When I see her, even in my mind,

I’m filled with spontaneous joy

I cannot help but smile

And chuckle just a little bit.

The child is full of happy curiosity.

She’s bright and cheerful.

Undaunted by gray skies,

She plays a broken harp,

And makes mud pies.

She tells me fascinating stories about the games she plays,

And anecdotes of things that happened 

That day at school.

She reminds me of someone 

That I used to know,

And she reminds me

That I am still so lovable.

She helps me be the loving person

That I know I am inside.

She loves to see other people smile.

She connives in a world of thoughtful things to do.

She reminds me how lovable you are, too.

I think I’ll love on you a little while,

And see what kind of smile you have.

-jenn

All these years I’ve told the world

That cherry is my favorite,

And all these years

I thought I didn’t lie.

But today I caught a whiff

Of strawberries

And remembered.

It was a strawberry pie I had as a kid

That I loved so much.

And all these years

I’ve searched to recreate

The burst of happiness in my mouth,

And come away dissatisfied,

And wondered what life was all about.

But today I caught a scent in the air

Of strawberries,

And I remember.

-jenn

I moved in to isolation

Because the rent was low,

And the government subsidized

The rest, and it felt so comfortable there.

But as I began to meet my neighbors in Isolation,

I began to seize with uneasiness 

And feelings of dis-ease,

And sadly the stomach ache

That accompanied seemed very familiar, too.

And so I’m moving out of Isolation.

I hope that this somewhere new

Will be a place where I can share

Health interdependently, with healthy friends,

But I know the possibility only begins

With me, regaining my true identity,

And so I’ll meditate and clear,

And let my original soul have room

And authority to move back in here with me.

-jenn

The queen’s been the queen

Since 1952.

What does your president have to do with it?

And how dare you think

That the right of succession does not apply

To your type of government,

Whatever that may be.

You have to be a millionaire 

To run for office,

And no matter if you represent left or right,

You’ll have to be hatched

To the proper parents,

Preferably the first-born of the first-born,

And preferably with a proper tally-whacker,

Or just get lucky as some at large heir

Without one.

But, are you really naive enough

To believe anyone is truly in charge

Of this blue burnt rock hurtling aimlessly 

Through space?

-jenn

If all the poets won’t write their words on the bathroom walls

So all the world can read,

I will.

If all the poets in Danbury wont

Write for the poor

Who can’t afford

The high class poetry.

I will.

If all the poets refuse to rhyme

And only write

To satisfy time

And never say what’s really 

On their mind,

Then I will.

If all the poets choose, politically, 

To rant of something so very today,

To brand a slogan

So their pals can say,

“Good job!”

And call it poetry,

Then I will stand with Isso and say,

“Writing shit about new snow

For the rich

Is not art,”

And it’s not poetry either.

If all the poets refuse to rhyme

And only write

To satisfy time

And never say what’s really 

On their minds,

Then I will.

Poetry is holy verse

From a land called The Living,

And gets thru to us

Here in Deadville.

It’s cuts a broad swath

Of Liberty

And sets us free from the jargon of the hour

In which we exist,

And all the do’s of it,

And all the don’t’s.

But if all the “poets” from Leadville won’t,

I will.

-jenn

When my amnesia suddenly cleared,

And I remembered that I was from Cleveland,

The doctors told me I had to go back,

Even tho it was ten years

Since I had been back there,

Or thought of any aspect of my old life.

I got to thinking about what I remembered,

And most of it was bad,

And I decided that my life in Montana 

Was based on something so much better

Than the reality of my past,

And that I intended to stay.

And furthermore, a bout of amnesia

Might be good for everybody,

Every now and again.

-jenn

In the house inside the house,

The rules all change.

The children suddenly become the adults,

And candy is for breakfast.

In the canopy on the terrace

In the afternoon,

I rule as queen,

Or, as Eve.

There are many parts of the Bible 

I believe are true.

Snakes do love a garden,

And so do worms.

A worm is just a small snake,

As far as I’m concerned,

But in the Eden of the Eden,

New rules apply,

And sometimes, as the name implies, 

It is good, and joyful

And a righteous thing

To have candy for breakfast

And Communion.

-jenn 

I went to a small town farmers market

And decided to drive on by.

It’s not that I’m a produce snob,

But I can’t fight the stored loss of my  environment side

With only my poor genetics.

I guess it reminded me too much 

Of a family reunion I wish I’d missed,

The pavilion overgrown with careless weeds,

And that one drunk cousin.

But when I crossed the county line,

I had to fight a sudden urge

To steal the mail out of a mailbox

At the turnaround.

I looked inside,

Four bills and an offer from Publishers’ Clearinghouse.

-jenn

I made people cry in the ladies’ room

With my stinky poo.

It made me wonder, too,

What have I been eating?

Why don’t I feed myself good things

Like the food I prepare 

So carefully for my children?

Why don’t I know

That I deserve this type of care?

Why am I unaware of my needs,

And painfully aware of the needs of others?

But then, why do I also blame me

For simply not knowing

What it is I even like to eat,

Or how to take care of myself properly?

You may think your poo doesn’t stink,

But whom do you have to thank for that?

Believe me, you have someone.

-jenn

It’s not your night,

And I’m not your type,

But there’s strange music in the air.

Strange forces, strange darkness,

Keep a social distance,

If you can.

It’s too early.

The song has just begun.

Robert Plant’s voice croons,

Begs, groans to move you

Closer to the edge.

Falling asleep, falling in love,

Falling down into the starry river,

Too deep for anything but otters at play.

It’s too late to save the day.

Save yourself, 

If you can.

-jenn

He tries to get a grip on me,

Like Tesla building over an aquifer.

My power is coveted,

But not understood,

And nothing built to scale will last.

Only the megaliths know my name

And whisper it to me

In the dark,

To remind me

Of what Love is.

-jenn

It’s dark

I lie in my bed

With the window open

And a cool breeze blows over

The peanut plants growing 

Green in the south field

Out of sight

The tips of the roots

Develop tiny buds 

That are becoming peanuts

I smell the fresh dirt, 

The rain coming in on the wind

I wiggle my toes 

My roots spread out

Across the plains

To the cities and towns

They’re taking a good hold, too

And I wonder what lovely fruits

These seeds of happiness 

I planted today may turn into

Tomorrow 

-jenn

There’s a lot going on in there,

An entire world in a ship

Inside a bottle.

I peek in to see me when I was five,

Curiously trying to find things out.

I also see an older version of me

Bending down to help her out.

She’s whispering secrets in my ear.

My tears are gone.

A wide smile that breaks 

Like the dawn into

A happy laugh appears.

She takes my hand and we go into another room to play

And sit and have something good

To eat, together.

I’m not alone.

The younger and the older me 

Are healing all my memories,

Helping me be at peace with everything 

From the subatomic history

To the macro-cosmic now.

And how beautiful the brochures are,

Of lovely places all around,

Like the beautiful feet

Of those that bring good news,

That the chances for the future will be grand!

-jenn

I wanted to have those fluffy shoes

That are in style these days.

But I didn’t have the money,

And so I got the bright idea

To stick my feet in boiling oil.

And now, puffy swollen blisters 

Ensconce my burning feet.

I can’t walk to go anywhere,

And only now I realize,

I never needed any shoes!

-jenn

Only a camel can hold his noble head

Proudly without shame

In the great shadow of the great pyramid.

Only the camel is without sin,

And yet it bothers not

To cast a stone.

A still silhouette, against a stiff breeze 

That blows the leaves of the palm trees

And the sand, the great winged thobes 

Of the Bedouin women, only the dromedary’s face

And the great pyramid stand motionless,

Moved by neither time, nor wind.

-jenn

I saw a hobo on a bench,

Leaning over to read a placard 

Beside a statue of a famous man.

His mouth was open while he read

And it droops down a little and to the left,

Like his hat and his heart.

He looked to me like a stalky,

Long-stemmed flower

That needed to be watered.

Sometimes it’s too late to give water to a plant.

The roots are dead, and you watering it

Only makes its spirit mad,

And it will haunt you,

And give you sad dreams.

I hope this man is not dead already,

But just in case he is,

I don’t think I’ll try to water him.

I’m no expert on such things.

But as I pass by in my car,

I notice the mouth

On the statue of the famous guy

Droops a little down and to the left, too.

-jenn

If I’d’ve been in my right mind,

I might’ve turned a different way,

Or maybe made two lefts

Or stopped,

But, today, it’s good enough to know

That I may still have a few options

Other than the end of the road

Available to me.

And so I’m happy,

Because someone helped me clean my windshield,

And now I can see.

I left my true self behind!

With every other useless thing I carried,

Carefully making sure the baggage

Made each and every connecting flight,

But I am going back without it

To find her,

And then, I’m going to let her drive.

-jenn

And when I get to the great cena,

I’m going to be very hungry

For the ambrosia I have missed,

The kisses on my brow,

The warm embraces, 

Because I find I’m very hungry, now.

When I get done with this,

And slip into 

Something nice

And comfortable,

And walk through the ball room doors,

I hope to hear the music playing 

Something gay and light,

Such that even heavy feet

Could find their way

To dance all night.

We’ll snack on scrumptious finger food 

And taste champagne,

And be ready to love again 

All through the night.

Please, kiss me deep 

At the changing of the guard,

As morning bells signal

The very first ray 

Of holy morning light,

Then I’ll know,

That I am really home to stay,

And that home will never go away from me.

-jenn

I’m stepping; I’m stepping

Into a stream.

It’s different; it’s different.

It’s different for me.

It’s changing; it’s changing.

So am I.

Every slight second,

The eye beholds

Something new and beautiful.

The river is running 

Somewhere downstream,

Cascading over boulders

And pebbles, and leaves

That have fallen 

Float, then sink

To the dark bottoms,

Elegantly.

My meditation, my sleep,

My dream

Takes me down the cool creek

Water, to be

At rest in the moment,

To feel, and to see 

Where time and the water

Take me.

For I have fallen

Into this time,

And I am enjoying

The cosmic ride

That is now.

I see it through eyes

Of peace and love,

Fearing nothing,

Judging nothing,

And not being judged,

I’ve taken myself

Out of the game

And into living.

I appear

And disappear 

To eyes that blink

In between the trees 

That line the creek bed.

But my eyes are wide open

Here on my boat.

I’m floating,

Floating on love,

Flirting with the dragonflies 

That drift along and share 

My air and this little part of the skies

And time with me.

-jenn

Birds have a voice.

They all speak at once sometimes.

All the different coos and chirps 

Peep upwards in the morning.

My windchime collects its thoughts, today,

In the stillness of the morning,

Listening to the birds and what

It is they have to say.

And I am walking quietly,

Swelling myself on the happy sounds,

And all the potential energy,

And like the chimes, I wait

For throaty winds of possibility 

To blow over me and through,

So that I may learn to find my voice, too.

-jenn

If you have to wait for the beep

To get to that recorded message

Of yourself telling the world when you’ll be back,

Then find you do not know,

And worse yet, don’t believe yourself,

You may want to go away for real

To a place where no one can call you,

Til you’ve had time to call yourself

And let your inner loving parent heal

And assure your inner loving child

That you will never abandon yourself,

Again.

-jenn

She was smug

‘Cause she had a man in a Mazda

Who wasn’t afraid to

Pull up in the circle k,

But she wanted him to get out

And go in with her,

And he wanted to stay outside 

And play on his phone.

So she went in,

And surveyed the case of cold energy drinks,

And didn’t see the kind she liked,

And wasn’t in the mood to try a new one,

So she hiked up her heart a little 

To show the clientele 

Just what they were missing,

Then waltzed back out to the Mazda 

To giver her old man hell

All the way back home.

But he noted her face,

And considered the possibility that 

Negative displacement may exist

In physics after all,

And asked , as she got into the car,

If she might like to try

The new donut place in town,

And she said no,

But she wouldn’t mind trying

Krispy Kreme donuts again.

And Mr. Mazda just took her over there

Lickety split,

Without further ado,

And it was nothing new under the sun.

There never is,

Except negative displacement 

In physics, maybe.

-jenn

My sweet ogre

My billy goat gruff

Build a bridge to your heart 

Just for me

Let me tiptoe to your heart

Where no one can see

The best treasures are the ones 

We keep to ourselves 

The ones we hide in our hearts

While you’re giving peace a chance

Give yourself a chance

For me

Give me a chance to love you

I have found the sacred river of light

That flows between me and you

In the illumination I see

Your true colors

Give yourself a chance

And please, give me

Just one 

-jenn