to a point
Where it can survive it's upbrangin'."


Thursday, October 8, 2015

I'd like to think he's crazy,
But I talk to myself, too.
I didn't feel the need to impress him,
But rather, the need not to.

If I could exist in a vacuum,
And feel everything else sucked away,
Until I was stripped bare
Of clothes
And hair,
Of likes and tastes and proclivities,
And simply be
Then I could be that one
That can stand alone
In your presence
And offer nothing,
Until you feel for yourself
That same stripping away.
Then you would be free, too.
And then,
We could talk
To each other.

- jenn

Monday, October 5, 2015

Just because it wasn't rotten yesterday
Doesn't mean it ain't bad today.
Things change ya know.
And there are certain things you should never eat by themselves,
Because once you get that undeniable whang in your mouth,
You can never find the taste palatable again,
Even when mixed with other things
You used to enjoy.

I personally never should have gotten a taste
Of this gluten-free crust
Without the sweet pecan pie filling,
Or religion
Without warm love.


Everybody's burning breakfast today.
I can smell the charred remains as I walk past house by house.
Must be that some breaking news on the television set
Caught people in the middle of scrambling their eggs,
Grilling their ham.
Someones even left the water running in the sink.
The drain has clogged and this trail of suds
Has trickled out the front right window.
This next house has milk spilling out it's front left,
Someone so stunned
While dousing their corn flakes
That they stand in perpetual pour.

And the two windows
From the two houses
Are two eyes on one face.
One cries milk,
The other suds,
But both weep as best they can
To cover the shock and sadness.

Or, someone is filming a very cheesy commercial,
Probably for the express purpose of next years Superbowl.


Saturday, October 3, 2015

There are those who walk amongst us
Who live in a coma based reality.
They like to fight and criticize
Things they know nothing about.
Something inside of them has formed
A delicate tipping point,
And they prefer to dump their animosities out on other people.

But I wish you'd seen the room before you entered it,
And noted the peace,
The  camaraderie,
The nonjudgmental encouragement
Of all of us others who acknowledge
That we, too, put our pants on one leg at a time.

You'd have seen that we didn't need a ramrod,
Or a head asshole,
Or even an assistant to the ramp supervisor.

We were actually doing just fine!

I want something for nothing!
Because the spirit of bum has got all over me.
I'm tired of livin somewhere between
The American dream and the American nightmare.
I don't even want to work for food!

But all these Bradford Pear Trees produce here
In the Chase Bank parking lot is leaves,
Inedible ones, I'm sure,
And the non-bearing mulberries stain  my point of view.
Nothing grows on my street except crabapples,
And nothin or no one tries to digest those
Until they ferment long enough
That a few reprobate squirrels decide
To get together and run along the fence intoxicated.

So smile, orphans, and be very happy,
To live in the mundane migrations
Where real food still grows.
And have no fear,
You will never have to strain your brain
Over a catchy sign
Designed to harvest spare change
From the good people who drive up and down Western Avenue
In their towncars.