Elva's World

Yet another year

2012-01-05T23:36:00.000-08:00

What is a year?
Here in New Mexico it is 100 years
Space, trains, adobe softbrown walls
Farilitos, surreal white wastes.
Here in Family it is another journey
Eastnorth to the comfort discomfort of the gathering
Relishing icy water, toe nibblers, laughter echoing, and
a clamp on the heart for the missing faces.
Here in the World Mountains of confusion
the lack of demigogs, mediocre choices for
the future
hoping for strength so revolution rings again
stealing a line ... not with a bang
fading

Thanks

2011-11-23T09:44:00.000-08:00

Thank us for the world and the word
The golden leaves at the window
The rumbling cat purr and the silent breathing of sleeping children

Wishing stars, pine winds and sunwarmthlight.
Thank the world for us, streaming glowing
Sitting in darkness, moving the cities, digging holes through and through
Little people digging graves for mice
Setting up twig crosses
Teaming, creating god
Thank god for providing
Structure
A method to madness
The unthinking universe, the never neverness the nevermindness
A reason for the endless, unreasonable starfield
Unwrappable in man’s mind and
Providing a wrapping
Like maybe we are the Christmas present.

Two happy days

2011-11-13T20:56:00.000-08:00

Two happy days
will brighten the elation quarter and
run a dull stick through the gullet
with the drip drip of
saliva
until too full eyes must tear
with laughter
That voice, that laugh, that little tune
that says
two happy days are enough
just for now and another time
there will be two more.
The master waits around the spider corner
to boom boom beats of eardrums
or is it you inside your head
ding and the bell goes off ...
idea.

New Orleans

2011-10-03T11:17:00.000-07:00

Ho
Lets go
layer under upon
color
grey, brown, red, blue all in mute or neon.
skins all
blends of mellow and loud
show me where
dead people stacked on dead people, ghost upon ghost
so many orbs, journey
water, stink,
no fresh fruit.
toot, toot cacophony
only with time, or in times past
can we unravel the threads.

Summer of tears

2011-09-23T10:25:00.000-07:00

Nothing
no disaster
one long stream of sadness
over and over
partings, so many
the soldier, a Marine
not so good for mamas when they go and go and go ... away.
The baby
so gold and blue
dish girl, energizer, endless power up
soo far away.
the young white dog
pancreas eaten away by the pack-man C-word
each time I yelled at him for peeing in the house
and he faded so away.
another dog, so skippy
so brown and the most special
away, lost his way, couldn't come home
can't find a way.
Still steady, a pall on the year
this summer of tears
Can't wait for the gold to fall
the winter to freeze
the tears away.

Edgy

2011-08-14T21:35:00.000-07:00

What happens when the edge dulls?
That knife can't cut the bread
sometimes is slips off the skin of the potato
skittering into the skin
red
And sight
the edge of the eyes dull, wearing at the mind
as the fuzzy encroachment greys the colors
this
aging of which no sharpener can carve away the damage
and the heart
does it lose its edge
what happened to that fluttering in there
as the butterflies die?
Old hat love,
the sliding scale of passion
what does Hef really feel?
It's a rule
All sharp edges by nature become less so.
Maybe diamonds last, but can they shape their own lives
to time?

Marching

2011-06-18T09:05:00.000-07:00

Marching in the dark
following hot dusty forward smells
so tired
so hungry
One foot hardly follows the next
Where the quiet ends I don't know any more.
And at the end, is it glory?

Between

2011-05-10T01:05:00.000-07:00

Fire, growing from the earth
the world is bleeding,
The silence, tip
into another space where
shouting
then peace.
Jarhead
waitwaitwaitwait
no not now
The camel, smell, crisp ends where it got too close, to something
pungent, burnt hair
nothing but sand
white light
dark rain, seeps into the cracks, all the cracks
waitwaitwaitwait
And go home.

Are you busy?

2011-04-17T00:07:00.000-07:00

Are you busy?
Can you send the kids out to the movies for a while?
The tears won't stop now,
my face is hot in the sun.
I need to breathe you,
I need to cry out loud
and scream.
I need to curl up in the warmth of your flesh
and let you be
mother,
holder,
comfort, love.
I need to scream
and my face needs to be streaked with wet dust
where nobody can be disturbed.
I just need to cry
free.
Real wails, real gasps and snot
where your absorbency can just hold me
no lectures or commiserations
breast and body, hair and eyes.
Are you busy?
I need to cry.

Smile

2011-04-04T23:38:00.000-07:00

Boxter dog,

he smiles, doesn't know better.

Leading where we let him, heeling when he has to.

Mostly he follows

me around my crowded kitchen

until I can't stand it anymore and yell,

"Get out of the kitchen!"
and he goes.

He flys over walls, dances in grass
blows bubbles in the muddy water with his face.
Glory life, he says
nothing left but detail
a scent, a dragonfly, a sparkle in the night.

Just a brown dog with wrinkles in his forhead,
a serious smile, concerned eyes.
"Are you happy?" he asks.
"Can you slow down for me?"
He makes circles around my feet,
figure eights,
infinity.

Can't believe

2011-03-14T22:24:00.000-07:00

I can't believe its so late

in my life.

I can't believe a child of mine

can join the Marines

The coldness of a choice and the need to let go

I can't believe

how many dead people reside in my Rolodex, waiting for my eye

to bring them back

just a name to slide by, brings color, scent

a little house,

a painting a church a veteran

That mechanic, he died on a death march some fifty years ago

he was my son too.

Mixed

oh mixed

I am all tangled with dead people

I don't know why I should stay here anymore.

Swallow

2010-11-29T09:03:00.000-08:00

Cold the wind
in the cracks of life
fingers freezing to the keys
so deep
so deep the
sad deep
sink but colding it stays

Quiet the night
into which no one responds
to a lonely call
dreaming me there
Never intended alone
empty spot for you
keening in the darkness

Stiff the wind
it is still me
sending icy lines
into your blood
ache of the cold, ache of the lonley
but I can change nothing
for
nothing changes
ties cannot be created
which were never there

A trailor sits alone in the desert
the one inside would die if he could
the cold
is not only winter
but every wrong
every nightmare
every broken heart

Inspired by "Snow Falling in the Cedars"

2010-11-11T08:53:00.000-08:00

Strawberry dancing
quiet sweet burst under tounge
making happy teeth

Puget morning Sound
smoking fog light fishing boats
chugging through darkness

A little bit of everything

2010-09-15T09:37:00.000-07:00

When I die can I be a California Gurl?

All fluff and sex

candy for the eye?

Can I walk the moon, sit the wall as a fly,

Use space as a tool to find out why?

When I die can I become a wave?

Frothing and foaming over my grave?

Can I fly, can I laugh, can I save?

If the clouds are but water, where do God's tears come from

and the light at the edges, glowing golden, surely that's where he sits?

Watching and laughing with a twinkle no one sees.

When I die.

Can I twinkle too, wear grown up shoes, shed anguish and fears?

Can I look down, see my feet, have long golden hair, canoe the stars?

There will I be the wind and the waves, waiting just waiting for me.

Waiting to collect pieces, scatter them again.

Again

2010-07-23T00:11:00.001-07:00

Blindsided again
whacked right across the side of the head
where now the whirls have gone red
Such an old pain
It was so gone,
and here, no notice, blood and guts all over the floor
flopping around like so many beached fish
no wonder.

There is that little girl again
curled and crying
looking for thought and a father
How old do I have to be
Not to be a child?
Do grown ups hurt this much too?

Into the wilderness

2010-05-22T23:09:00.000-07:00

Pronghorn, Kestral

ancient wind songs,

reaches of space into timelessness

a step back

into nowhere human

only ancient maps, births

Where the stars are brightest

and the sound of wind feathers through the merciless sunlight

into a shadow place

And if you sit quiet

you can hear a yucca pretending to be a snake

no silence there

everything talks

holding to the screech, heart, and golden creosote sweetness

whispering in the air

the hot, bright, endless air.

Then the stage rattles through, startling the wild things, stirring the thorns.

The end begins.

What's important

2010-01-16T13:25:00.000-08:00

Remember

What's important

is it love, giving, family?

And when those are stolen

by memory spaces, holes, brain canyons

it's the drag of hours

pain

if the right pill is in the right place

even a little kindness goes by the wayside

if the nailclippers don't face the right way.

Who are you? Wife, daughter, son, mother

Hungry, I'm hungry

Did you do that paperwork?

Who are you?

Why?

Who?

What?

I'm hungry.

Inheritor of the light

2009-12-27T11:04:00.000-08:00

Where colors twine
into myriad directions, misdirection
and what really was is not real
but over analyzed.

Mary there with sun in her eyes, smiles
in secret
never unlocked but keeping Man busy
She carries the light; she owns it; she shares it
but can we hear?

The twisted logic of academics
keeps the colors swirling and laughing
as the secrets of Him the Christ
Are plain
and unseen.

Mary is there behind and before
The Rose, the new direction of an old story
the womb, the inheritance

And the tears in her eyes as she looks at the blood
dripping from thorns to her hair
Are they tears of joy?
She knows
INRI

A little snow

2009-12-04T07:13:00.000-08:00

White and more white
can't see for the ice
where to go
what to do

The streets are either slush or ice, one is safer but which
dropping white and covering my house with golden tones glowing out from under the snow

The gold is hidden in the snow
Glittering cold
blinding illusion
and what lies below may not be what we thought.

Grrrr

2009-09-13T20:39:00.000-07:00

Growling at the edge of snap

crackle

firelightning flittering off the edges of time

where

the dangerous pussy cat of the soft city

wants to regress into black and white stripes

a candy mass to swamp over the annoying little children

but

just so much Sweet the war

to growl or hug, cuddle or shove the ambidextrous

way of parenthood, take and give

plate the need to take up spoonerisms like

cherish every day

and the whack out loud and hard theory.

Braided into one tight confusing knot

the need to claw, hiss, pull, push, protect, squash

Grrrrr.

A little twist

2009-08-26T08:19:00.000-07:00

Twisty in the God's arena
where no one can be noone and everyone
must
be responsible but
how can we relate death to reality
we cant not a human condition to really
know anything.

Six favorite things

2009-06-18T08:06:00.000-07:00

A picture braided of my sons' hair
the wealth of three heads made into mad design
organized tangles, swirls, capers
shades of gold
all in one frame, held

A grain of sand from the moon
carved by some small hands into a castle
each brick showing in microscopic detail
blue shimmering lights flowing from the windows
like someone really lives there

A bottle, small and perfect
filled with the perfume of ginger and lilacs
all golden and swirly. diamond bits so light they float to the top

A red thread, fine and strong
connected to a star

Pacemaker, set in a mountain for the heart of the world
keeping things moving along when they feel old and slow
booming out with secrets and keeping what's next in line
the rhythm changes by and by
bye and bye

The word, twisting in the wind
there to grasp and fling
once released
the color is unknown but there it is
escaped
cut free of the tongue and on its own

Dancing lizards

2009-06-09T08:33:00.000-07:00

Tap tap tap, hunch
up down, push ups
mating dance?
looking in holes in the rocky dirt for what?
Whiptail lizards don't need mates, they just a bunch a girls
whooshing through desert floor cacti, green and unforlorn
Nothing blooms like the desert
rain makes things red, gold, brilliant
rainbow songs
browns alter with more brown until all things dare
carry on the song of life
take nothing into account but earth's direction
snakelings scattering across the path
rattle or not?
beware people and people dog things
the desert disregards you.

Spring mosh

2009-05-07T23:21:00.000-07:00

Grasses waving as gashes red poppys bashing togher
wind push
cactus thorn sharpeing but the
circle oh the circle
won't let go
And up and down stay together and those toes
no, those roots
won't get entangled with
another's roots
though its hard to tell apart the breath of yours and theirs
Glistening dew, sweat, golden faced sunflowers
slippery
grey rocks bash bash bash and
look up the light plays on the leaf ceiling in golden swirls
and the pool reflects in blinding arrows and
the noise oh the noise
such din
fighting fledglings, bees and more bees, babbling water
cover your ears the bears are thumping out of their caves
all around the air moves, whoosh and roar as the flow can't be stopped
never stopped.
And the smell oh the unwashed scent of fresh black earth and the unseen hundreds of lilac armpits so close but unseen
there are those who kiss angrily amongst all this madness
encircled in their own world, a bubble of insulated sound and passion and
sometimes a quiet soul watching, the heron on its tall sticks blinking unblinkingly.
Don't stop just wave on
never stop
is it KoRn or is it spring?

Why I write?

2009-04-14T09:37:00.000-07:00

Pages, words scatter, name my name
There it is
Byline, on the fresh newsprint, or Suite 101, echoofthedesert or WordHustler
Elva K. Osterreich
That’s me, I can say something and
Maybe I’ll be on someone’s fridge
With the magnetic poetry and
Last week’s meatloaf recipe.

I write because I must be immortal
Because I will die and me, I will remain behind
Clawing through the Ethernet, on servers galore
Climbing through the future universe, maybe to Mars or Betelgeuse
Or creeping into the smallest heart, where
A dancing child, a lonely gentleman, an oldster in purple will
Feel a touch
A word touch
And that will be me.
Just me.

I write for butterflies, my children, darkness.
For making others understand what they can’t and
Know people they never thought they would care about
And for the people leaving, who should be remembered
With adventures, history, quiet ways that fade away.
I chronicle a place to die slowly, gold and red fiestas, magnificent achievements from old missions to failed rockets, children building magical labyrinths.

I write because without the words flowing out somewhere they might get jammed in
I could be word constipated, with just a trickle of thoughts left,
Or so piled my brain could explode.
Or they could get confused with my blood and act like the cholesterol
Causing a stroke, where the words instead of blood go coursing through
The synapses and frying the little ends of the brain cells
And then, well, who is to say how my brain would compensate, what new dark paths my thoughts would find to be released.

I write with no choice in the matter,
With no ability to not do so,
This is my spirit, soul, heart and flesh too,
Even with no name,
No byline,
No going down in history.
Still would I have to write.

Moving

2009-02-23T09:39:00.000-08:00

Trudging into another place through dark browns and green

maybe the place I need is more gold, this peace

this peace is now squashing me

So unbuglike I wish to be

in the gold and rich sunlight and the green green desert trees

So I will be moving to the sun today

carrying my heart pictures

into the salty clouds

There, look at that one, with the gold rim

Find me there, drifting in the wind.

Wandering

2009-02-04T10:26:00.000-08:00

Quiet all around me

in certain circumstances color intrudes

washed out reds,

brilliant blues,
striking yellow and pale orange
But I am in a pool here and function moves about me, I do not move
My fingers are not pressing keys
they are part of the shell shell, pretending to be me
but here
is me
so deep and lost inside, a fishhook couldn't find me.
My stunning boys in all their activity,
where are they now?
school
band
cars
grandma's
And my mind won't still.
Maybe I need a meditation class.
Quiet all around me, never inside.

Whirling sister

2009-01-18T21:19:00.000-08:00

Eight days

2009-01-08T21:21:00.000-08:00

Eight days into a new year
and nothing
bad has happened
I hold hope
for glory
sunshine
rainbows
and plenty of excitement
no wrecks
no death and
plenty of money.

My resolution is
to finish 2009 without being as tired of it as I am of 2008

What part of me is bleeding?

2008-12-10T21:52:00.000-08:00

What part of me is bleeding?

Is it my heart, beating red and still pushing blood to my brain as it struggles to keep up with an aging, increasingly heavy strain.

Is it my hair, as the color leaves strand by strand abandoning the thin grey bits to join some more youthful lass.

Perhaps it is my feet, burdened by years of baby carrying, milk getting, chuckle walking.

My womanhood may weep blood of a healthier kind as I am reminded of those children and more that will never be, babies I won't forward into life because there has to be a stopping, a moving into the next stage.

Nay, it is my wisdom which twists away with my never-good-memory, this I am supposed to gain but where is it going as fast as I gain it?

Is it my knees, pudgy to the end, where each step is pulled forward and each step ends.

My lungs, my liver, my intestines?

What part of me is bleeding?

But that part unseen, unfelt, unhanded, my years.

Restless

2008-11-29T14:33:00.000-08:00

I am restless
into the falling leaves
gold feeling
slight and chest painful
don't know where to go
what to want
only missing ... something
Cat's in the duck food, I just watch
little golden barrels fly across the greeness of the carpet
just out of reach
the air, the atmosphere is gold too
spreading light
trapped
to the leaves
where it glows.

In sandy silence

2008-11-14T22:49:00.000-08:00

Can I wait to get on in my life
I can wait
take the time to smell the shampoo in the childs hair
to talk about angst with the teen who is still that toddler
and find a way to communicate with a green-eyed monster.
Can I wait
This is not waiting
this is life
But still should not be ridden like a wave going crashing
but pushed, as the wind pushes the wave
into the rocks
pushing rocks into sand
and sand into dust
Act
for
the next step
is only yours.

The step is green
growing into the future
weaving the child that was you into the adult that is your child.
The step is there
don't waiver it, grow it.

Baby world

2008-10-21T00:10:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wondered

where the wonder went

when we grew out of it

I think it's in the balloons

and the sky

and the black and white images

zebras of honest smiles.

Clayton and Dylan

they can't lie with their smiles,

they don't use with their tears.

Only knowing wonder

and busy watching their feet

Where does that go?

Glowing eyes, crinkles, wrinkles and .

Maybe someday we'll remember

We'll find our baby hearts again

and look in wonder at the world.

Just another waste of money?

2008-08-29T12:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes dreams aren't made to fly,

But this one was.

Sometimes the flight sits silent - a lost idea in a lost day,

But not this one.

Sometimes the weave is full

coming together, just right, just enough

to put the heart in and escape the sand.

Delta Clipper - Clipper Graham

they can't say you failed.

You flew and turned and dived and slide into the future

Where you carry dreams of space to those who haven't given up the sky.

Grow grow

2008-08-23T23:52:00.000-07:00

Grow in the seeds
the grow is seeded
as the seed comes.

Girl in the grow
the girl is gone in the seeds
as the seeds grow.

Watering the girl
has grown the girl
now she goes to be in the water.

Who is to say?

2008-07-03T09:04:00.001-07:00

Who can say what night sees

the ant, the octopus, the tree

How scant is a moment when all is still fresh

flighty mothorbutterfly

ending before it begins.

A child bit the apple

handed it to me

Tomorrow she will be

The next

it's over.

No pastels

2008-06-25T22:47:00.000-07:00

Fire danger
here the forest is closed
too dry
but sooo much cooler than the desert floor
No pastels, no watercolors in the forest this year.
the greens are strong, ragged, angry
The browns aggressive, dry, rich
golden grasses await tinder, spark
Still there are flowers
Red, orange, purple all wild and strong
but no pastels in this forest.
Even laying on a stone table
waiting for the last steppers to fade up the path
looking at the clouds
someone is stirring them with a big wooden spoon
they flow toward one another, across one another, can't make up their minds.
No pastels in this forest, even the mole hills in grey dry dust are too harsh
for the gentle paintbrush
The light offers too much contrast for any camera to catch a tree that is not a dark silhouette against the mountainside.
Smell this day,
too touched with life
to be a pastel.

Photo courtesy of a friend

who understands

Foraging

2008-06-20T09:38:00.000-07:00

Touching, reaching searching

in the forest of never

where if you don't take a leap, dreams fall away to the wayside

but it's so hard, so risky, so reckless

to stretch for the dream, the writing, the heart,

when there is a house

a mortgage,

three boys,

carsyardswateringworkingstrugglingdaytodaytodayhoursaway

What happened to me?

an echo.

Every man an island

2008-05-04T21:16:00.001-07:00

No man is not an island
wandering in its own version of ocean
lost in waves, pushed by salty tears
Every touch
is external
but inside each wanders in the morass
of black, gold and rainbow thoughts
alone
all are alone.
From a view, behind the eyes
there is only what is hidden in the skull in the self
and no way to penetrate that
which is inside
We can touch skin
but the fight to feel
is lost
because
if you feel the brain
the fingers flowing through the mush
well ...
there is not much thought left in it.

Morning

2008-04-29T05:52:00.000-07:00

In the morning
quiet
the dryer tumbles in the kitchen
doves talk out the yard
quiet feet settle into the chair
children snore little drooly sounds

In the morning
the garden grows

Ribbons of dying

2008-03-18T20:59:00.000-07:00

Catching in my throat the ashes of night

aching ribbons floating down around my face into the sky around me

as the floor reaches up and

the clouds cry

or not

Black ribbons and little bows unassembled

they can't be pumpkins anymore

curling heartbeats

not curling

not beating

season of death.

Adrian

2008-01-26T21:22:00.000-08:00

Adrian left us
he didn't go into the darkness
I hate death
it takes, consumes, sucks away the steam
They said Adrian was done here. God called him home.
My God what a selfish act was that?
Adrian left us
he always walked in light
taking other's hands and dragging them with him
into
that
light
So where did he go?
Whos hand can he take now?

Peace

2007-12-26T23:09:00.000-08:00

Touched again

Pieced into the fabric of winter

Skinned naked in the light.

Pieces

2007-12-26T23:05:00.000-08:00

What is it?
Peace-word
stepping backward
and each battle has its place
peace
a gift for my children
A settle in my heart
a drift
adrift
a seperation from reality.
stepping away to step up
to watch like Budda
weeping yet not
apart

Coming in the door

2007-11-30T09:32:00.000-08:00

Golden sunlight falling through the door,
Wafting in a breeze
carrying the scent of golden leaves
the bite of cold, light of winter slide in on the beam
the gas kicks on
I should close the door.

Warmth flows dancing over shoulders on one side
cold creeps over toes and knees too
can't close the door
Have to let in the light
cars passing through flying leaves redgold
trains passing hollow whistles on endless tracks
the town is awakealive
me too.

Emo

2007-09-29T06:14:00.000-07:00

Quietly missing
something dark
a bit of life that ran through the house
on cat feet
now an empty place in my chest
Loudly missing
with no vocal ringings through the halls
no whiskers
no black shadow pushing its way into life
But where did it go?
On its way through life
Something lost? or something found?
Happieness or death?

Tiddleywinks

2007-07-24T08:41:00.000-07:00

Heaven gave us tiddleywinks
we flip them back and forth but we don't know
where they go.

Sometimes we can sort of direct the tiddleywinks
and think they may do something
important.

Sometimes they land on a bug
wheather a ladybug - then it's murder
or a cockaroach - then it's polluted.

Sometimes we have to follow th tiddleywinks
into the next room
maybe its the bathroom where little boys go every day
or the kitchen where the cats must play
or the bedroom, silent with sleepers today.

Tiddleywinks are fun
if you can loosen up and see what they do
If you just worry about the next hop
the game will be quite blue.

Next installment:
"Through the eyes of a paperclip"

Alone

2007-06-16T22:15:00.000-07:00

Smoothie with rye
a little Jack Daniels
and somewhere, on a phone
he said
he was massaging my feet,
as we drink red wine and listen to Yani
and I can't get it out of my mind
I don't like wine
and am more of a Motzart kind of girl
but
that day would be priceless and delightful
Not marbles and salt water.
Yani and red wine
would be perfect.

Too fast

2007-05-25T06:11:00.000-07:00

Seems so long ago, or mayby so short ago
the months don't know
just flow and go

Redness in driplets
sliding away
into today

So so hanging on
its my gray matter
mushing so

i don't know

Where did the day go?

Desert spring

2007-04-16T08:43:00.000-07:00

Light catching fragile
Mesquite in pale green fringes
Thorny bright delight

Peppergrass no sneeze
white mustard wind dancing touch
No worries today

Reaching up for clouds
Popping red bubble blooming
Ocotillo sharp

Gold stiff delicate
Crowned d. y. c. ground close
One up for dogweed

Don't talk

2007-04-04T12:06:00.000-07:00

Don'ttalkdonttalkdonttalk
Why not
fierce don't talk
I said

How could I
say
that which was so strange
so awful
and angry

He was nude and free
then he put his hands on me
donttalkdonttalkdonttalk
and that was all me

don't I said

and that stopped something
but something did not stop
donttalkdonttalkdonttalk

did somewhere die in me too?

donttalkdonttalkdonttalk

just breath.

Walls

2007-02-24T22:40:00.000-08:00

Golden walls
towering up, spreading out
yet walls they are, huge and inescapable
dust mote walls
Cave walls
shadow walls
On them hang the saddles of the past and the gorillas of the future
all that we know
the reach of the stars and the space pods hang there
and the eve from the beginning big bellied stone
Arcane
and then
when the walls spread a little
we will have
yet another
infinate glimpse
unsatisfactory
and oh so human.

A journey for Jack

2007-02-16T08:08:00.000-08:00

Dark, light,
Five-year-old
boy
Dadda and a street and a horse drawn taxi
They speak English, Jack understands German
Don't leave me here Dadda, don't leave
Golden curls, big green eyes
Did your Momma once curl next to you,
inhaling your youth scent and innocence?
Tiny boy, alone
A doctor, a thin proud stiff nurse.
Tied to the table, metal underneath
and choloroform is not yet used in England
they spread those little legs apart,
and cut
and cut again

scalpel
Trying to fix that little penis fast, for a third time, not much left
sew
silk and needle
cry and scream and cry again
only pain
no Momma, no Dadda

Did your Dadda's heart break and harden when he handed you off?
only weeks alone in a cold hospital
only pain.
No wonder you grew up angry
evil.

Can't see

2007-01-29T11:49:00.000-08:00

Can't see very well any more the starry night
Felt footsteps follow me
The time for drifting is past and
Ninty-nine days are coming.

Hoho
He cried into the night
changing his red for the black of silk and thread
He touched her bright dead eyes to his lips and fled
into the 99.

So he passes the days as though they are kilometers
and waves to those he sees in trudge
They whaft as he gallops
into tomorrow
As the glory regresses forward 99 steps
for every backward progression.

Hoho he cries into the night
His passion torn, his anger never was
he is certain of his direction
only the night knows he is lost.
And then the days are gone.

I write for you

2007-01-09T23:14:00.000-08:00

I write for you
my enemy of fire and warmth
When it is to cold I call you
when it is too hot, I curse you
Then you become
and slip away
I am no longer connected to that tenatious wire

Slipping free into the mud of words
the language of transition
where we would not be people if not for words but
nor would we be dying at one anothers hands
for it is the words
WORD
which leads us

I write for you
because I have no choice
of my deadly, honest, frightening addiction
I am here
and I write for you.

Disconnected

2006-12-27T08:40:00.000-08:00

Crumbled bits hiding in the corners
as just the pie filling hardens, sweet ready to eat
but some of the shells still hide
pecan pieces, in the peanut butter
Mish mash mush with sharp surprises.

This too is bitter medicine
where light and laughter meet whatever
with an attitude
where life and gratefulness sometimes flow into the corners
and the darkness creeps back in
memories of broken glasses
smashed against the fridge
shards on the kitchen floor which somehow find their way to flesh
and cut and cut
dripping blood
onto the filthy floor.

Just around the edges of the light
lurk the pecan shells of the bitter dark
Absinthe in the chocolate
Enclosing heart wreck
Just there, on the edge peeking around the corner of the fridge.

Unwrapped

2006-12-24T08:37:00.000-08:00

Cheer
Holidayhappieness as
we sit
One sick
one tired
All ready to unwrap the hope
to see what dreams can be broke
What is in this one
what a delight
Too bad we couldn't fit an ATV under the tree this year
too bad
The box can't hold
the
shiny happyeverafter
unachieved its better anyway
what would we do
if we found all our dreams
It would be the end of the road wouldn't it
what a bore.

Little cat

2006-12-06T16:21:00.000-08:00

Imu
Why are you pointing that stupid thing at me when I cant't get out of this stupid machine? Just get me out!

Little cats

2006-12-04T15:21:00.000-08:00

Little cats are annoying
irritating, in the buckets, in the washer, in the hair.
Little cats jumping, falling, rolling
yowling when you step on their tails
Always playing
What brats!
Little cats.
They pull down the toilet paper and scratch it into shreds
They get in your face and breath on your nose.
They get on the table and lick up the milk.
What brats!
Little cats.
Two little cats seem like a dozen
always there underfoot
looking with those funny greenish eyes, wondering what you will do if...
If they jump on your leg digging in their claws,
If they throw kitty litter all over the floor.
If they run outside and hide in the tree in the cold.
What brats!
Little cats.
Why do they have to be so trusting
so knowing,
so soft and purry?
What brats!
Little cats.

Too many words unsaid

2006-10-23T12:21:00.000-07:00

There are too many words unsaid,
too many worlds between.
A balance unseen, exposed
annoyed.
I cleaned shit, I left your bed unclean.
The warm cat took priority.
Our priorities are differenter than they should be.
Where
I feel you blame me
for life
Maybe I was a child too.

Create me

2006-10-10T01:39:00.000-07:00

Touch the sky to my arm
raise the fine hairs
to the electricity of the beating
somewhere there are drums to follow
beats to bear
a path to take us there.

Touch the path with Windigo
and there he lies
solid and cold
no breath in his skin
those antlers have driven out the parts
that made the within.

Don't look behind you
you might find a sorrow
you missed the first time somehow
where silence meets the lightning
and no grass grows.

Smellling the wind

2006-10-01T21:22:00.000-07:00

There is a girl living in my back yard,
She fits with the pomagranates and tall grasses in her tent.
My house is full of boys and life and peace too.
What more?
Red gowns, glitter blacks
sunset beaches and coconut trees
But adventure here is
a new Indian restaurant
finding new tastes
lamb currie and kokopeli in the wind
what is this what is that
Adventure here is
a new class, learning new things
because even with red gowns
and sunset beaches
I would be restless seeking another adventure.
My face is to the wind
and I can smell change.

zzzzzzzzzooooooooommmmmmmmmm

2006-08-25T18:16:00.000-07:00

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZooooooommmm
Where are you oh mosquito?
on the screen, on the light, on the skin
taking my blood,
giving me nights of unrest as I dig at the unsolvable
itch
zzzzzzz
oooooooooo
mmmmmmmm
blood
quiet, invisible, right up until they are smeared on the wall
little red dots
on the white bathroom wall
as the lake waits
for more.

Picture this

2006-08-13T10:13:00.000-07:00

Wow,
speachless,
broken glass on my doorstep, only children
Highlights in the trees
keeping the sun at bay
But the heat is swealtering anyway.
The fall should come soon
as the quiet should descend with children in school
and the air balanced, with pine off the mountains
and weeping from the desert.
Tell me tell me where
is my childhood?

Pool gold

2006-06-21T22:09:00.000-07:00

If I had a pool
it would be just this
Alone under desert sky a wonder of dampend light crawling across the top
That turquoise gem angled in the midst of mounds of sand and twilight
a layer of scatter
a layer of peace
a row of darkness blue tile lined, color of the sky the moment before night
and here a single star
insignificant.
As this simple rectangle of water and streetlight, old and red, causing gold ripples of mermaid hair to brush the contoured, pale pool bottom.
Cricket or no cricket.
Adobe hotel on the mother road
dripped on by mother night.

Victory

2006-05-26T15:52:00.000-07:00

Victory
oh
heart
Silence
oh
child
No
I changed my mind
no dingos
call out
no child
silenced
The mixing of the sage greens and the child blues and the mountain tans
those are the song of this desert
And then
poison
just when you don't expect it.

Ok, I know it's trite but what can I say, I have a weakness for quizzes

2006-04-27T23:10:00.000-07:00

Your Aura Colour is Magenta.

Magentas are jesters. They are zany, spontaneous, offbeat, outrageous, physical, innovative, in the here-and-now, inventors, attention-seekers. Sometimes they're loners.

Find out what colour your aura is.

Already April

2006-04-17T11:44:00.000-07:00

It's already April, mid April to be sure
This is just another way
The world has
of sneaking
away
Somewhere spring disappeared after
a day
a day of flowers
and tweets, gold and pale greens,
somewhere that day came and went
now
the blistering has begun.
What happened to winter
The ground still longs for snow
instead it cracks
and desert brown is momentarily unbroken.
Where the toads
can't come out this year and
where the snakes
have no cool sand
where the rabbits are so hungry
they eat the wire
under trailor town.
We missed that day of spring
Already in April
spring is gone.

Wow did I really write that?

2006-03-15T20:50:00.000-08:00

Seventy five days away from nowhere
Can't see in front of me
can't see behind me
the cards
are pink and deadly in my future
bleak in nature.
Only the death card is alive, full of future and hope
only the death card has no humor
or too much.
What is that, another day?
walk walk walk
fracturing clearly with no clear fractures
give me rain.

Closit monster

2006-02-05T10:38:00.000-08:00

There is a monster in my closit he eats time and spits out clothes that are too small to fit the smallest. Maybe he thinks its time for more.

Another month..away away

2006-02-05T09:33:00.000-08:00

Cat, looking out the window
Boy, on a PlayStation
Contented today
but underlying with restless noise
always that,
something
Like another world is waiting for me
like today is another illusion
Like tomorrow is a teardrop in the heart of the past.
Can't see tomorrow even though its clear
most have a predictible life
Do I?
Contented today
child snoring
silence in the house, computer humming
What else is there?

Unblogging

2006-01-29T13:28:00.000-08:00

The words are getting away from reality and floating forever in the world but not in the world. It's getting too strange for me to think about. Unfinite, myself, scattered in little bits across the electronic age. Possible for the rest of the world. Should there be no world tomorrow, bits of me will still be floating here and there in the aether. So it is time for me to unblog, steal myself back from the streams of information which must, at one point, bump into itself and react. But how, and what it will do is something beyond any understanding.
So this is the warning...
I am unblogging soon
a little at a time
my words
will
be
o

Resolute

2006-01-01T20:21:00.000-08:00

To stay alive another year
walk more
talk more
laugh more
love more
To find mortality
accept death
deny death
welcome death
fight death
To watch the human world go by
Slip into the stream
follow the flow
avoid the ice and the lava
don't swallow too much water
and hang on to what you can
It will be enough.

for Stacy-Lynn

2005-12-26T10:36:00.000-08:00

Child of light
darkness in heart
too sad, too bad
but laughter still lurks in the corners of the world
and you will find it
there
in the soft foam on the waves
in the voices of children
one at a time the spring throws laughing things at us
even in the darkest spaces
fathers understand
mothers let go
yellow petals fall
spring comes.

Always believe

2005-12-11T00:27:00.000-08:00

Always believe in jumping in puddles
in dancing in the rain and laughing in the wind
Always beleive in truth
and in things that hurt, because things do hurt
and
Always believe in clean tissues
and roses
and things that go bump in the night, because they do.
Always believe someone loves you
and that snowmen know
and
Always believe there is an answer
and life is precious
and hiking into the unknown is helathy.

Midnight oil

2005-12-04T00:01:00.000-08:00

In the darkness
the bathroom door has a hole
and to a 4-year-old
well that's a nightmare.
In the darkness
other 4-year-olds
have other problems
and that's a nightmare.
so
May all 4-year-olds
play in the yellow fallen leaves,
laugh in the sun
scrape their knees
and
forget their dreams.

Mom said

2005-11-24T12:02:00.000-08:00

Mom said, "I don't read blogs."
"Why do I want to see what people think," (or something like that)
There it is,
Why do we want to know...
how the mind works
Is she afraid of what she will find?
uncomfortable with the intrusion of the mind, the blindtwilight of what is in the head and heart.
What is a blog?
not a discussion, not a medium, not a method
but a look into the rawness of the ego
"I don't read blogs,"
Blogs aren't there to be read
they are there to be felt, touched, to disturb the psyche of the experienced ...
Pretty scary eh?
No wonder my mom doesn't read blogs.

WOW

2005-11-01T22:29:00.000-08:00

This is it....
reality?

Searching

2005-10-22T23:25:00.000-07:00

Ego
mania
mineyoursmineyoursmineyours
smile
you could be Googled.

Deadline

2005-10-22T23:21:00.000-07:00

Deadline breathing short
Heart rush, survival touch it
Finish, live, fly, breath

Climbing

2005-09-24T19:27:00.000-07:00

The mountain
waits
for its children to climb into its snowy peaks.
Heartless trees
stick their creeping fingers into the soft flesh
the rocks cling to fanning sides
hoping not to become aluvial.
She believes
her children come back
but really the creatures are always new
seeing with new eyes
and ancient hearts.

You can be part of the world without being the center of the world

2005-08-06T22:46:00.000-07:00

Environmentalist

2005-07-28T11:05:00.000-07:00

Environment
that which is
all around.

Outside of me is
noisy kids
piles of house
news and newspapers and more news
words.

The Word
is environment
the environment is the words
all fitting in very will with the natureal way of things
ie cycles

Environmentalist
one who protects the environment
cleans it
defends it

What do you call those who just want to run away to the mountains and hide in the cool green woods?

I am

2005-06-28T20:38:00.000-07:00

I am the wind,the sparkle in the blond boys' eyes.
I am the moose in the wilderness come too close to town, chewing and thinking, watching the younglings in the reeds, afraid to let them go.
I am the pickle, the sour to those too sweet. I climb the stairs to pickledom in the vinegar of New Zealand apples and the oranges of real trees.
I am the earth with her plump, twisted sense of humer. Giving and taking and giving again.
I am the silence in the window of your mind. The hidden shadow with a plesant surprize.
I am a rose, a dandilion, a cherry picked green garden thing grown in the weediest part of the garden but with some elegant strain still hanging on, barely visable.
I am mother, heart-beat, daughter, heart-break, sister, heart-bent and lover heart-strong.

Silver days

2005-06-18T22:28:00.000-07:00

My days are silver now
slipping away behind me in a river I can't collect
through my fingers, through my toes and around my thies.
The swirls of eather are engulfing even the top of my head
And my skirt is tangled in time.
My weight sends me floating in a current where
I can only guide what is me, not what is around me.
I am taken to no shore
But if I am careful, I can avoid the boulders
And not swallow too much time at one time.

Wet-foot cat

2005-05-27T21:48:00.000-07:00

Wet-foot cat
Stepping on my bare feet
rain

Rattle-leaf mulberry
Forgot to wait
until the frost was over

Twiggy tree
Twiggy boy
grows in the rain.

Wet-foot cat
makes me cold
twiggy boy
makes me old.

2005-05-11T23:00:00.000-07:00

I fly mom?
Always
Catch me mom?
sometimes
but i can't always catch you.
sometime you have to fly on you're own.

Read it to me mom.
what is it.
A clock thing mom.
Okay today i'll read it...in a little while.
Its a nose ...mom
where.
on the clock the middle is the nose, the arms are the wings
the numbers ... are numbers
as the wings of time take you into the future, forget the numbers
hold me.
I tired mom.
Me too.

Hello out there

2005-04-20T21:51:00.000-07:00

I never know
what will come out of my fingers
what will flow forth into the world from these arms
I never know
what waves my words make
when they are no longer mine but the world's
I never know
the draw, the toss, the flow
I never know

That was me

2005-03-27T21:53:00.000-08:00

Remember that skinny little blond girl with raggedy long hair?
The one in Okie's who stole plastic beer glasses on ten cent beer night and crawled along between your feet under the tables to a corner where she stacked those plastic cups into castles?
Well, that was me.

Time soars

2005-03-13T21:10:00.000-08:00

Hello time
Who told you to eat my children, suck my skin, dye my hair?
Who told you you could teach me a world
then take it away?
Hello time
What happened to my immortality? My deals with love? My belief that I would grow up?
Time heals all wounds, they say.
But I don't.
I say
Time takes all memories, leaving only histories
Time takes all scents, leaving only photographs
Time offers miracles,
But
Time eats my children
and I mourn them every time I look at them
because they are no longer who they were.
and I rejoyce them every time I look at them
because they are amazing as they are.
Hello time.

Heartbeat

2005-02-09T20:10:00.000-08:00

Have you ever felt life out of control, or do you survive on the feeling or do you lean into it like a heartbeat against a ribcage. Is the action a way to turn away from yourself and hide in a whirl and love. Where is there someone deep inside there to hold close and push away who will put up with you as you put up with the world. Beside you, there, around you there, in the peace between heartbeats where silence reigns but the next beat is inevitable. Spend time there and find what you need.

Thumpity-thump thump...Thumpity-thump thump...thump thump thump...

Fellow mountains

2005-01-22T23:30:00.000-08:00

I am a mountain
Standing still in the world
which develops around me
I am a face in the rock
noble, uncaring, untouched by the scurrying things
touched only by scurrying time
I am a mountain
the snow creates my hollows
the rain skirts me in shallow mounds of sand.
I am sensational and distant,
I am horrible and huge.
Fellow mountains where are you?
Touch me,
wake me,
dare.

Dizzy broad

2004-12-29T01:16:00.000-08:00

I am a dizzy broad,
says my unkle
I am a dreamer
says my sister
I am disorganized
says Randy
I am Mom
says Lanze
I am good at my job
says my boss
I am lucky
says me

It all goes to prove....
I really am a pretty dizzy broad.

Life's questions

2004-12-12T22:02:00.000-08:00

I thought I would get the cards out
I thought I would have my world cleaned up
I thought life would get easier and I wouldn't have to scratch around so much.
But the holiday cards still sit in the pile
A heap of laundry sits at my back
Writers don't make lots of money and the leaves are still in the grass.
So what is that snake about
and why can't I just sell that soul for some cash?
But then what would I tell the kids?

Thanks

2004-11-23T18:14:00.000-08:00

Dear God, gods, Mother Earth, and Father Sky
Thanks
Thanks for the world.
For all things that fly, walk, crawl, and sit and be still.
Thanks for the laughter of children, the warm smiles of friends and the soft touch of the gentle heart.
Thanks for the cat on the computer, the magic marker in the boy’s little hand and the Beanie Babies looking down at me.
Thanks for the turkey and the pig who provide their flesh for our meals. Thanks for the carrots, and sweet potatoes that nobody likes, thanks for the tart cranberry for keeping us awake when the deliciousness of the day threatens to put us to sleep.
Thanks for families, quiet moments and dancing in the rain.
Thanks for the tables beneath our food and the roofs above it.
Then there are the rugs, carpets, blankets, jackets, and scarves that keep us warm.
And the wood floors, bookshelves, and sideboards which keep our shoes on and our minds sharp.
Thank you for good books (and bad ones), excellent movies (and really stupid ones) and radical video games (and educational ones).
Thanks for the mess for at least I have a house to be messy. Thanks for the tears, for at least I have eyes to cry them with; thanks for bumps and bruises, for a least I have the children to get bumped and bruised; and thanks for worry, for it keeps us on our toes.
Thanks for the opportunity to know those here and those gone, the myriad of exceptional human beings parading through our lives who give us gifts of themselves.
Thanks for the dragons, witches, flying monkeys, white rabbits and hobbits of the mind who raced one another for enlightenment.
Thanks for mothers and fathers and patience and anger.
Thanks for horse potty, guinea pig swirls and ferret noses.
Thanks for the world, for without it we would have nowhere to live.
Amen

Police Report

2004-11-21T08:12:00.000-08:00

Bicycle stolen,
red, Honda, breaks broken
because one child
likes to take risks
tricky turns, ball chasing, jumping the curbs into a land far away with cheers for the bicycle king.
Bicycle stolen,
as it lay innocently in a green grass yard
with yellow leaves gently sprinkling over it and dew growing from its rims.
Sombody left it there
not put away
and there it went...
away
to some other boy,
dreaming of greatness
and wealth
Not from this bike,
only one boy could ride it
it fit only one smart child
who could make it fly
and stop it without breaks
who trusted it to wait for him
laying in the grass.

Hands

2004-11-05T21:11:00.000-08:00

My hands have touched the stars and the skys
My hands have known blood
The simple use of changing hands, the cuddles, the diapers, the roses and the thorns.
It all is one and one is not all but ever moving and sliding
over keyboard,
over strands of long hair,
over growing child faces that can't be kept,
over time.

Story time

2004-10-21T13:42:00.000-07:00

I had a friend who went walking in the woods and he found Wendigo, oh Wendigo
Silent as quiet spaces, noisy as the wind, hidden like the clouds, visible only when...
I had a friend went walking, he never was the same
Wendigo, oh Wendigo, where you walk I shall never roam
Wendigo follows, snaps the twigs
Wendigo leads, just around the bend,
Beware those of evil heart
Wendigo will win.

Another day under the belt

2004-10-05T21:36:00.000-07:00

Wake up, go to work, stress because someone is in the bosses office maybe applying for the position I applied for but no hes here for something else, go home not feeling so good probably the donuts I ate this morning (I ate two and its carb shock because I have been following the low carb thing.), sleep at home, hard to wake up, pick up the little one who got stitches (three) yesterday from the father's house, pick up others from schools take one to soccer, go home roll his papers, sky is clear, by time to pick him up storm close, get him back home and the wonderful rain has begun to flow out of the sky like all the gods have dumped ambrosia on us, go to a meeting, a water scoping meeting good controversy, good ideas, too much manipulation, transparent lies, poke chocolate in my pockets for the kids so they can forgive easier my nocturnal travels.

And there it is gone another day in the world. Full.

But in the inbeween spaces there is always time for hugs, laughter, snide remarks and witty reparte. Inbetween spaces there is the smell of rain, the delight of an unexpected call from my sister, a gift of a warm bowl of chili. Inbetween spaces there is kindness and excuse mes and babies in my coworkers arms and pomengranets. Oh yes I have a pomengranet tree and it keeps grounded in the cycles of love, darkness and light like Persepone. It helps me remember the spaces that are importent, the ones inbetween.

2004-09-26T11:32:00.000-07:00

White Sands Balloon Invitational 2004. Elva, Jager, Forst and Lanze the LaLa