It's good to be upside down,
An anti-gravity effect.
Work to pull your smile up
Into a frown.
Let your blood rush
Out of your feet,
Down, into your head.
Exert, so you can think
More clearly
Of what is right,
What is wrong.

If you can't make yourself
Invert,
You should allow someone
To shake you down!
String you up by your toes
And rattle the spare change
Out of your hide.
See what you've really got inside,
What you're made of.
Do you have one dream left,
Folded up in your pocket?
What are you afraid of?
That something true
Might bubble up or down out of you?
Or that it might only pass
Like gas?

If you cartwheel now
You might let go
Of the why's, the how's, the who's,
And get a grip on you.
You could love something so unique and kind.
Find something beautiful
And so new
From a different point of view,
From some great unexplored cavernous corner
Of your own mind.

-jenn

I'm grazing my way to a spring fed creek
Through a green and sunlit meadow.
I stop in the shade and stretch my neck
To nibble a grainy pear.
And after I've had a drink,
I flop in the wet sand at the bend
And wallow in the cool mud
I find there.

And tonight I will gallop
Through your mind
And rear up on my hind feet
And come down hard
On the floor boards under your bed posts,
And rattle your window panes.

But tomorrow, when the sun comes up,
None of it will matter,
And you can wipe me from your mind
Like one tear from your eyes.
Forget the thunder,
But maybe you can think of me
Sometime, when it rains.

-jenn

I could age twenty years in a day
With a good haircut,
Thirty with a bad one.
I wouldn't look like an old lady any more,
I could look like a little old man.
And if I stopped to shop at Steinmart,
I could fly with the hairless and hipless,
And smell like old money
And Botox and spray-on tan.
But I think I'll just dare to walk
Out into the elements,
Without any sunscreen,
Without a headband,
Hatless, and exposed
To the mysteries of a yellow sun
That fades my clothes
And darkens my native skin.

And if I'm lucky, my mind will stray
Like my hair,
And I will fly away to that place
Where I lose all consciousness of my self,
And yet gain its keen awareness,
For there, in the desert of my own soul,
My face will bloom like a cactus flower,
And I will have peace.

-jenn

Come and steal my glory, Crow.
Descend upon me,
And search me for goodness.
Take your time
And look thoroughly
Til you're done
And satisfied
That there is none.

I will stand with both arms out
While you creep and crawl upon me.
Your bright eye suspiciously
Casting it's shine on mine.
My eyes will swallow the light from yours,
And soak up pleasure from every turn
Of your tiny feet
Walking across my skin.

And when you're finished,
I will nod and raise my eyebrows
Without a word,
But you will feel my,
"I told you so."
And I will never show a quiver
Or a goose-bump,
But I can promise,
I've enjoyed every minute of you searching me.

-jenn

I wish there was something
That meant something to me,
Some old family heirloom
Or piece of jewelry
That I could hold in my hand tonight,
And smile to know
That my memories were as solid
As my desire to go,
To run away from anything
That ever reminds me of home.

But one by one, as my people have passed,
Other descendants who were there,
Or who had the nerve to ask
For the things they wanted,
Received, and I stand,
Still unwilling to ask,
Unwilling to believe in things,
But wondering,
If holding a bauble could be better
Than remembering
The smell of ginger and nutmeg
Coming from my Grandma's cookie jar.

-jenn

He's the type that likes to cry out,
"Tragggggedddeeee!"
Just a few seconds before the BeeGees do
In the chorus of their song
By the same title.
He thinks it makes him look smart,
That he knows ahead of time
What the words are,
But really, he's just ruining it
For the rest of us.

He also thinks he knows exactly
What any of us are going to say
Before we say it,
And so he goes ahead and says
Whatever he planned to say
Without ever listening
To see what anyone actually says.

He will never change his tune,
And maybe he will never know
Why no one likes to talk to him,
Why no one appreciates his unique arias
And one-sided conversations.

-jenn

This is no place for a lady to eat,
With it's greasy breading
And meat laden crumbs.
Ninety tv's blare all at once,
Accosting one's nervous systems
With sporting events and commercials,
Whose spokeswomen bare
Their buxomous cleavage
And behemoths chew
With their mouths wide open.

So I hope no one will find it
Unladylike of me
That I've hitched my skirt up
Here in the powder room,
And am crawling out of this open window.
I pause, not quite side saddle,
With both legs dangling in the alley,
Wishing I still had a good horse
I could whistle up.

-jenn