A thousand years ago
A culture flourished here
His body washed up now
From all the rain
Buried in a mound
At the age of 40 years
A man who lived his life
Here on these plains.

They called it the new world
But it is not so new
There were people here from long ago
They called it the virgin land
And offered it to you
But bodies buried here will let you know

Pyramids and ancient carvings
Called by other names
People made to seem like savages
So that those who came out west
Would feel no guilt or shame
For taking turf and leaving damages

But there were people living here
One thousand years ago
Eight thousand years ago
And before 'time'
And just whose land you're standing on
You may never know
Until you climb the mounds
And drop your pride

-jenn

I've read enough to know that dialogue is dangerous with you.
Your conversations are monologues in disguise.
And your feet are planted firmly in irrationality,
Though you seem to be the poster child for logic.

But when the day with you is done
And feelings weighed,
Your side of the scale will fly
With nothing on it,
While mine will drag with heavy bags of
Something I can't put my finger on.

And so tonight my soliloquy
Is short,
To put up with your shit
Or not.
And tonight, I think , "Not,"
Therefore, I am.

- jenn

If my heart is dry,
It's because it comes from an arid climate,
And if it waterlogs in rain and love,
It's because it learned to get by on barely enough,
And if I can't accept sweet invitations,
It's because salt flats are all I've ever known.

But if you can stand in the rain and watch,
You'll see that I'm the son
That told the father, "no,"
But then went and did what he'd asked me to do,
And in-line with this form of obedience,
I'm listening,
And I will be there
In the selfsame hour
You wish for me.

-jenn

I was mad at you until
I saw you riding your bike upside down
Your knees pumping up almost to your ears
And elbows almost akimbo
Then I started to feel sorry for you
For I saw you were trying to get somewhere

They say one never forgets how to ride a bike
And maybe one can't forget
Even how to ride one wrong
It makes me question the depth of free will
But I think you ought to know better

But suddenly my fear of you
Has melted into something else
And I will discern in my own good time
What this emotion is
But for now its comical
And the relief liberates me
And I've needed a dose of this best medicine
For a very long time

-jenn

I will sing tonight a song of the hills
A prayer from my deepest hearts cry
I will sing my love of the winding Trail
The Cherokees lullaby

Chorus: Hush my baby hush little baby
Please don't cry tonight
Tomorrow we will cry when the sun comes up
So our tears can shine in the light

The stars don't care they are too far away
The ancestors too far gone
Expose your shame to the light of day
Our only hope is the Sun


To cry in the night is a shameful thing
Like a dream one fears to tell
But to cry in the day is brave and right
And preserves generations from Hell

Damn! the nights go slow
When you're not here and I'm not there,
And the world keeps turning morning somewhere else.
And time flies when one is having fun,
But when one is lonesome
And another is, too,
And that damn speed of light has to be the constant,
And space, we haven't figured yet,
As to how to bend or warp or wormhole it the way we want it to be,
And so, my TrueLove,
Something has to give.
And so, it's you,
And so, it 's me,
And, alas,
Time has a special relativity
That only physics can describe
Without a lump in it's throat.

-jenn long

You put too much pressure on the corn.
It's gonna pop.
But it's not popcorn,
So it's just gonna mush from it's kernel.
But it's not cream corn,
And there is no butter,
So, it's just gonna be a mess.

-jenn