Shall I compare you to a rose?

A rose is much too tame,

And you are wild as a bobcat

That fucks amidst the thickets and the thorns.

And I cannot tell which pricks come from your claws or teeth or briars,

But all of it is good.

So turn me now and anthropomorph,

And look me in the eye

While you purr.

And I will look you in the eye, too.

-jenn

I have wondered where you are now,

And the cosmos answers me.

A flash in my mind reveals today

You are a litter of rabbits just born,

Hidden in the winter leaves,

And your spirit, innocent and new,

Sleeps curled up and warm and nurses

From the great and living mother.

And after this you may exist for only a second or two,

Maybe a day as a living sac of spider eggs.

And from there you may sprout 

As a mushroom in the forest,

That pops up from nowhere over night.

My hope is that you will thrive in every experience of life,

Though selfishly I pray,

That sometime when your time has come to live again,

That it will be my time to live again too,

And I will find you,

And live again with you.

-jenn

My dreams show me the Reality

In terms I understand.

Great archetypal pictures

Say millennial thousand words.

Clarity emerges with the colors orange and green and blue,

And the love that always follows

Is the dynamic truth.

Everything else disappears 

In flames or floods or winds.

Everything else is illusion

Except the great charisma of Love.

-jenn 

I dreamed of you like a fox

That runs just ahead of the night.

Your coat was a red and orange flame

And lit your path across the dark sky.

You are fast and strong and smart

And beautiful,

And the stars are envious.

They can barely bare to look at you.

They stand aloof and cold from a long way off

And try not to compare themselves.

But one comet stares,

Head fully turned,

And dares you to turn, too.

It longs to crash into the earth

Alongside your lovely forest,

Just to see,

Just to know

How dazzling you really are

In person. 

-jenn

More and more I find my life to be a dream

That flows over a great paddle wheel.

It dips and splashes and gets caught up

And goes around the wheel again,

And part of it moves on,

And part of it stays in the great commotion.

And I am torn between what I perceive is me.

Is it the part that went in peace,

Flowing naturally down the stream?

Or is it the part where my heart seems to want to be,

Here in the turning, churning energy of the great wheel?

Maybe I'm still both,

Hovering in evaporation,

A great chiasm between

All the things I want to be

And all the things I am.

-jenn

You can't find a way that works

And stick to that your whole life through.

The way that works will wander off 

And leave you far behind.

You will become disingenuous,

Your hairstyle dated.

The face you plaster on yourself

Will be an obvious fake.

The way that works will keep you guessing,

And thereby, will promote a youthful appearance,

One marked by innocent curiosity 

And love of discovery.

If you can flow with the way that works

Along the bends and turns of life,

Through places that are beautiful,

And through the places that you feel you shouldn't have to go,

Maybe one day the light will dawn

On the intense string of heartbeats, 

That living your exact journey has quite been,

Your precise attempt at living the way that works for you.

-jenn

The Spider doesn't ask for help

Or ask consent or approval.

When the web is right to her, it's right.

The Spider doesn't join a team

Or hunt in a pack like a lion,

But self sufficiency is her only motto.

And after the ambush had taken place,

She sits back and has a cigarette,

Or maybe two, before she spins a silken egg sac

Where she will lay her eggs,

And spin and spin until another web appears,

Then retract back in the dark recesses

That the world provides

For her to think

And write her poetry.

-jenn

I am there in the room

With a bird's eye view

Of eighteen monks

Sitting round a square table.

They laugh and talk all at once

Like a gaggle of geese.

Occasionally a raucous one

Will slap his forearm 

Down in front of him,

And from there, round the table,

Random arms will flap,

As if a fly were buzzing endangered.

As I watch the motion circle the square,

And listen to the conversation turn,

A dark dot emerges on the roof,

And I climb out of the whole that it produces.

For I am not a fly on the wall,

But a spider on the great mandala ceiling.

And I am the one the monks rejected.

I am the one the world says no to,

But I am the one that spins the web for the fates.

I am the one who made the twins

And put them to singing at the poles

To keep the entire earth in its balanced way.

And I am the one who loves the people.

I am the one who saves them.

I am the spider woman,

And the keeper of the lore.

-jenn

There's a nail in the sky that the moon hangs on,

And a place on it close to the wall,

Where two grooves are worn flat,

And you and I come to sit here.

The world is going round and round.

Everything is really.

And yet it's not.

But this is the place where you live now,

And you have told me that I can come and go freely.

And so I will.

But hold me tonight in the light of this weird moon.

It shines at such a different angle from here.

I know everything will be all right

When you tell me it will,

And I know everything always is

When I'm with you.

So thank you, weird moon,

For shining so weird,

And thank you, weird nail in the sky.

And thank you, weird wall,

Whatever you are that holds this nail up,

And the wires the weird moon hangs down from.

But most of all,

Thank you,

You.

I Love You.

-jenn

I am there in the room

With a bird's eye view

Of eighteen monks

Sitting round a square table.

They laugh and talk all at once

Like a gaggle of geese.

Occasionally a raucous one

Will slap his forearm 

Down in front of him,

And round the table 

Random arms will flap,

As if a fly were buzzing endangered.

As I watch the motion circle the square,

And listen to the conversation turn,

A dark dot emerges on the roof,

And I climb out of the whole it produces.

For I am not a fly on the wall,

But a spider on the ceiling.

And I am the one the monks rejected.

I am the one the world says no to,

But I am the one that spins the web for the fates.

I am the one who made the twins

And put them to singing at the poles

To keep the entire earth in its balanced way.

And I am the one who loves the people.

I am the one who saves them.

I am the spider woman

And the keeper of the lore.

-jenn

I meditate in the middle of a meditation.

I dream I'm sitting cross legged,

And I pretend to say ommmmmm.

It comes out more like, "uhhhhhhh."

And then I see your face again,

As sweeet as honey to the tongue,

As bright as the smile of many rainbows,

As dazzling as the sun that breaks through clouds of darkest rain.

And then I wake and realize

I'm contemplating again.

Sri will chide me.

He tries to teach me how to concentrate,

Then shift the gears of my mind to meditate.

He doesn't think I'll ever make it to contemplate,

But I'm already there,

Without knowing how.

-jenn

I struggle to make myself one with the dust of the earth,

As Lao Tzu recommends

To be the primal virtue,

In perfect flow with the Tao,

And the mother of the ten thousand things.

But I fight the urge to giggle,

Until I can't fight it anymore,

And the small trickle of joy

Dissolves me into a heart of laughter.

Sometimes in my zone of effervescence,

A tiny doubt tries to take me

To a somber, more intelligent place.

But I have learned not to go there.

I've decided that maybe I was born this way,

And maybe I was born for this purpose,

And maybe here, in this silly land

Of flowers and sunshine,

I am queen and I reign with a loving scepter,

And crown all comers with a crown of many crowns,

And recognize them as dear lovers 

And fellow sovereigns.

-jenn

If you want to tell others what to do

And have them do it,

Then tell them to do what they want,

And tell them to do the best they can,

Because this is what the whole world does.

And somewhere between the tied off ends of those two points,

The arrow fits onto the string,

And in the great release of it all,

Our lives fling out together

To hit or miss the marks we've spied.

And others may have eyed our results,

And judged us to have missed the mark, and sinned,

But at least we tried,

And it may be better to try and fail

In our own dharma,

Than to succeed in something we never wanted,

And be confused by the war inside our karma,

And never to know what could have made the difference.

-jenn

Ask not for whom the Bell tolls,

And don't ask too many other questions either.

You might not want to know the answer.

But if you search your heart within,

You might find a resolution you can live with,

The one that says nothing ever really changes.

Nothing has ever changed and nothing ever will.

And if in finding this you find great peace,

You can release the questions

To the custody of the very answers

That you previously sought,

And go and make bail on any of the resolutions

You've ever had to "Know Thyself,"

And let yourself be you.

-jenn

I was about to be passed over,

And it wasn't by the angel of death.

It was for a promotion I thought I deserved.

But there was this guy there,

And he wasn't doin so good,

And the mansger thought he'd give the promotion to him

To see if it would motivate him to

Do better.

I was already "doin better," the manager told me when I asked him about why I'd been left out.

I was already motivated 

And already doin a heckuva job.

And yet, company stats revealed that out of 35 locations,

All the 82 sales managers were men

Except for one,

And all of the 35 general managers

Were also male.

And since many, if not all, their so-called meetings

Were held at country clubs or stripper bars,

They planned to keep it just that way.

So I guess the angel of death did come

It killed my motivation to do better

And any desire I might have had

To make any more money 

For myself,

Or for them,

Anymore.

-jenn

Good mothers take a vow of silence

And let their children speak.

When children can utter their dreams without interference,

Something magic happens,

And sometimes even the wildest dreams can come true.

Good mothers postpone judgment

For now and for forever,

So that their children feel unconditional support,

And so that their children know that they are loved 

By and through the highest source of love 

The universe can offer:

The cosmic alma mater of 

The lady of the closed mouth and the open mind.

-jenn

If we all walked neckid like chimpanzees,

We wouldn't worry bout hairy knees.

We would all stand and look and stare

At what everybody's got down there

And out behind.

And we would know by the blush-like glow,

Who was in heat, and who we should leave alone

For the time being,

Until, unbeknownst to them,

They come in heat too, and start looking for a hubcap

To steal or someone to screw,

But would we worry about their mind?

Or whether our verbs and subjects agree,

Or if we've used language inclusively,

Or if we've used language at all?

Or would we know all we need to know

To perpetuate our DNA,

To live now and maybe see another day

To nibble one another and rinds?

-jenn

"Time" is just "T," without "I" and "me,"

And "minute" can be misconstrued,

As minute particles of some other package of light,

Traveling day and night like a sovereign citizen.

But "hours" could be "ours,"

If we could try

And drop the "H,"

But if we knew "Y,"

Then "hours" could be "yours,"

And Time could fly forever.

-jenn

Mighty nice Dipper you have there, Polaris.
His feet sit atop the fine clouds,
His head, way up
In the heart of some lucky galaxy
Where the moons are even called stars.
And look at him!
Pouring out
Milky Way Magic
And stardust
On lovestruck moths
Who flutter like punch drunk sailors
In oversized painting smocks.
And will they go all Fred Astaire
And dance in the pouring down rain?
And glitter like diamond cufflinks
At the sight of him again?
(god I hope so....)

But I am not jealous of you, Polaris,
And tho my feet are on the ground,
My head is way up
In the clouds,
And when I tiptoe,
I can reach
The tips of the Dipper's winsome feet,
And I can kiss them
With my mouth,
And worship til the north turns south
And both our cups have poured plum out,
And the Pleiades finally sigh.

Sometimes I want to live like this,
Without all the wrappers,
Without tin foil,
Walking through the forest with no pack on my back,
Grazing on the edible things,
Putting back a little,  dried on the stems,
To conserve through winter's darkened spell
And the months where food would be scarce.
Or maybe I could just hibernate,
And you could love me while I sleep,
And I could sleep, even through the pregnancy.
I'd wake bewildered at my swollen tel,
And enlivened, bring forth--
A new kind of heirloom seed.

When you go crazy
Can I come too?
For I melt a little
At the sight of you,
And if we could
get face to face,
I could get sucked in
To your warped space
And let the orbit begin.

But what with the spinning
And gamma rays,
I can't be held for what goes and what stays,
But maybe we could have some fun?
Maybe we’ll dance,
Maybe we’ll run,
Or maybe we’ll just lie on our backs in the sand
and look down
On the earth
And the sun?

The Apocalypse 

The hawks moved into our neighborhood,

And slowly, but surely, the squirrels disappeared.

Finally there were only two, and it was left up to them to repopulate the world.

They considered this the upside to the Apocalypse,

And got to work on it right away,

And now it's kind of got me thinking,

One could learn a lot from a squirrel.

-jenn

If you look a long time at dog poop,

You might get dung in your eye,

But if you look a little longer,

And get a microscope,

You could  get a phd

And write a treatise

Regarding the entire inner mechanics

And digestive works of the canine.

-jenn

Store up for yourselves great Love Abundances

During the spring and with Summer Hay,

So that when Winter turns with its scarcity

You can withdraw deposits from May

And breathe deep floral bouquets of tender

Loving words and smiles and care,

So when you close your eyes you'll see

That Love never dies, that Love is still There,

Always loving you.

-jenn

I fight the urge of first response

To be angry and ugly.

A fire that burns across the short-grass plains of my own discontent

Is slowly snuffed by a gentle rain

Of a greater hidden quiet urge

To be beautiful and big

And happy.

And eventually even this black moment 

Will disappear in the lively green of new growth

And understanding 

But I will ever be thankful for it.

-jenn

Now I'm gonna show my age.

My favorite cassette tape to play in my car

Was one I recorded on my little gravadora cassette-recorder radio.

A disco show every Friday night

From 98.3 outta San Antonio!

Hot chocolate to the soul!

Makin your drive home worth it!

Makin you wanna go out after and work it

To the tune of you should be dancin!

You dropped the bomb on me, baby!

And George benson's give me the night!

Makin everything outta sight

All right!

And good enough!

Makin it all to the tune

Of love!

And while I'm sittin here waiting for 3 2 1,

So I can skip this ad on YouTube

To hear a little rhythm and blues,

I'm thinkin I sure wish I still had that old cassette recording

And something ta play it on,

Because even it's ads we're good.

-jenn 

It's a beautiful night,

And the velvet of it is reflected

From somewhere deep in the black of your eyes.

The window is open

And the night has crawled in.

It curls up on your pillow,

But it wants to yawn,

And in a minute it will.

It will stretch out to take over the bed

About the time I ease down over you

And let my nipple drop into your open mouth.

-jenn