I have texts on my phone from dead people,

And in between the gray and green 

Bubbles of what they said to me

And what I said to them,

Are heavy heavy drops 

Of uranium water words

I meant to say and couldn't.

They hang there by the edges now

Like wall flowers who,

For some strange reason,

Suddenly have the urge to dance.

And in this same perverse scheme,

They turn on me,

And want me to dance with them.

But this is the last dance, a slow dance,

And I barely know them,

But they're guilting me out on the floor.

And while they have a hold of me,

They push their cold lips to my ear

And whisper to me all the things

I should have said.

So please, hear me:

I'm very sorry if I've ever hurt you.

I love you.

-jenn

The diamond mind is far from wise.

It shines but it is hard.

It is sharp, and it can cut

Anything at anytime.

But a girl's best friend

Is always something that doesn't ring

So loud in her ears,

Or glare, but something inside her

That glows, something that knows her

Well enough to tell her

Where home is.

-jenn

Sweet winter fills us.

The earth is an ice cream cake,

Bridges are icing.

-jenn

Just when I think nobody loves me

And I'm looking out a gray window 

At an eternal winter day,

I get a call from my banker,

And he wants to talk turkey,

And even his gobble is a welcome noise to my ears.

He tells me my loan is coming through,

And I can buy my seed

And plant my cotton very soon,

And I say, "Well hell, Charlie!

I don't care what anybody else

Says about you! You can be

My hoss if you NEVER win a race!"

-jenn

If I fight my nature, what will I be?

How will my soul recognize me?

So yes, I'm silly! I dance! I flirt!

I dream, and I'm not serious enough

For so many of you.

I want to travel. I want to go

And see new things and try new foods,

And do new things and enjoy life.

So sue me, or do me a favor,

And let me live under the same star

That I was born under,

And live your best life under yours,

I want to feel at home somewhere

In this vast universe. Please?

-jenn 

I'm going to Ipswich for breakfast,

Ipswich by the sea.

I'll catch myself a salty fish

And have a spot of tea.

And maybe I won't eat the fish.

Maybe I will find it

To be a brilliant conversationalist 

And make it a friend of mine.

And maybe it will tell me

The secrets of the sea,

If there are really mermaids,

And what conspiracy has kept

The Silkies under wraps

Of the vast oceanic folds,

And where the sunken treasures be,

And other things untold

Or long forgotten by the travails of man.

So I long to find the salty fish

And catch it if I can.

-jenn

Interview Interrupted

They asked if I had experience as a nurse,

And my eyes got big and I had to giggle,

When I admitted that I didn't,

And furthermore, in thinking

Of just how different I was 

From my nurse friends I know,

I thought I might as well end the interview with a crash

And a bang, and that a laugh was needed here,

And so I told them I did have experience with breastfeeding.

-jenn

My children tell me "what I should've done,"

And thus I know what the cool kids are doing.

I know what to say next time

Someone tells me to pull my socks up,

And I'm not wearing any!

My parents used to tell me what I should've done, too,

And that is how I knew 

What the cool kids were NOT doing!

But, alas, I have listened to the voices of too many critics,

And have wound up at Ham-a-lot

While aiming for Camelot.

I have one arrow left in my quiver!

I'll shoot it myself at my own design,

And hit or miss, receive blame or credit,

For to err is human, to forgive, divine!

-jenn

Some people have ancestors 

To worship and adore,

To watch over them

And guide them,

To inspire them to do great things

And protect them from all harm.

My ancestors died on the Trail of Tears

And gave up

Their ghosts so hard that even their spirits are hard to find.

So come

And love me,

For I am orphaned.

Come and watch over me.

Inspire me to greatness.

Put color into my pale cheeks.

Come and love me.

Be my ancestor.

-jenn

I hope there is a spoiler here,

Something to ruin reveries,

Something to undermine dreams,

And kill everyone's fantasies (but his or her own.)

For what is life but one big chain

Of fantasy after fantasy?

If not that, it should be.

But what would a beautiful picnic be

Without the ants,

And what the ointment for the stings

If not for the great gadfly in it?

What would life be

With these ruinations?

Ah yes, it would be lovely.

-jenn

I wonder if now that Neil Young is older,

And has gone ahead and traded Pegi in for Daryl Hannah,

If he ever changes, not his tune,

For that's too hard,

But maybe the lyrics have changed.

I wonder, does he ever say,

"Young man, take a look at your life,

I'm a lot like you are."

-jenn

He wakes up from a fever dream

And the first words that stutter 

Out of his mouth are, "Potato Famine.... Potato Famine!"

And I ask if he's ok, and he says

Again to me, "Potato Famine!"

So I take his temperature 

And ask if he dreamed of the potato famine.

He stirs about a bit and answers it

Like any good 14year old,

"Yes," he says.

And I say, "Wow! It sounds like you got

A serious taste of the potato famine in your dream!

Maybe it's a nod to the Irish in our ancestry!"

Then he says, "I'm hungry, Mom.

Can we go to chic-fil-a this morning

And get some of their fries?"

And I say, "No, chic-fil-a is closed today. 

It's Sunday."

And he rolls his eyes and groans

And curses under his breath,

"POTATO FAMINE!"

-jenn

Winter trees are bare.

They expose the bird nests

Like actors out of character,

The curtain pulled too soon.

My broth is bare today.

Too clear I see the spoon,

And the bird nest is exposed

In my egg drop soup.

-jenn 

I crave you,

As I do the poetry of

Robert Burns,

Dark chocolate,

And the smell of a stale cigar.

I crave you,

As I do the feel

Of rough cut tweed

And whiskers

And your soft silken hair.

Just a little bit of your cologne

Flares my nostrils.

Just a little bit of you

Makes me heady,

Intoxicates me.

It seems I can only have

Just a little bit of you.

Maybe that is all I need.

-jenn

The part of me I call my soul

Is free

Is whole and healed

And can't stand to be misused

But I can tell you,

My troubles can't wait to see you again.

"Like" flies to "like"

Like birds of a feather,

And part of me prefers the sun,

And another part weathers the rain better.

But I can tell you,

My troubles can't wait to see you again.

-jenn

I'm well fed

And want to go

And lie on the beach 

And get some sun

Until my 30 minutes is up

And I can go back in the water.

I'd sure hate to get a butt cramp.

Would you like to come with me

And lie on the beach in the morning sun?

And, no, you don't have to do anything you don't want to.

I'd sure hate for you to get a butt cramp.

-jenn 

I thought I was dry until I went into the desert.

I didn't know.

I thought I was wet til I met the jungle

At the hot humid part of the world

Where the Amazon flows.

And I thought I was lonely

Til I met you.

Now nothin else'll do

Til I tell you

How only the lonelier soul I ever knew

Than me is you.

And you are dryer than the desert

And wetter than the fog

That rolls off of the coasts of Scotland,

Or Ireland's peat bogs,

And youre smarter than the whales

With their giant brains,

And more stubborn than a buffalo

Out on the plains,

Like a muly old bull,

And twice as solitary,

Matted and hairy,

And you're lonelier than me.

Break my heart and call me broken,

Give me a line and a token

Of your affiliation.

Show me what hot is. Show me dry.

Show me wet and let me try to guess

What broken hearted version of lonely,

Is lonelier than me.

-jenn

I make him sick,

But he has cured me of almost everything.

He is like a biblical hero who took up his sling

And hurled me beyond

Anywhere that I could've gotten myself to.

I am the stone the builders rejected,

But he picked me up

Like a good rock,

And he skips me across the sky.

Somehow he has sent me all the way

Back out through the atmosphere

To the heavens where I came from,

Breaking the earth's gravity for me,

Burning off everything

That was holding me back,

Then freezing me solid in the pure chill of the outer void.

And now I'm going, going, gone,

Happy and dazzling as the evening star,

Hurtling through space like the good rock that I am.

-jenn

Little Nancy Etticoat

In her white petticoat 

Is protected by her love.

No one else will see her melt,

No one see the candle burn

Into the night and into the afternoon.

But who will protect her from herself,

And who will protect her as she melts

With her love?

-jenn

I sing my song of love for you.

All my songs

Go out

To you and you alone.

They create an ovate web

That glistens in the morning dew 

And catches dreams.

And dewdrops fall on the silken threads,

Like my fingers on the strings

Of the harp I play for you,

While you sing your songs of love to me.

-jenn 

The ocean will let you wade in

To her and swim in her and ride

Her mighty waves back to the shore.

The ocean will let you go away,

Or sit up on the sand out of her reach,

And never ask for anything more

Of you, even that you remember her

Or return to her forevermore.

And she might allow a god to part her waters,

And she might allow an army of people through,

But the waters will not stay parted there forever,

For she will never quit being the ocean,

And she will never forget you,

And you will never forget her.

-jenn

You need a muse that keeps you guessing,

Keeps you wistful, mysteriously

Chasing something

That every so often you catch,

Only for it to pop

Like an elusive bubble

In your hands,

Or like a kiss that expands into the night 

Only to vanish like morning stars.

This way you can write from the heart,

The raw universal truths of mankind.

This way the ending of your own dream,

Weaving out from your own mind

Can surprise you,

And you can surprise yourself

And find deep joy and happiness.

-jenn

Beware of Admonitions

They'll always warn you about your TrueLove!

"Watch out for him!"

"Watch out for her," they'll say.

They worry you'll get too far out 

Onto the risky thin ice

Of happiness and fall through

Into a deep trance of transcendent love

And never return to their mundane rules and religions.

They'll never warn you about the ones 

That they would pick out for you,

The acceptable, respectable, suitable suitors

And suitresses,

But they should!

I wish somebody would have warned me about this!

That's why I'm warning you.
Don't ever listen to anything besides your own heart
When it comes to
TrueLove.

-jenn

I am the lady of the shallots.

I weave all that I see

From the darkened dimly mirror.

I know the curse on me.

I plant my onions early

And often and repose,

Hastening the day I look directly 

At Camelot.

Then will I write my name upon the boat

And die,

And ride the flowing tide right up to Camelot,

Where they will say, "What here?"

But Lancelot will know.

I will return as the goddess-ghost 

Of the shallots, yay, verily!

And poet bards will sing their hymns to me,

And then I'll be forever free of the curse,

Give up weaving eternally,

And dance peacefully among the shallots!

-jenn

If I flinch at kindness,

What else can I say?

That the cruelty of the world

Has scared my heart this way?

If I wonder what's behind a grin,

Is it only me recognizing

The whole truth across the gamut,

From "maybe something"

To "my paranoia has set in again?"

I've seen Love walk headlong into a trap

And stay there though she had the power to leave,

And mind her pretty manners and look good

Surrounded by a hornet's nest of bees.

And yet, not I! 

I'll mutter "Nevermind!"

And "What have I done now?" under my breath,

And pout and sulk,

And smother you half to death

With butterfly kisses,

And dream great frothy dreams

Of kindness in a cruel world.

-jenn

She is the mother.

She is the child.

She is the sister

Raising her wild baby brothers.

She loves them with a fierce love

That even their mother could never show,

And yet her love is deep enough

To let them go and be wild men

That they were born to be.

And their blessing?

Their curse?

Two edges of her double-sword:

To find women to love them

As much and as wildly as she does,

For there may be no more like her.

-jenn

I was invited to the castle,

But I should have said no.

I arrived to scornful frowns

From the ladies in waiting,

And felt an immediate sense

That I was underdressed.

The Walmart sack I'd packed my things in

Also contained the brand new socks 

I'd bought to wear for the occasion.

I still have the receipt.

I may return them and get my money back,

Buy myself a hotdog and some fries,

Recluse again to the attic in my bungalow,

And keep writing poems,

Long as the money holds out.

-jenn