Posts for 2020 (page 22)

The euclid speedway holds me
and studies my gold face
to see if I am old enough to kiss you.

It sounds like a steel coaster and
a smear of screams indivisible elemental
rushing up to Mom
waving! Hi! Let’s people-watch we have tickets for food
you can stuff your face today is
the day come on today is the day
and everything your belly can’t hold is puke
and everything it shouldn’t is just the price of a good time
a kingdom of fear
and of no danger
and of we-have-your-epi-pen.

Axiom:
    My favorite ride is the tallest.

Proposition:
    You don’t scream because it lifts you legs dangling or
    because it drops you but because you learn
    your body is passed shrugging and feckless through every instant.

It’s killing me I’m sure
but who isn’t
Lately the crickets keep me company
We drink, from the same glasses
wet and broken but
It’s better to take your licks,
the poison’s in every cup.

An old friend burned sage 
then folded my hands in hers 
and told me that years ago she could not leave either
and slept on her husband’s grave for nine nights.

At the grave after dark, I fell asleep,
unaware of the cold,
deaf to coyotes. 
I think I have slept for three years
on that dirt,
have swallowed ash,
have wrapped myself in sackcloth
wrung out and hung to stiffen in winter sun.

You folding my hands now in yours reminded me of
the comfort of quilts,
the sweetness of an apple,
the relief of rain in summer.

Each name shall be unset.

the shell shall unset it
and remove it from the environment.

Unsetting shall not be considered an error.

The unset shall support the Base Definitions.

Note that unset should not be
misinterpreted.

Unset the functions

favor the standard

retain historical practice.

The System used one name
without options

and there was no confusion.

—
Found poem (erasure) from the Linux Man Pages.

Complete text at:
https://man7.org/linux/man-pages/man1/unset.1p.html
 

We turned America off and on again
But the system still malfunctions
Keyboard locked
Monitor displays nonsense
Feedback grating from the sound system

Is it time to reboot
Restore to the original factory setting
Have we done too much alteration to the code
Will we need to reinstall each program in turn
To locate the malware that led us to this critical point

Perhaps we will need to install new programs or patches
To address the problems we have begun to acknowledge
Or will we face the final reckoning
That this is not a software problem at all
And no tinkering with the system will save us

No, this is not a happy poem
Nor one filled with love
It is a deeper look into
Where self doubt springs from

It starts with,  ‘you can’t do that’
Because ‘you are a little girl’
It moves on to ‘there is no room’
For ‘those like you’ in this world

‘You’re too dumb to be a doctor
Too slow to win the race’
Not pretty enough for a date
‘Just cover up that face’

‘We won’t pay you what your worth
Step to the back of the room’
You have no power over your life
Not even over your womb

You hear these things long enough
You begin to believe the words
They slither down into your soul
Where they can create the most hurt

Self doubt is not a rite of birth
But rather a learned behavior
A lesson taught by the weakest ones
Desperately afraid of failure  

It’s time, my dear, take them to school
Show them what you’re all about
Put on that crown, stand up tall
To hell with all that self doubt.  

For my writing group, my brilliant friends

We are passionate women
torch bearers of varying ages and backgrounds
some without degrees, some with PhDs
all serious of talent, full of hospitality
bonded together by affection for words
and for the world led by unrelenting
conviction to curate the past
make sense of the present
brainstorm the future

Our ensemble sings the fragrance of daily life
paying stark attention to the minute
the seemingly unimportant details 
painting our pursuits with an array of color 
sharing experiences and recording
family history that might otherwise be lost

We are a circle of trust and support
breaths of courage and creativity
empathizers and sympathizers hoping
to help heal crushed hearts in a broken world
saying “it’s okay” or “it’s not okay” and
gently reminding “sitting beside you is my privilege”

We are a true and proper space
for reflection and respite
giving life to inspiration
celebrating innovation
cultivating peace and truth
striving for justice and a clear voice

We are clusters of wonder and wanderlust
a menagerie of magic and stardust
elements of power and tenderness
casting unabashed marrow 
into a sea without nets

my shoulders are two planes
waiting to land. maybe if they
grew into wings, they’d stretch
across the room. and i know
what i’m doing here–how i tend
to make music out of
what scares me.
so i’ll switch to facts:
people say i give firm hugs,
that my arms wrap all the way around.
when i swim, i reach across yards
of water, like i know where i’m headed.
one day i’ll carry my daughter
on my back, and
she’ll never be afraid of falling.
if two birds were to build a nest
in the crook of my neck,
they’ll have so much space
to call home.

Unwinding, rewinding,
going back and back.
When does it stop?
I just want my head
and my feet aligned
moving forward
but I’m lost
on the shore’s rocks
in the stairwells
the fluorescent lights
in the dark room
the womb room in the white rooms
the cocoon rooms in the rooms I remember
in dreams I’ve abandoned
and return across a quarter century
not knowing why. What a mess they are.
Is it enough to name the damage
or must I feel it all again?
Stymied by echoes
of footsteps that might
or might not be mine,
I’m carrying less
but keep covering
the same terrain.

                    –      After J. Campbell & J.R.R. Tolkien

 Dismemberment is easy
(to find).  You don’t need
philosophers & critics to write it
all out.  The hero’s journey
doesn’t even exist, until

ripped apart, broken down,
stripped of crutch, you find
you cannot walk—so you learn

(you choose)                    
                       to hobble
onto the path. 

No one is going to                             
                                 (no one could)
make you. 

Cliffs at his back, the beauty
of the Fool is he cannot
imagine a World
without Towers.

Like the man who inherited
a field, chock full
of old stone—built himself
a home.  & a tower.

Oh, the world will knock
us over, will huff & will puff
to blow it all down. 
This is simply the way
of (this) world.  But we

can be (re)made
of a higher order
of mettle. 

A hero is a hero
not because he is dismembered—
not even because he faces the trials.

A hero is a hero
because he faces himself—

takes a bath in the ashes—
& sets his life

on fire.

Why, you ask, is the world so screwed up?
Just look in the mirror.

No, it’s not your fault,
You didn’t cause all of these problems.
You might even be trying to solve them.

So, why look in the mirror?
Good question.
You don’t really have to physically look at yourself in the mirror,
But you can do some soul-searching.

What if a lot of it is perception?
Hasn’t the world always been screwed up?
What’s different now?
Oh, it’s that it is affecting you more,
Or it’s threatening to affect you more than in the past.

What can you do?
Not the right question.
Try asking yourself,
How can I grow?

Talking to myself, really.
Been trying to step back and be objective,
Not an easy thing to do.

Question to myself:
Who am I in this screwed-up world?