I remember the summer when I was ten,

The first time I’d ridden a bike on a paved road.

A friend of mine, named Jill,

Lived in Cross Cut,

Something of a ghost town then,

But it had been an oil boom town

Deep in the heart of Texas.

It was easy to pedal and ride.

We stayed outside all day on our bikes,

And we, not once, saw a car or a person,

Just jackrabbits, and one lazy possum 

Came out at dusk and scared us,

So we knew it was time to go home.

I spent the night with her and her family,

And in the morning they introduced me

To pancakes with peanut butter on them

And store bought maple syrup.

And I told my family about it when I got home,

And we decided they must be

The richest ghosts in the ghost town.

And this afternoon, I’m riding my bike,

Thinking of you, (yes you),

And the way the world is going now,

And the way the wind is blowing,

I’m pretty sure this is a ghost town, too,

For I don’t see anybody moving around.

The streets are empty and the sidewalks are brown,

And the sky is an eerie shade of blue.

But maybe I’ll go spend the night with a friend,

And maybe I’ll have something new for breakfast again,

Like I did back then, and if I do,

Maybe I’ll come back and tell you ghosts all about it.

-jenn

 I’m worried about the world going to hell in a handcart.

I ruminate on the numerous 

And various ways it could do that.

I’m riding my bike and come to a turning place.

I could go this way, or I could go that.

I choose to go a further route

That takes me by a pasture

Where a playa lake buzzes 

With natural activity.

The birds remind me 

That it’s going to be okay.

The leaves of grass speak Whitman to me

And suggest other poetry,

And that mushroom that popped up overnight 

Reminds me that

There are things I do not like to eat.

I remember my baby brother’s birthday dinner,

When they offered him a plate of spaghetti,

And he looked at it without taking it.

“I don’t like mushrooms,” he said.

“Those aren’t mushrooms,” Mother lied.

“Those are... um..... green beans.”

“I don’t like green beans,” he replied,

And whirled about and ran back outside to play.

It was his birthday, for gods sake,

And he didn’t even get to have any cake,

Because he hadn’t eaten his spaghetti.

I sigh,

And bravely onward go.

The world went to hell in a handcart 

A long time ago,

But that’s okay.

-jenn

 It was a difficult night

When planets oppose one another,

And the stars have tears in their eyes.

He was like fire,

And I was like ice,

But as the conversation wore on,

More and more of the same old thing,

I melted and disappeared from sight.

I’m dripping down, now, towards the 

Cracks in the floor boards.

It’s really quite a welcoming relief.

I’m already planning a tea party, there,

With whatever may be living beneath this.

Maybe there’s an old teddy bear,

Or bugs or dust bunnies who will join me?

Or what if I just have my tea alone?

Either way, I’ll be entertaining new feelings,

And I’m going to learn a new approach 

From following my new direction.

Maybe, even melted here, I’ll see

An uncommon way out of a mindless rut,

Switch up my routine, and just be happy.

But I’m still hoping, there may be some creature,

Some new life-form I’ve never heard of, 

To come and share this new leaf I’m turning, 

Or at the very least,

Someone,or something, to enjoy

A spot of hot tea with me, 

And a lively conversation?

-jenn

 There are two roads to the Sun.

On one of them,

The wax between your wings can melt, and you can fall,

And on the other, your feathers develop 

A lighter sense of air,

And you don’t care anymore.

But if you did, you’d notice that,

At some point on your journey,

A fat, cherubimic cushion of love

Had enveloped you somewhere on the way.

Can you say what it is that made you want

To visit the sun in the first place?

Can you tell if you’re in heaven or hell?

And now, forget about your wings.

It’s seems that you, yourself, are melting.

Love has won,

And now you’re aware.

There’s really only one way to the Sun.

But where are you?

Swallowed by heat and an auspicious lack of air,

And something stronger than death has you,

The strange breath of life-giving sex

Is breathing you!

Breeding you, kneading you into

Bread, baking you, eating you

Digesting your essence,

Taking you apart and using you

To energize her life for fun!

And now you’re not even sure.

Did you make it to the sun,

Or not?

-jenn

 The aspen trees grow along the snow fed river.

They tremble at the slightest glance,

But stand expectantly,

The virgin forest.

It is beautiful to feel beautiful,

To long to be touched.

The aspens shiver at the exhilarating breath

The wind’s mere exhales.

Their supple leaves whisper,

“Thank you. Thank you,”

As their flattened petioles dance.

And they sigh,

“Ohhhh my.

Oh my, oh my goodness,

Yessssss...”

-jenn

 I remember what I used to be,

When I was sweet,

Before injury carved me

Into something it could use,

A ruse to confound and control.

But I have found a way to renew my soul.

I’m regressing back into the wild and beautiful thing

That grew on the side of the mountain,

The vine that knew

How to dig its roots deep through the rocks and soil,

How to turn its leaves to the morning sun

And follow it til day was done,

And sleep and dream and rest

And be 

At peace

And sweet again.

🌸😁🌸

-jenn

 She gives me the evil eye

As I walk by.

Why, I do not know,

Or do I?

I take it like chemo

And direct it to the parts of my body that ache,

And let it kill the pain inside of me.

And then I take it’s healing force

And return it to her

To heal her hurts.

And does she know

I’m returning good for evil?

Does she care?

Will she see

She has been miraculously cured

Of something 

Because a random act of love

Has set her free?

I dont know,

But this I do

In remembrance of

The few loving souls 

Who’ve graced this planet

And taught me

It’s the way.

-jenn