Like a snail, I move through the cosmos,

Like a kid

In a candy shop

Taking in every possibility.

So many strange and wonderful confections I see!

Maybe too many to choose only three.

Maybe I will never eat any of the candy. 

Maybe I honor the candy this way.

I catch sight of myself in the mirror behind the glass case.

My face is that of a snail.

My upper tentacles are cute bug-eyes, and

Childlike, like puppy-dog ears,

But my spiral shell is tattooed

With a dark gray and light gray yin-yang,

Yang-Yin,

Eternally going out and in.

When did I get to be this way?

When did I get this said tattoo?

Who painted me?

Part of me so naturally exudes the substance that I need

To glide through this existence,

And yet another part seems less than true.

But I’m exiting this candy shop, slowly,

Some might say “unscathed.”

Its bright lights and mirrors create exclusivity,

But it is the murky in betweens that issue to me the call I heed.

They offer me inclusion,

And I yearn to cast my bread upon their waters and be at peace,

Free from hopes and free from dreams,

And maybe even leave the cosmic currents free 

To pick my three boons out for me.

And now I’m riding on a turtle’s back.

This seems very fast to me.

The thrill is just almost too much.

It makes me yell out, “WHEEEE!”

Yes, maybe I better let someone else make my wishes for me.

-jenn

 In the beauty pageants of our minds,

The ones we’re drug to,

And forced to compete in,

We grudgingly prepare.

But when we get a glimmer of ourselves 

Just as we reach some personal best,

And some critic pops in to say

That we’ve ended our sentence with a preposition,

Then must we know

We are getting close.

Raise your hands In victory!

Speak using the language of light!

Even your dna is unwinding,

And you will be alright, Grasshoppah.

Anything IS possible 

We CAN become an ant, or BETTER!

We can flip any script and see

A new way to enhance every fiber of our being:

Our bodies,

Our minds, 

Our energy.

We can even learn to unlearn,

And learn that it’s ok

To misspell things that don’t exist 

Except upon white pages,

Like words,

And maybe someday when we’re strong,

We can even be brave enough to end our sentences a preposition with!

But what will happen in the talent round?

How will we fare in Congeniality,

If we do not get ourselves sifted in the first rounds

Of the beauty pageant,

Especially the ones that only exist in the white pages of our own minds?

-jenn

 This was my graduating class if 1984

We did not look too far ahead 

For nothing seemed to be for us

The way it had been for our predecessors 

But we did not dare look back

Because the past had been a pain

We were semi-buddhists 3ven th3n

We wanted to live in the now

But our now sucked

And so we dissociated ourselves from all of that

And lived in an imagined place

Called Getting By

We regained reality

Only when we wanted to buy a candy bar or a coke

Where we visited our old chum

Who’d quit our class, and also quit school 

And by now, had worked so long at the convenience store

He had seniority and made good money at only age 16

He went on to buy the store

He still owns it to this day

He’s bought a few more

And occasionally he gets a good hard worker

Who has quit school like he did 

He watches them to see if they might make a good manager

And maybe someday buy into his franchise

We had twenty in our class

Nineteen graduated

Not too bad of a percentage they say

But that One out of One

Who knew already what was going on at twelve years old

He’s batting a thousand as far as I can tell

-jenn

 On my birthday I went and sat on a rock In the White Man’s cemetery.

I watched over my father’ grave for one hour. 

Like the Thinker, I sat

With my fist underneath my chin

And pondered life.

I was 21 years old.

Then I rose,

And, like a teenage boy, I ran,

As hard as I could toward the boundary of the graveyard,

And as I approached the fence,

I jumped.

I bounded over the chain link and the top pole,

And I landed on my feet on the other side. 

And suddenly I knew,

My father had done the very same thing,

And he was somewhere 

On his feet

On some great unknown other side.

And today,

Again,

It is my birthday.

And today, again, I will remember these things,

And hold them in my heart still healing.

But today,

I will find something else to do for my birthday.

-jenn 

 Everything is just a dance

Do you hear the music

Cross the street hang out your clothes 

Hear the song how it goes

And keep your heart light

By dancing to the music of the spheres

Pirouette arabesque 

Now it’s time to build your nest

Quarter horse and jumping deer

There is nothing left to fear

Pirouette arabesque 

Now it’s time to fly 

You are dancing now you know

Maybe fast maybe slow

Maybe clumsily maybe sad

But with awareness 

Even that can become joyful 

And help us get in line with all there is

Abundant life forever 

Dance dance children dance

Tell the people not to cry

Tell the people to be happy 

Tell the people all to dance

And raise their weary hands up to the sky 

And reconnect with all the glory 

The joy of the cosmos

-jenn