Emotional

I know I'm emotional
I'm sensitive and I feel so much
But I don't ever tell you I love you
Because I'm so full of fear

Could a woman like you
Want a man like me?
I know I'm so emotional
It's because I feel so much

Can you believe in me baby
If I could ever tell you of my love
I feel so much for you honey
I'm so so emotional

It Won't Kill Me

Such anger, such judgement.
Do I think you are judging me,
Or do I just know I do not fit –
That you will not accept
People such as me?
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
I am just fine.

Plaisir Dans La Douleur

They won't tell you – the cutters
How much of the thing they enjoy.
No. They give back to you
Your limited expectations.

I am trying to stop.
It is so horrible.
It is so dark
So disturbing.
Sorry sorry sorry.

They see no way toward
Telling you the other.
The joy. The peace.
The relief as they cut.
Why did you think they did it?

Nor will they tell you
About how running their
Hand over the furrowed flesh
Made complex by the
Intricacies of the cuts half healed
Is a deeply, intensely,
Pleasurable thing.
The corrugations of the flesh
Just right under the fingers.

So. I will let you in.
There is a reason we cut.
It makes things
So
Much
Better.

They don't tell you
Because they are sure
That you won't understand.

Reason Overcome

Oh, oh, I see her across the room
And my heart speeds
And there's a tightening in my groin
She's beautiful, with a body
Exactly right,
And I think that she has the
Look of the women in my
Ancestry, and even still

My reason cannot overcome
This primal desire.

I would say she was beautiful
If I did not know that it is only
My genetics finding her a good
Place to be deposited. AND
WORSE! I see that she feels
The same way about me, even
Though she is with a guy that
One must assume is her beau.

My reason is overcome by
This primal desire.

And I choose, because I can,
To turn away - to know that I
Am master of my desire.
That I choose beliefs and
Intelligence and integrity --
But I have to wonder. If I
Turn away from every woman
That I am attracted to,
How will my loneliness cease?

My reason is overcome by
This primal desire.

Friday Night Dharma

She came onto the train
Face wet
Mascara running
Looking like she'd been in a wreck
Eyes flickering around as if
Looking for escape
She walked with strength
Or panic
Or fury
Or numbness
Her habitual attentiveness gone

He followed
Attentive for once
Panicked
Shamed
Resentful
If he didn't want her public pain
He shouldn't have ambushed her
Why did he think it would go well
In public?

She strode through the car
Ignoring and aware
And slid into a seat for two
And turned her face to the window
And as he sat in the seat next to her
She leaned
Horrified at the possibility of touch

And they sat, silent
Ignoring each other
Aware of nothing else.
And in the dark of the tunnel
She tried to fix her eyes
In the mirror of the window
But couldn't bring herself to function
Once her eyes glanced off
Of his reflection
But only once

At their stop
He leapt up
Startled and afraid.
She strode away
Never looking back.
Never looking back
And he followed, her satellite

She was already making her own way
A pair had become two

I watched, and wished I was going their way
Fascinated
And sad
And sad
I yearned to warm myself
Against the fire of her strength
I turned instead
And went to sit
And to hear about the dharma

I am so tired

I have spent years trying to figure out
What normal looks like and trying
To emulate, to be it.
I am not normal.
I had a loveless childhood
I had abuse abuse abuse

I am sixty years old and have never
Never never never maintained a friendship
Can you understand that? Well I can't.
I periodically try, sometimes every two
Or three years, sometimes every ten
Or fifteen years, to open and chance and try

But up till now, I have not figured out
How to friend. People will act as if they
Really want time with me for a while
They come around and want to hang out
And I become  encouraged and begin
To reach out to and just maybe do it wrong?

I don't know. I don't know. I don't really know.
I just know that they go away.
Sometimes they tell me they are going away.
They put down a boundary. They tell me that
WE ARE NOT GOING TO BE FRIENDS
And sometimes they just stop answering and go.

Am I doing something wrong?
Am I being too needy?
Trust me, I am pretty fucking needy
But I try really hard not to show it.
The truth is that I just don't know, I just
Don't understand how to bond with another.

So. Sixty years of being alone.
Sixty years of just wanting to love
Sixty years of just wanting to be loved.
Translates now, into alone, alone, alone,
And I still don't know how to do
Anything about this fuckin' problem.

Oh, Diana

I know it's not my fault
And that you are not gone
Because I didn't pick up
But how I miss you
How I wish I'd answered

And now years later
A song takes me back
And I cry and miss you
I know it's not my fault
That you are gone.

All all those times with late night
Drunken calls I answered
Every one. I answered every one
But one. How hard to hear
The message that you were gone.

I know it's not my fault
And you are not gone
Because I failed to answer
I know it's not my fault
But you're still gone.

Inspired

The world is full of such subtlety
Everyone with their message
From the banal to the creative
Some who think themselves bold
Some who think themselves subtle
Have no idea, have no idea
That their obvious message
Is obscure to the other.
Obscure in art
Obscure in design
Obscure in taste
(Food or fashion or else.)
Celebrate yourself.
Your obviousness is
Someone else's obscurity.
Don't sell yourself short.
You ARE the inspiration of the day.

Unravels

The smell of leaf mould
Somehow goes a place
    in my mind where pain
        gets caught.
It unravels it.

Smell of leaf mold
Sanskrit chants
Someone standing
    against injustice
The triumph of the underdog
All keep me alive.
They unknot despair.
They give respect to my trauma.
They soothe it.

Mental illness catches.
It knots. It mats and tangles
And gives the illusion
That there is no ease.

The smell of leaf mould
Goes to a place
    in my mind where pain
        is often caught.
It unravels it.

Masculine Oppression

Some times I do not want
To have my attention drawn
To a perfect breast or
A curve of lip or
A toss of hair.

No!

I want to see what
Is without delusion from
My genetics finding
Her genetics suitable
For procreation.

No.

Is she good?
Is she mindful?
Is she interesting?

Is she honorable?

Is she true?

Yes.

Some times
I do not want
My attention drawn
To a perfect breast

But still, it is.

You have

Fucked up you
Have fucked up
You have fucked
UP.

You make it too hard.

You don't try.

That tells me.

I am not important

To you.

When you figure it out
Maybe I'll try again.
Perhaps not.

Sometimes

Sometimes people understand
That they have screwed up.
But they have screwed up.

They want to fix it
They wish things were fine
But they have screwed up.

They present a new self
A nicer kinder self
But they have screwed up

They want to shape
My image of them
But they have screwed up.

They let me know how they
Really see me
But they have screwed up.

Want to erase
The disdain and nothing
But they have screwed up.

Should I forgive?
They want me to
But they have screwed up.

They let me know
How important I am to them,
But they have screwed up.

I actually see
How important they think I am
They have screwed up.

They think me worthless
They think me nothing
But they have screwed up.

I actually rule, don't suck.
If you don't value me
You have screwed up.

Good bye.

STEM Cat

Cats have an effect on women.
Not all cats, mind you,
But asshole cats –
Siamese or their children
That do not suffer fools gladly.

What an effect they have
On the women sort of children.
They demonstrate that women are
The goddesses that run
The universe.

No doubts.
We are the center
Of our universe.
Get in our way at your peril.

In exactly this way are
STEM women created.

Same Old Story

You have heard it
A thousand times
But here it is. Mine.
Fresh over again
In my pain.
I am head over heels
Tumbling in love.

And amazingly
She loves me too
Perfectly, completely.
Not like that.
Friends
I won't tell her.
I'll keep my dignity.

Boyfriends Are Like Shoes

Some pinch and hurt
They aren't a good fit
But oh! How pretty.

Others, comfortable
Dirty and worn
Get you through rough times

Entwine

Such a beautiful line
Her arm
Around
Across
Fingers graceful
Touching his neck

Random Jerkoff

Let's talk about being mentally ill.
For me, that means that I can be
having a great day,
That nothing goes wrong,
And that I end up filled with pain
And cutting myself.
Let's not talk about
What happens
When something does go wrong.

Depressed

Today is good
I'm up and showered
Not laying and crying
But the weight is still crushing
Tears aren't far behind my eyes
I hope nothing goes wrong today
Then maybe tomorrow will be better
Or maybe not

Generous

Generous like rain
Generous like baby's smiles
Generous like children's sticky hands
Generous like evening breeze
Generous like the earth
Generous like a seed
Generous like doggie kisses
Generous like love

Stalking Wolf

I breath in slow
Scents drift across —
I know there is something
Something –
What?
I can almost taste it.
It's an idea or a phrase
Or something.

I slow the breath more
Let it barely drift, drift
Drift against the back of my throat
Sliiiiiiiding along my tongue.

I don't want to frighten it
These ones easily startle.
Eyes unfocused
Looking aside
So it won't vanish
Everything is ears and taste
And some more subtle sense.

There!
Don't look yet.
Is it? Let it gather,
Let it become.
Ahhhhh. There is my prey.
I tuck my haunches and POUNCE!

Poem.

To Eternity

She sits compact
Gazing into eternity
One hand on the tiller
Wind in her hair
Sailing through the storms
Of life and of mental illness
And of temptation

Her small fragile boat
Is miles from any safe shore
At times it's almost awash
But she bails and sails
And mindfully, skillfully
Keeps aim for better shores

Speaking ONLY to my sisters/brothers.

Oh, what a strange thing for you to be confronted
With a poem from a mentally ill person.
Full of pain from abuse.
I am full of pain from abuse.
I. CAN. NOT. ESCAPE. THE. ABUSE.

I put that pain to sleep with pain.
I cut myself - that puts that pain to bed.
You look at me and see normal
You look at me and project normal.
I am not normal.
I am broken all of my life.
I am broken all of my life.

Does it seem normal to you
That I take an X-ACTO blade to my flesh?
The Z-Series blade is the sharpest
The longest lasting blade in the history
Of X-ACTO blades cutting flesh.

Oh, how I sorrow for you being disturbed
By someone like me that Cuts. My. Flesh.
Probably seems strange to you.
Probably seems strange to you.
Pain to combat pain.
Pain to put pain to sleep.
Pain to survive.
Pain to not kill myself.
There is an explanation.

Pain of the body makes the brain
Tell the body not to hurt.

Pain of the body makes the brain
Tell the body not to hurt.

PAIN OF ABUSE YEARS AGO 

DOES NOT TELL THE BODY NOT TO HURT.

Pain of the body makes the brain
Tell the body not to hurt.

It settles the pain of abuse.

It settles the pain.

I can survive another day.

I can survive another day.

Do NOT judge me.

You do not in any way understand

Unless you feel a pain like mine.

Unless you are my sister.

Unless you are my brother.

We see.

We see each other.

We love.

I love you.

Lies

We live in delusion
Choosing to say what is not true
Pretending to believe what is not true
Two steps away from what's real

How subversive it would be
What a revolutionary it would take
To drop away from the stories
And fly away into the real

done in response to a poem by +DEBORAH MORAA​

Alien

He grows, mysterious, unknown.
Alien and unwanted.
Tinted green he is absorbed
As he absorbs.

Discarded

I lay here broken
Waiting for someone
To dig me from the rubble
Unable to write poetry.

Waking Up

It is possible
And certainly certain
That I am wrong about many things
That I am sure that I know

Tonglen

Sorrow pours over like ink
Like gel covering – sealing
And I struggle, struggle

To take it in
To transform it to joy
To breathe it out

Grief Swallows Me

I am sorry
I am sorry for
I sorrow
Sorrow in unending supply

Magic Limerick

A chimp walked down the road
Carrying quite a load
He had a balloon
And he sang a tune
And this limerick sucks.

Monkey Play

A monkey swung upon a tree
Throwing poop at you and me
We covered our heads and ran away
'Cause that's not the way we want to play!

Sanctification

To serve means
To give my hands away
To let them be used
By a higher source
For a higher purpose
It sanctifies them.

Service Enlightenment

To serve takes me out of myself
My self disappears
My concerns for appearance
My concerns for image
All gone
All gone
Instead there is only other
And Service
And Spirit
And Love
To serve takes me out of myself
It's a well-trodden path to enlightenment

I Don't Know

I don't know what it might be like
To grow up happy without beatings
To grow up with love and with cuddles.

It left me so confused
So broken
I confuse love and lust

I never felt touch before
I've never known
Compassion - just compassion

Without romance.
It makes me so confused
So I am angry.

I don't get to know
What normal is like
I've always been broken

Thanks a lot.

Weather Surprise

Weather whethers us
With sudden showers
Overcast Days
Sunshine breaking
Magnificently through
And sometimes - comes
The storm of the century
We hunker down
Thinking that we are
Prepared or
Knowing that we are not
And wait, our fear sliding
Into numbness, numbness
Crushing into resignation,
Resignation dissolving
Into the certainty that
We will not survive!
And then. Gift. We do.

Haven

I give love
Held up by love
Learn and Grow
Gratitude
Music = satisfaction
Safe zone

dork fork

He called me dork
Not meaning cool

Like I would mean
No, his was hate talk

It made a fork with my truth
And so I walked away

Feel

I walk the beach
Something is dead
Half buried in the sand
Showing only its sand-swept head
And I wonder what it is
And should I feel something

Freedom

freedom
         wind
     fast
          hill
                 scary

       dangerous

  slicing

             curves
                     dainty
                             asian girl
wheels
         clatter
               sssssssssslide
                                   jump!
                                           
                                        Wow!!!

dance

dance
    bow
        civilized
            joy
        twirling
    spinning
ballooning
            skirt
                      swinging
                            ponytail
                      Jordan
            dances

Food is Hard

Fast or famine,
Food
And my relationship

With it
Is a touchstone touting
My State

Happy I thin down
Too excited by my joyful
Journey to remember to eat.

Depressed, I'm damaged
By Desire for food
And Weight weighs me down.

Caretake You

I want to look into your heart
To see your pain
To see what has wronged you
And do what I can to make you safe

I want to look into my heart
To see my pain
To see what has wronged me
And to do what I can to make me safe.

True at the same time is easy
Not true is something pretty fuckin' queasy
Can't stop loving, don't wanna
Can't fix shit, I am helpless.

Hurt Haiku

Hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt
Hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt
Hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt

Actions Louder Than Words

What are you doing? You pulse
Pulsar? Touch dream hard give
It to me I think that your life
Love is enough is enough
For a damn dream execution
Execution? Hardly such sentence
And you just drive pain
Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain
Into my fuckin' heart
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
You fuckin' liar.
You know what? Just fuck yourself.
You said you love?
You don't show it.
Actions louder than words.
Actions louder than words.
Actions louder than words, baby.
Show me me don't tell me.

You and Abuse

My abusers taught me
That I was worth-less
My abusers taught me that I
Couldn't be worth less.
So you can imagine my
Lack of surprise
My lack of surprise
That you are ashamed for
People to know that I care for you.
I have expected it my entire life.

Ashamed of Me

It is so hard to love
When you say you love me
But you act ashamed.

Of me.

Don't tie my heart into bondage
To abuse. To abuse.
I deserve love from someone
Who doesn't find
My love shameful.
Who doesn't find
My love shameful.

Let me go.
Let me go.
Don't hang on to what you despise.
I deserve better than that.
I deserve better than that.

It is so hard to love
When you say you love me
But you act ashamed.

Let People In

I spent my whole life being unlovable
Trying to just get by with this crappy life
Resigned to loneliness – hiding brokenness
Ashamed ashamed ashamed ashamed

Now I am trying something scarily different
Maybe there are people who would love me
Maybe I just have to risk – to let people in
That is the scariest thing I've ever thought.

Poetry With Patrick

Writing poetry
With other people
Is both better and harder
Than my solitary practice

Better because love
Of poetry and folk
Delight in bringing them together
The worse — wait for the end

Some want to leap into the void
Letting poetry leap to the page
Doing it in the company of others
Having companionable support

For others – more stressful
They wait to be sure that they
Understand the prompt
Fearful of doing it wrong

For me as leader
It is quite similar
To leading meditation
Guiding is not doing

Guiding is not doingl

I find it good to support
But I need more time to write!

Poetry With Patrick is an ad-hoc lunch-time group I am leading this April at the Saint Vincent de Paul Wellness Center. We meet Monday through Friday and quite exceptional things are accomplished. The participants fall into three groups.  First, clients, poor, some homeless, some of us mentally ill or with substance abuse issues. Second, there are volunteers from 18 to 80 motivated to help. Finally there is staff. Good comes from them writing poetry together.

Probably Wrong

It is possible –
Probably certain
That I am wrong
About many things
That I'm sure that I know

Tonglen

Sorrow pours over like ink
Like a gel covering and sealing
And I struggle struggle to take it in –
Transform it to joy and send it back out

Tonglen is a Tibetan Buddhist practice of breathing in suffering and discourse from the world, transforming it to settled peace to breathe back out, a gift to the world. I like it.

Broken Heart

I watch her try
It hurts so much
He's just not into her
And she's giving herself
Away on a fruitless quest
Not my place to tell her

If only he would understand
He's not into her
We can still make it work
He thinks she's controlling
How can I change so he'll like me
She's always angry
He said that's what he wanted
And wants to change me
Why won't he understand?
She doesn't like me as I am.
It will work if he'll just try

I don't see
How I ever thought
I was into her

What does he want?
How can I please him?
We can make it work.

Dedicated to Allyson because it is her birthday. I have been putting off writing this particular poem but I promised drinking and poetry writing in honor of her day.

Who Is She?

He, the center of the group
Thinks himself fraud
Tap dancing to cover it up.
And she?
She was visible as a reflection
Or as mother
Or? I don't know.
Frankly, it is hard to see her.

East to see him,
Creative
Artist
Poet
Misunderstood
Caring parent but
Clearly not that practical.

Who is She?
She holds it together.
Flashes of brilliance.
Clearly extraordinary
But
In their family man is the man.
Man! Is! The! Man.
Boy child celebrated
Girl child starving to be seen
Girl child starving to be seen.
(Trying to keep her under control
Is not the same as seeing her.)
That is a sad thing
She's so smart
Which? Both.
They are so broken.
Women matter too.

She Said

She said I had a fuckable spirit.
My spirit squeed (squee'd?) and grinned
And danced! Danced! Danced!
Ooh la la!

You Gotta Know

You gotta know my brain ain't like yours
Mental illness ain't like you have a bad day
I hear a crack like the snap of a belt
And I have visions, images, re-plays,
                Flashbacks!
Of beat beat beat tiny boy trying
To be good don't complain don't cry
Don't put back the hands
Cooperate while He
Beat on bare bottom with a leather belt
Crack Crack Crack
And I believe
I am nothing but shit.

That ain't for just a moment, minute, hour, day
That's days. Days of pain I can barely endure
Pain where I feel better if I take a blade and
Cut My Flesh
Cut. Cut. Cut.

Flashbacks need lots of good days
Lots of good days to ease up.
I never know that I won't kill myself
I never know that I won't kill myself
I just endure for now
Just endure for now
Practice my coping skills

Some say PTSD rewires brains
That I need to learn to cope
Because I won't get better
There's a cheerful thought.
I hope they are wrong
Isn't decades of this shit
Enough punishment
For someone else's anger?

Gerbil

Cute fuzzy gerbil
Only wants the food I give
Really not my friend

Siamese

Snooty Siamese
Disdaining all of the world
That's why I love her

Dancing Dog

There's a happy dog
He dances and leaps for joy
My saddened heart lifts

Mentally Ill

I like to say I am mentally ill
It's a package. Nice and clean.
Nicer than saying being beaten
As a tiny toddler boy taught me
Such HATRED for myself
Such powerful HATRED for myself
Hatred hatred hatred
That half a century later
I am still driven by it.
I still feel the burn of the belt.
Beaten beaten beaten
I still feel it realer than you
It is realer than you
You are nothing to my hate
Of me.
So I like to say I am mentally ill
It is nicer than what is real
What is real
What is real
I don't know
Mentally ill.

Paint Herself

Her quick skill
She marked two sides of the board
String aligned
Chalk on the string
SNAP
Line across.
Move the string
Chalk again
Hold it tight
SNAP!
Another line
Precision married to art
Did she paint the blackboard
Paint herself?
Paint herself?
Artist.

Can't Fix It

I see women attach themselves
To creepster crawly abusers
To predatory predators
Please baby, can I talk on the phone
To deal with medical issues?
For my child?
Please Baby?

Life in desperate poverty
Is that hard
Abused by one not many
Abused by one not many
My fucking God.
My heart is ripping apart

Can't fix it.
I can't fix it.
I CAN'T fix it.
Help. Help. Help.
Magic 3s
Fix it

Wait In Vain

Inhabiting our depths
Isn't transformation
We exist — eternal
Our job to swim in our sea

If you are waiting for transformation
You wait in vain
To heal wait no more
Your ills are not of the eternal soul

Discover yourself —
Be — without judging
Enlightenment is acceptance
Not cure

No Connection

Oh. I see you. You form relationships.
You are married. You have a boyfriend.
A couple! Together. Choosing another.
Oh how I wish I could find that!

I understand that you can do it
But I don't at all understand how.
Broken folk like me did not bind
Did not bind to a mom or a dad.

We do not know how to bind.
We do not know how to be friend.
We do not know how to be love.
We do not know how we do not know how.

I want folk. I want to love folk.
I want to be connected to anyone.
I want to be connected to anyone.
I want to be connected to anyone.

But I don't know how.

Frozen

To be frozen in busy inactivity
Frenetic quivering icicles
Not quite blocking the view of
What we  can  not  do (but should)
Is horrible.

The ice keeps crazing cracking
Trying to release us to our tasks
And frantically we patch the cracks
We pour a little water - freeze! freeze!
And try to keep our gaze averted
From What We Are Not Doing.


Community

Being mentally ill
Has down sides
I don't deny it
I am the first to say so

But unexpectedly
I have found community
People mentally ill
Like I am.

I have found people everywhere
That were invisible to me before
My life-long crazy mind
Got so bad I couldn't hide it.

They are all around and happy
To greet, to help, to see, to see me.
It is an invisible community
With entrance only by mental illness.

Dedicated to Lindsey

Face of Fear

I try to face my fears
Especially new ones
With the idea that
Putting that face to them,
Turning them toward me,
Lets me (hopefully)
Keep them smaller.

Ignored,
They grow
And overwhelm
And crush

I am crushed.

Today the cable
Under California Street
Growwwwwlled
Waiting to tug
Cable cars up the hill
And for a minute
I wasn't sure
If I could cross the street

It was so visceral.
It crawwwwlled
Under my skin.
My heart panicked
My unshed tears ached
The back of my eyes

But unwilling to give
In to another fear
Unwilling to give it
Space in my life,
When the light said walk
I walked

Pounding heart
Barely able to breathe
Through that cable of fear
Imprisoning my chest

Calmly

Slightly smiling

I walked.

Halfway across
The heavy iron cover
Vibrated and growled
Through the soul of my foot.

For a moment
It was a real possibility
That I would freeze
That I would retreat.

But I barely paused

Soldiering on

Being brave

Next time
I just happen to know
The cable car turns in the next block.
At Van Ness I can cross sans cable
And from there I can't see the fear's face.

Famous

I see famous people
And they are just like
Non-famous folk I know

What does it mean?
Why are they famous?
It seems an accident.

Don't Open

People want me to learn to take risk
To open my heart
To let people in.

OK. I tried it.
I breached my walls
I let someone in
I have kind of a friend
And you know what?
I am overwhelmed.

Loneliness suddenly
Towers over me
A galaxy dwarfing
Frightening
Scary
Powerful
Storm.

I want my walls back.
It is too much.

Cutting Kindness

You probably don't understand
Since I have no friggin clue
How I can take a blade
To my arm
And
Cut cut
Cut cut cut
And smile with relief
As my own beautiful blood
Runs down my arm
And sigh my ease and peace
And tell myself softly thank you.

I am trusting you
With my dark and terrible secret
Not in the hope of any redemption
Nor in the hope of your understanding
But just to let you know
That we are out here.
I am not alone.

Patient

Oh my sweet love
You are out there somewhere
And we may meet or we may not
But I will wait for you

You love and you care
And you think and you laugh
And you tend the plants
And you tend the lives

And you will make me laugh
And I will make you laugh
And we will read each other poems
That we wrote or we loved

And when times turn grim
And when grief strikes
And illness, and death
And we have little to give

We will give the little
And it will be more
And we will love through anger
And smile through fights

And grow. And grow.
And be. And be more.
And make something
Something more in the world

Oh my sweet love
You are out there somewhere
And we may meet or we may not
But I will wait for you.

How Dare He

I am having trouble speaking
Filled with such fury.
How dare he.
How. Dare. He.

Doesn't he know what he's done?

The gift of a chance of relationship
The gift of someone caring
The thing we all are looking for
And when it gets hard he throws it away
Like nothing
Like the garbage

And she's left in confusion
With her heart ripped jagged
Still trying to explain his heart
Thinking that if he just knew
It would work.

The Gift

The gift of your trust
Opening to me your pain
Brings me to stillness

Pulling

They walked quickly
I smiled to see them
Holding hands I thought
It seemed
So Romantic
But then i saw their faces

Each of them had that look
You know
When someone is stiff
Because they don't want
Their hand held?
Each of them angry
Around the eyes.
Each of them with that same
Slight. Cringe. Away.

As we passed i saw
Minimal touching
Stiff index fingers entwined
I wrote their stories for blocks.

Manic Shyness

She was amazed to find
Herself so over the top

Everyone responding she thought
To her energy, to her mania

Maybe this is what it's like
To be charismatic

Then someone asked,
Are you OK? You seem so quiet.

What?

I am losing myself
Bit by bit piece by piece
Forgetting the day
Forgetting the month
Forgetting the year

Forgetting the whats.
I remember that I knew
But it is gone.

Then the hows.
My brain knew how to think
Hard things. Complicated things.
It knew how to learn new hard things.
Now? All gone.

Now are going the thats
I am startled to read things
I wrote. I knew things that
Now I can't remember I knew.
In spite of the evidence.
I can't recover how to know that.

The other day someone scared me.
In a quarter block I forgot.
I spent days triggered in PTSD
and didn't know why.
I didn't remember that
It happened.
Then days later I did.
How did I forget that?

I am trickling away.
I am trickling away.

The Leaving of the Dark

The winter solstice
They call it the coming of the light
They call it the coming of the light
It is not the coming of the light.

No.
That's not the truth.
It is still the the time of the dark.
It is the time of the dark.
It is the time of the dark.

The dark is not done.
It is not gone.
There is still more dark than light
There is much more dark than light.

If you want to speak of the coming
If you want to speak of the light
Wait.
Wait for the equinox.

Then, with the Spring comes the light.
It is the day of the balance.
It is a day of balance.
The next day there is more light than dark.

Now we still have the dark
We still have its gentle peace
We still have its somber quiet
It is my time
Do not hurry it away.
I am of the dark.

Assembly

Are we assembled?
Each of us here,
Each of us with all our parts
Each of us coming together
Whether ready or not
Each of us becoming
Though searching,
Thinking, wait,
I need.
My parts!
Wait!
Each of us perfect
Each of us here
Each of us with all our parts
Coming together
Each with the Other
In Holy Assembly.
Together.

Time To Go

He was angry and alone
Stealing a few minutes
Just. A. Few. Minutes.
Of warmth
Of phone charging
Of time listening to
His sounds on
His crappy Obama phone.

Black and alone.
Angry black man.
Employees told to call the
Cops on sight.
On sight. Of. Him.
Call the cops.

It was wrapped around him
His pain. His anger.
His defense.
Cops approached hands on guns.
Time to go.
He moved slowly.
Reluctantly.
Preserving what he could
Of his dignity.
Time to go.

I felt his pain
And my relief.

Hurting is so much hurt

I suppose I could avoid caring
And avoid feeling this
GOD DAMNED PAIN
When I lose someone
That I don't even really know.

She's just a barista
She just makes me coffee
And laughs
And sings the orders
And shrieks for joy!
And tenderly checks
"Are you OK?"

I suppose I could avoid caring
But then I would miss
All of the time
All the joy
And I wouldn't even know.

I suppose I could avoid caring
But I won't.

(This poem is the second inspired by Rebecca!)

Discarded

It was just a cheap umbrella
And did its job as best it could
Until in one moment
Ripped by forces beyond its control
It was broken — torn — devastated

Then thankless
             abandoned
                    disdained

It was angrily thrown to the ground
Discarded

Better Lonely Than Afraid

I laughed as she thought that she wanted me.
I danced and leapt and she knew not my heart.
The joke was on me, though.
The one I wanted
Who may or may not want me,
(I don't know),
I will never ask – anything – because, really,
That would be way to much to risk.
Better to be alone.
Better alone.
Better lonely than afraid.
Afraid.

Philz

Today an angel
Made my coffee, (dark roast),
I paid the unicorn.

And a Half?

She said, "That is an idea and a half",
And is that sad because incomplete,
Or joyous because abundant?

Should I attend the whole
Taking the risk that thereby
I may lose the half?

Or would it be better to
Nurture the half trying to
Make potential immanent?

Sometimes a half an idea
Churns and wiggles and gallumps
Inside my brain then fades

I grasp for it, try to save it
But it turns from potential
To remnant to trailing mist.

Sometimes, though, if
I can keep myself from looking
Direct – can keep my gaze askance

It comes back and fills me
With such a sense of joy.
My old friend! How, forget you?

Space

Sometimes grief
Just needs a space
A gentle welcome
Comfort in the storm

Sometimes we have
To invite the grief
To give us space
Comfort in the storm

It's like a dance.
We bow or curtsy
Drawing closer or farther away
Comfort in the storm.

Oh. You Don't Even Know

The touch of your heart
Reaching out
Afraid to leave the world
Afraid to not touch the real
Undoes me.

Learn the violin.
Learn to sew.
Learn whatever
You fuckin' want

'Cause you know what?
You already have
A graduate degree
In heart.

Anything could happen.

This poem is about Chrystal, a barista at Philz at Golden Gate and Larkin. If you are in there tell her hi.

Strange

I walk down Larkin
And smile and nod
And say hello and
They smile too.
And all the time I feel.
I feel the sting
Of cuts under my sleeve.
I'm running LATE!
They didn't want to stop bleeding.

Upon Seeing an Anorexic on a San Francisco Street

I have something to tell you.
I have something to tell you.
But you already know.
So I will just say I love you.

Sometimes

Sometimes it is just the art
Of the shape of the lip
That makes my heart race,
And even though I know
I will never see them again
My heart races, and exults,
And I wish I really knew them.

They could be brilliant
And how I hope they are
Or an artist, that would just suit me
But I don't know and still
I want them so.
I want them so.

Sometimes the curve of a lip
Fills us with consuming fire
I don't know and don't care why
It is just satisfying that it is so.
It is so.

Sometime Trauma

Sometimes trauma is like this
I smile and talk and gently protect the world
As I wrap around pain. I don't cry. I don't scream.
How are you this evening? Read anything interesting?
My pain wants me to double. I smile. I lie.
Who wants to know that I disassociate?
Who wants to know of my images of violence?
Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Poet no More

Such fear. A few days
Or weeks
Of not writing poetry
Might mean what?
I can't even look at it.
I don't want to know.
My fear drives me back
To write again and again.

Sketching is too much sketch

The contrast of blond and fair
And everything else black
(Well not the shoes.)
Is interesting, but
Hard to sketch, plus
She's too close, the creep
Of looking (staring) from
Three seats away is more
Than I can endure,
So my sketch moves to
Poetry, to my words and
Then, contrasting again,
The feminine looking girl
Cracks her knuckles and
My brain leaps for joy upon
Exposure to my assumptions.

Enlightened is not Painless

Buddha said there is a path
We can escape suffering.
That sounded good to me.
Abused, filled with pain
And hating myself,
Embarrassed at my existence,
I knew suffering.
Stopping it sounded alright with me.

So I sat.

Beauty My Soul

The light,
Glitter-edged with darkness
Slices.
Sharp as a knife,
Sharp as a razor.
I flinch away,
Then dutiful,
Turn back
Greeting the pain.
Damn it!
I'm going to grow my soul
Beautiful even if it kills me.

Borracho

Los poetas nunca describe
Cómo es estar borracho.
Es porque estan borracho.
¿Que piensas?

I See You

I see you

Working in your dead end

Barista job. 

What I see, and what you see
Are different.

I see Madonna,

I see Love,

I see Joy.

You see Toil,

You see Pain,

You see Struggle to Survive
 

I love you though we'll never meet.
I see you.

Sometimes

Sometimes women, or I suppose men,
Try too hard, with their simpering effort
To touch, to influence, to be what I need.

I am repulsed, I yearn for simple truth
That is true. How far you've lost yourself.
How can you present such counterfeit?

Love yourself
Learn yourself.
Be yourself.

I'll love you.

Can It?

Louise Penny asked (through Ruth),
If it was too much for a poem
To have 'asshole' and 'shithead'
In the same sentence.

What sort of asshole shithead would say no?
Certainly not me! I'm not Republican.
Let's let language just be.
Let's say the say that makes us free.

Evolved Am I

I beat!!!

Distemper

My song, a song of distemper
Is a song of a broken and unsettled life.

Your song, soothing like a
Mother's love in her hand
Stroking away the tension in her child's brow.

My wings, shriveled and tentative
Await their time to grow
Their song waiting to be sung.
We'll sing it when we are strong.

Delicious Rain

Age four or five
Safe outside
Early morning chill
Wishing for a shirt
Waiting for warmth

The driveway
Already warming in the sun
Blesses my feet
So quickly I lie, belly to warmth
Back to chill air.

The campaigning heat
Dominated encroaching chill

And so I lay
Deliciously embodying
The perfect contrast
Between warmth and cold.

Then!
I think I feel a tiny
Spring drop
Of rain on my back.

I raise my head to
Scan for dustings
Of concrete wetness
But see none.
Mistaken?

I put my head down
Aware – waiting – again, another?

Scanning once more and there
A spreading speck, a blossom
Of darker grey

And there another
And there another
And then releases gently on my back
The benediction of Spring rain.

Ahhhhh!
Belly soaked warmness
Dominates
Increasing coolness behind.

Spots are few
Then merge
Then gone
Wetness all around

And!
Rain chill campaigns
Again against
Belly warmth
And triumphs!

I leap and greet my shadow self
Silhouetted in dry grey
And run
Gasping cold
For the house.

Feel It?

Bacon is cooking
Sizzling hot grease is popping
Bare belly cringes

Not Worthy By Half

It would be so simple
If I were just victim.
I mean I am. I am victim.
I am abused. I am broken.
My PTSD damages me
Right to this day.

But sadly. But unfortunately.
I have also damaged other people.
I have been the bad guy too.
It makes me feel that I don't get to
Get well.
It makes me feel that I don't deserve to
Get well.
It makes me think, "Who do I think I am?"
And not get well.

Just like I am broken, there are people
In this world. Broken. Because of me.
How can I complain about my abuse,
About being whipped with a strap
Until I had welts and bled,
About being abused sexually by those I loved,
When I didn't get better quickly enough and
I broke people too.

I didn't get better quickly enough and
I broke people too.

I am so mad at myself.
I hate myself so much.
I am so horrible.
I don't know how
To let myself get better.
I don't think I deserve to.