Through the keyhole,

I see such lovely dirt

With sprigs of grass growing.

Through the keyhole,

I see gray slats of boards

That make a porch.

Through the keyhole,

I see the fine Italian shoes

Of a man who's ringing my doorbell.

If I bend a bit,

I can see his trousers

And the tail

Of his blue coat.

And now, quite suddenly,

Through the keyhole,

I see his eye looking back at mine,

And this is quite embarrassing,

For I was trying to hide.

But now, I see,

That he sees me

Through the keyhole!

What an audacious thing for him to be!

Someone who peeps at other someones,

Right through their own keyholes!

-jenn

Let's Don't and Say We Did 

(on Opposite Day!)

Sometimes I just need someone to talk to.

Will that get us in trouble?

If it will,

Maybe we should just go ahead and get naked?

I'm cold.

Are you ?

I don't see why anyone 

Would begrudge us

Trying to get warm,

But if they would,

Maybe we should just go ahead and get naked?

I feel some deep rumblings

From way inside me,

Just from the mere abstract thought of you.

It's nice and tropical in my head,

And gears are just beginning to churn,

Just beginning, you understand.

Just a few tremors are starting to shake

Like Vesuvius warning Pompeii,

Fully clothed,

And all at once asking,

"Maybe we should just go ahead and get naked?"

-jenn

I used to tell my children stories about 

My rosy childhood.

And then one day when they were older,

I finally broke down

And told them the truth.

And they told me,

"We always knew!"

And I asked, "How?!"

And they explained,

"Because we know you so well!

And we know your family,

And even if we didn't,

We can see

How you treat yourself 

On your own birthday:

You get up like you always do

And pour what's left out of yesterday's

Lo-carb Monster Energy

With a squeeze of lime,

And feed the cats,

And take time to hug us and tell us good morning,

And ask us what we want to eat.

And we've tried giving you nice things for your birthday,

But you always say you don't need anything,

And we know you would never ask 

Even if you did."

And then the younger son stepped up 

And said, "I got you something, anyway,"

And handed me a rock,

A small plain-Jane one he said 

He found in our back yard.

And then he kissed me on my cheek.

And truly, it is exactly what I would have wanted,

If I ever would have wanted anything for my birthday.

And so today I feel such peace,

Because I know there are a few people

Who know me

And love me anyway!

-jenn

I used to tell my children stories about 

My rosy childhood.

And then one day when they were older,

I finally broke down

And told them the truth.

And they told me,

"We always knew!"

And I asked, "How?!"

And they explained,

"Because we know you so well!

And we know your family,

And even if we didn't,

We can see

How you treat yourself 

On your own birthday:

You get up like you always do

And pour what's left out of yesterday's

Lo-carb Monster Energy

With a squeeze of lime,

And feed the cats,

And take time to hug us and tell us good morning,

And ask us what we want to eat.

And we've tried giving you nice things for your birthday,

But you always say you don't need anything,

And we know you would never ask 

Even if you did."

And then the younger son stepped up 

And said, "I got you something, anyway,"

And handed me a rock,

A small plain-Jane one he said 

He found in our back yard.

And then he kissed me on my cheek.

And truly, it is exactly what I would have wanted,

If I ever would have wanted anything for my birthday.

And so today I feel such peace,

Because I have two sons who know me

Better than anyone else,

And love me so much anyway!

-jenn

Son's friend: Do you want to go shoot some guns in the country today?

Son: No.

Son's friend: Why not?

Son: I've shot guns before.

Son's friend: Well you've breathed air before too, but it looks like you're willing to do that again.

Son: shows what you know! I don't breathe air. 

E chord rings somewhere in the room,

And the E string on my guitar resonates.

The train goes by.

My cat begins to purr.

I think of you.

My hips gyrate,

Imperceptibly at first,

And then break loose

In a wild uproarious samba.

My soul shakes loops of

Heavy ropes away,

To dance freely through the night

And into the light of day.

And as the sun shines,

I feel my heart at peace,

First rays of morning 

Warming my feet,

Kissing my toes,

Working its way 

Up the rest of me.

Love dawns on me slowly,

Like rhythm, like rhyme.

It comes for me wholly,

Like a stitch in time,

Looping me back together

Sweetly with soft comfortable threads,

Cradling my head in its hands,

And kissing all my temples,

Loving me all along my E strings,

And everywhere else between,

Making beautiful music in my soul

And I hope, in yours, too?

-jenn

It used to be people could look in a mirror,

And as they turned to walk away,

They would forget what their image looked like,

But today, I look at a clock 

That's in my phone,

And before I can put my phone back in my pocket,

I've forgotten the time.

Am I late?

Am I early?

I don't have anywhere to go.

Why am I looking at my phone

To see what time it is?

If I ever have the nerve

To come as I am

And let you smell me

And touch my skin

Without any cosmetic creams

Or false bravado,

Then I won't bother looking in the mirror,

Or forgetting my image,

And I won't bother looking at my phone

Ever again.

-jenn

The torn page resembled the place

Where the ocean foam washed up,

And for a while, the tide would bring the wave

To that exact spot and to that very line

That stretched along the shore

As far as I could see.

But tides change, and slowly

It went out.

The horizon came to resemble

A page torn now in two different places,

Waiting to be torn in three, or four,

Or burned in a fire.

But luckily, the moon was pulling.

The swells renewed and came in high,

And foam that had been disregarded 

Along the beach line corresponded

With invigorated splashes

And kissed the sky,

And entered in to all the cycles of life again,

And smiled again.

And then could see,

The page only looked like it was torn,

As part of the graphic quality

Of the artwork.

-jenn

"Where am I and what have I done with myself?"

I ask myself from the bowling alley bathroom.

I've been reading a fascinating play

In the privacy of a center stall.

But I'm going to have to re-enter the throng sometime.

I've already had two people ask to borrow my bra.

I should never come here, alone, I know, 

But they have the best french fries in town.

In dreams I come naked to

The bowling alley and actually bowl.

People notice, but let me be.

Sometimes it's cold in here,

And I put on a coat,

And the other bowlers show obvious relief.

I think I should write a play about this, and 

The moral will be, "Live and let live,"

And the title will be, "What Women Want,"

And maybe someone will read it in the bathroom,

And maybe someone will weep

At the beautiful ideas I've proposed.

-jenn 

There may be many ways to Jesus,

But there is only one way to Walmart,

And I went down it wrong.

I found out when this new aged hippie gal

Honked at me and shot me the finger

And screamed some blood curdling obscenities my way.

I smiled and waved

And put my hand in my purse

On the pepper spray.

I saw she had one of those "COEXIST" stickers on her Subaru,

But I was ready just in case,

Because even though hypocrite comes in all sizes,

There seems to be nothing more intolerant 

Than some of the peace-lovin parking lot nazis

In sheep's clothing around here.

-jenn

The morning sun,

Shining just so,

Through yellow leaves

Still soft from autumn dew,

Squeezed my heart

Like an olive in press,

Between its light

And the tender voice 

Of my teenaged son,

Singing with Ray Charles 

On the radio,

"Georgia On My Mind."

-jenn

In fog, at night, when you want to see,

Maybe counterintuitively, you have to take 

Your lights off bright 

And click them down to dim.

And sometimes while chasing forest fires

Through sand,

You may have to let some air out of your tires

And slowly forge the littoral

To make it through the trails at all

Without a tow.

And sometimes, when completely overwhelmed with love,

It pays dividends 

To blow out three of the four candles you lit,

And sit very quietly until,

Loves comes to you in the dark.

-jenn

Squirm, Magic Pumpkin,Squirm!

While I wave this wand at you 

That I saw Aunt Circe throw out.

There's still a little battery left

And I want to see what you can change into.

I've been told

That changing something half the way

Is a no-no.

The strange hybrids tend to grow into monsters,

Like Cerberus and Apis Bulls,

But I'd kind of like to see a Pumpkin-taur,

And I think knowing the gourdic nature

From whence it would start

Prohibits me from being too terrified

To see it form.

If I could be happier,

I would,

But since I can't,

I'm good

Being a half-assed excuse for a demigod,

And wasting my time by creating 

Other weird misfits in my image.

-jenn

They told me no life could live this deep,

Nothing could handle the pressure 

The mysterious sea exerts,

But I donned a suit and went over the side of the dinghy.

As I drifted down I saw the usual creatures,

Then very deep, my eyes adjusted,

And I began to see strange features

That no one had ever seen.

An ocean of undiscovered, unnamed, unstudied species fluoresce.

They were giving off their own heat,

Applying the feat of chemo-synthesis, and

Illuminating all the faces of god.

Or is the pressure too much for me?

I'm dying.

Someone's chasing me.

Someone's chasing you, too,

But you may have something to offer.

Nothing tips the iceberg like you.

I float like a dead man,

A beached nude,

With absolutely nothing to show for myself.

And now the scientists will take a net

And dredge below, 200 feet,

And "discover," and name them all

After themselves, in a fatal stab at immortality.

-jenn

If a Hyperborean Maiden comes to you,

And asks you a favor,

You're screwed.

Damned if you don't, and if you do

What she asks,

There'll be Zeus to pay.

Especially if they tell him how cute

They think you are!

So carry your moonbeams in a jar,

And be on the lookout

For Hyperborean Maidens.

Be sure to see them before they see you,

And stay very far away from them,

No matter how lovely or distressed 

Those damsels appear to be.

-jenn

Maybe we were forbidden lovers in a previous life,

Or born into a strange taboo

That our generation cannot comprehend.

A night bird flies against the grain at dusk.

It hurts to make it home before dark,

But as the days grow shorter,

The night bird, forbidden, loves her 

More and more and more.

The canopy of the clouds holds rain.

The rain holds a sweet darkness.

Goodnight bird just has enough time to stop

To buy a loaf of bread and some wine

And maybe just one bottle of champagne

So his wide smile can disguise 

Itself among the bright bubbles

And never give itself away

Midst winter's gray.

-jenn

She works hard on her yard all summer,

And then Winter comes,

She sits on the couch and pouts,

Looks out the window,

Buries her face in the tv,

Buries her mind in a form

Of hibernation,

Tries to forget about the three bears she lives with.

They sleep all winter quietly in their beds.

She tries out their chairs, instead,

And experiments with making Strange porridge and puddings.

She tries to think of nasty tasting things she can put in.

Sometimes it is only this that can bring

A smile to Goldilocks, whose Father 

Forced her to marry Baby Bear

After she turned up pregnant

And gave birth to a hairy little son.

She's warm within the den,

But cannot sleep the entire winter like the Bears do.

She feels her biological duty is through,

So now what?

-jenn

Some days like this,

When the wind has tangled my hair,

I have the chance

(And take it),

To brush my hair hard

And in frustration 

Just the way my mother did

When I was young.

I can almost start to understand 

Why she always cut my hair.

My mother did not understand my hair.

Hers was so different,

And she always kept her hair so short,

But I always wanted mine to be long.

I always try to understand other people's hair,

Because it's very sad when people

Don't understand each others' hair,

Much less each others' hearts.

-jenn

Come to my house, Sweet Pi,

And I will make you sweet potatoes for breakfast,

Apple dumplings for lunch and rhubarb pie.

We'll take the circumference 

Using you,

And build a henge,

And sing the stones right into place

Like Merlin did,

And make a name for ourselves,

And if not a name,

Then at least a spiraled haven

Where we can convene

And shout our praises out

In splendor and in ecstasy.

I sing your hymn,

A glorious irrational number,

For you cannot be expressed

In conventional ways.

Let's cut the cake 

And feed one another,

And think of all the ways we're roundly blessed.

A little more than a trinity,

You are all the more divine.

3.14159, or, pi.

-jenn

Now that the leaves are gone, I see,

I have four Druid watchmen 

That live in this tree in my yard.

They watch over me,

But they also watch me.

They are very hard to get by,

These soldier guards,

And they set the bar high for me,

Because if someone's going to make the cut,

His spirit will have to be fit and tough,

His mind has to be quick and witty,

His eyes must shine and a manly smile

Grace his rugged whiskery face,

Because it's easy to pale in comparison 

To the stoic beauty of the men in my oak tree,

Whose faces are made up of twisted branches,

Who look at me with intense glances

Of deepest love and desire and admiration.

I like the way they look at me.

I love the protective nature.

Their stature is grand.

They stand guard above me

And keep me content

Until my TrueLove can come and love me

With the same intent and heart

As the Spirit of the Oak Tree does.

-jenn