I’m empty today,
Just letting life blow through me.
It’s nice
To feel my heart beat,
To breathe,
To be alive,
To love,
To be loved,
By you.
The sun rose beautifully this morning,
Right on time.
Flowers are blooming all over the planet.
My life is here
Quietly blossoming,
Whether anyone is here to smell
This living fragrance that is me
Or not.
I’m not going to let anything ruin my day
Or my awareness that Life
Is shedding its beauty around me
And inside of me, today.
Love and hugs to you,
jenn
I hear the scratch of my neighbor raking leaves.
But how that that be?
They brought him, yesterday, from the hospital
In an ambulance to die at home.
I hesitate to test my belief in ghosts,
But curiosity gets the best of me.
I peek over the garden gate
To see his two stepsons, each with a rake,
Scratching determinedly, piling leaves.
And thru the sunlight on the pane,
I barely see my neighbor, lying
On a bed they’ve made him
By the big south picture window.
He’s looking out, smiling.
-jenn
Happy Birthday
All life breathes in.
All life breathes out.
Let’s exhale together tonight,
Blow out the candles,
Eat the cake in the dark,
Together.
We can feed one another
The sweetness of the icing
In the deep blackness of the night,
Not even knowing where our faces are.
Where is your mouth?
Let me find it.
Let me feed you this delicious cake.
Let me feel your heart pound
And the unmistakable sigh
Of your delectable contentment.
-jenn
What about me?
I used to worry about ‘what about me,’
Until I saw how futile it was.
I’m only a figment of my own imagination,
(And yours).
I’m a mirage on the horizon.
Here today,
And forget about tomorrow,
I’m gone in a second.
So why should I fret
About what I shall eat,
When I became this way
By concentrating on the beginningless empty spaces
That exist, between my electrons
And my protons.
I’m only here so you can see into the future
And promptly forget about it,
And simply do whatever is needed today.
Because, although it seems my Love for you
Is only a vacuous form in the air,
In truth it is a deep intelligence
That is settling in on you,
To bring you out of inertia.
I’m only here
To cheer you on,
So that, if there is some small chance
For you to seize the happiness
And bliss that already exists
In the beginningless empty spaces of your life,
You may take it.
-jenn
My friends tell me that I should play the game,
Withhold my love
Til you call out my name,
(Or don’t know yours.)
But that is not the nature of my heart.
I’m not on stop and start mode,
And I’m not a fake.
I’m not here for what I can take,
But only what I might give to you.
It’s all I know.
It’s not a show.
It’s not a game.
Blame my roots,
Or blame me, if you will,
But I’m still here,
And I am playing,
Always playing, having fun,
Just at a different sort of game.
Mine is not,
“Catch me if you can,”
But, rather called,
“I love you all the time.”
So, now what?
-jenn
My love,
I feel today, in this land of death,
That I am living just for you,
That I was born to love you,
That I smile
Only because
You need me to,
So that you can realize,
So you can know how wanted you are,
How I love you so.
The deep bass fiddle plays tonight,
And suddenly my breath
Is taken away
At the sight of you.
How you do love me!
How I know your gentle ways,
The power of your sensitivity.
Come and smile with me.
Sway to the beautiful music.
Let’s be in love
Through all these silly holidays
And stay that way
Forevermore.
-jenn
I’ve become woodsy.
I go and play in the forest again
As I did when I was young.
The smell of the trees growing up through the earth
Stimulates me.
The woodland floor is littered with fallen leaves and sticks,
And the creaking of my footsteps
Warns the animals to stay away from me.
I am alone.
And after days here by myself,
Words have lost their meanings.
I have forgotten what emotions these sounds I hear
Are supposed to invoke in my mind.
So the wind is.
So, the sounds of birds and insects.
So the muddy puddle that was my heart
Has cleared.
-jenn
To Hermit, or Not To Hermit
I’m nothing but an empty shell.
A hermit crab did once upon a time
House himself in me.
But now I see him moving on.
He’s much too big for me,
Outgrown this covering.
He is off to find something roomier.
Or maybe it is I who am the crab?
Maybe the drab shell has infringed upon
The larger ways I need to carry on, now?
Maybe that is me I see, moving on?
Or maybe truly I’m the shell,
Passively waiting for another small crab
To come and dwell in me, again?
My identity has come loose,
And I’m confused for now,
Just what part of the world I am?
And whether I’m the hermit crab shell
Or the hermit crab, itself,
Who can say?
Who can guess?
But either way, I’m a hermit, nonetheless.
-jenn
Tell Me, About Yourself, he said.
I used to live in a glass home.
But now I live in a plastic dome
In my underwear.
I used to be a lot of things:
A wife a mother, a string theorist,
But not anymore.
I’m nothing it seems.
But I’m happier this way.
Maybe I’ve become a sentient being.
Maybe I’ve just lost my way.
Maybe I’ve found it.
What can I say?
I’m truly a no one from nowhere
Who does nothing.
But I’m so much happier this way.
-jenn
Starstruck
Are you trying to seduce me,
Like a star
That sines in my night?
I see it glimmer from afar,
But it has a certain je ne sais quoi.
It holds my attention quietly.
And now I close my eyes.
I stand on my porch,
But I can still see
You, glimmering at me.
It’s time for me to go to bed,
But I’m standing here staring at you instead.
The cool night air is charming me,
And your easy going smile disarms me.
I’m closing my eyes as I walk back in.
I’m going to keep them closed.
I hope I don’t walk into a wall, again,
But it might be worth it, just to see,
If I can carry this starry vision of you
To bed with me, tonight.
-jenn
Over
The notes are dropping from the band,
The tones,
Encapsulated wishful thinking.
They pop like bubbles on my skin
And rush up my spine,
Straight to my brain,
To tell me what he said about me.
“I don’t care,” my brain replies.
This reply drops, like a bomb,
Of self awareness and authority,
Back down my spine and out each nerve.
My appendages all breathe
A sigh of hope and sweet relief.
“I think it’s finally over,” they concur.
-jenn
The Wind Blows
The wind blows hot.
The wind blows cold.
“Which way is the world turning, mama?”
My son asks me.
And I don’t know.
“Well,” he continues,
“If the scientists at nasa want to shoot
A rocket to the sun at night,
Which way it up?
Which way down?”
“I’m thinking,” I say, but that’s not true.
I quit dissecting long ago.
Now all I know is,
The winds blow hot,
The winds blow cold.
It doesn’t matter.
It’s all the same to me.
-jenn
