Athena

To all the ex's

all the shiney heads

all the finger nail wax

to every crushed coke can

to each marble in the purple wine slip

beneath my grandmother's counter top

beneath all of her and Joe's pills. 

beneath the pile of mail

beneath the places I remember cereal and crumble sweets. 

To the way of life I grew up in love. 

Land. I grew up in loveland, no shit and i've got plotted land 

:or is it potted land? potable water? definitely high ceilings.

clear windows, fresh white paint streamed by sunlight. 

In my mind I see myself in all the settings I arrive in. 

On stage, In a play, playing Stratego with Ryan late into Christmas morning.

It must be strange to be a boy and grow up beside a girl. 

To see her take such shape before your eyes. 

To watch her take reigns of her own secret knowledge. 

By now, I've spent 6 summers  here. 

Back porch candle light second story studio

The power lines sure have blended into the night sky nicely at half past midnight 

But does time really matter? 

Isn't it arbitrary? 

People are working in the night. 

Lots of people work at night. 

Night is just as good a time to work as day. 

In fact during the day time, it's just too darn HOT to do much work these days with summer approaching

Which brings me back to you. 

you ex lover, you past marble breakfast -brother thought, turned syrupy. 

you. heat. hard. hot. man. 

Ajax. firm. Adorable. Simple. Sweet. Kind to the animals. 

sexy. hilarious. I'd love to watch him just sit by the campfire and fall in love with his war bride. 

The love they shared was real. 

The kindness she had was honest. 

The child they had was a son. 

It always goes like that doesn't it.  

to the son. to the son. 

Well guess what, I want to objectify the men and I will. 

Because I can.  

I will set you down and slice your throat. 

I will crush your ego and pin apart your soul. 

I will destroy you. 

I have snakes inside my bosom.  

And I'm unwed. 

You can see me can't you?  

I'm right here.
Why, I'm watching you from this stage watch me and these players. 

This story is about how the great Goddess survives. 

How she inhabits herself fully 

And manifests her own reality.

_______ poem ends here _______

_______But I just kept writing about my experience in the play, "Ajax: in Iraq"____

So, yeah, I'm a little method.  Yeah, so I like to get myself preparred to take on the She herself.  Athena.  

I need to do nothing but coordinate with my scene partner the grunts.  And dance inside the gestation of my masterpeice.  

It's not enough to tell you about Ajax I need to tell you about What I'm doing to AJ as well.  I'm reminding you of them.  Because they remind you of ME.  Of what happens when you go against nature.  You See What happens when a man crosses that line?  

All it takes is a day, is the best line of the whole show.  The world can change in an instant.  The right thing could happen at any moment.  In fact it is happening.  I'm not making it happen, but I'm watching, predicting, meddling, playing with.  Walking among.  Jogging beside. You bow down when I walk past.  You all honor me greatly, and you do right to do so. I am lifted and pledged alliegence to the globe that founded me.  I am the waters and desert. I am the Mountains and great Valleys, the clear water beneath the Mayan lands. Not that the Mayans owned land.  They didnt have the ego of others who came later with markers and maps, flags and ownership...The idea of MINE. The idea....that can never exist.....for too long. 

I am going to break the silence.  I am going to talk to you again.  Through her, the actress. I am going to have an intervention. We will speak. It is hardly a moment in time when I am not with you.  Just at the root of your navel, the warmth in your womb. Can you feel it? You can can't you?! yes. 

I never thought it would get this far! I mean I DID, like I knew it would...but still today things can just be done.....in a board room.  Emphasis on BORED!!!!!!!

Come on give me the heros!!! give me the Mastery of weaponry!!!  You've gotten so tied up in your ego you've driven yourself so far from nature that there is absolutely no going back.  #brexit! Mayhem let loose. 
---Now, it depends who you believe.....do you believe that the world is round or flat? 

Do you believe you go in a straight line to history or a circle? or is it a spiral?  Similar to the spiral pattern of our solar system as it hurls itself through dark space? 

Dark space like the warmth I feel in my belly....er my...beneath my belly.  In my womb.  These are my letters to god, these are my letters to theGoddess.  

She tells me we are all in her womb and mine grows warmer.  Like a water bed, except comfortable.   

Point is, I have and will never be dominated.  I rule the sky and sea and universe and the womb. Inside each woman is a holy space in which I reside.  So if you start fucking that place up--- The woman will be discombobulated for lack of a better term and her internal shrine co-op'ed by the patriarchy. 

Late March brought clouds three days in a row now

So of course you come to mind
the day i cave
give in and eat a slice a pie
that i fake enjoy
or kind of do
but inevitably don't
unless you understand, you won't.

It was Vermont Ave. and Los Feliz theater and all the old spots
where your beguiling good looks charmed me.
See when the days are chill like they are today, the clouds congregate
and two or three drops made it to my head,
engulfed in asle 'HH' at The Greek,
I thought of the 'one single tear' shot you'd romanticize about
detachment forced upon the one who promised to hold.
Like when you noticed I'd gone,
further adrift,
into an invisable wall for lightning bugs.

And I know you're doing fine.
 I know you are. I know you are.
but there is really no way for me to know
you are.

So I talk about you over pie to my employer.
Key Lime pie.
Whipped Cream. Small bites.

Home, to a new prescription pill
Mahalia Jackson and an old habit
strung out like some stocky bowler's pitch
I resolve to reach for you.

To reach out.
To sing a heartsong over all them cars
n' step with you in a summer dance.
To swim over to the island you dropped anchor at
n' lick up around your feet when you stand ashore.
Just to push-in on you, frothy.
To wrap myself around you one more time.

The SuperHero And His Charming Wife, Inspired Poem

I Get Messy When He Leaves

I get messy when he leaves.

I throw everything everywhere

Relishing in my space

relishing in the choices that I get to make 

because It's only me.  

My god it feels good to be alone. 

How deep into the sand the urchun buries herself in order to feel the pressure. 

Thin
excoskeleton thin,

the way she likes it. 

and Complete Choas
Filth

composed dips,  fragmented light
rare warmth only sometimes finds the sand
above the sand
above her.

going against the grain up my face I splinter

have to spliter 

Over nothing I will whip you

over soup, destroy you. 

Over draft. Almost Home. 

Retirement.

Not right now though.
Not when I'm here.
Printer teatering over the refrigerator ledge, a bottle of Nair facedown on the floor 

and me all perched up in warn out yoga pants
Top Dawgin'

just me 'n my goose bumps

realizing that I refuse nothing but being rubbed the wrong way. 

Punishment of such:  branding
with an obviously blunt re-write like a baseball bat to the side of

brain tissue

only the brain tissue is my own....

I like to feel pain.
for some non reason it's that I can know that I have the power to.
Feel pain.

Not right now though. 

Right now I'm a foggy sunday spring day in LA

on the fringe. 

west. 

And ain't nobody but me and my mess!

Janga pile 'a mail straddling tile and fake wood floors. Probably both formica. 

Hardback books tilt with bookmarks made of chapstick or blue pens.

5 of the 4 drawers, tounges out

Silks and socks
A jar full of walnuts, wrinkled sheets!

& DON'T EVEN GO IN THE KITCHEN!!!

Until I have to I will stay wild.

I will not know how to do anything 

I will cost you money

dent your ego. 

challenge your prowl with a sky full of queen bees and they will drive you over
while I'm more or less underwater
My ancestors' kingdom of skulls

Beneath the all of everything

---
---
---

You'll be up in your boat. 

Tahoe Mountaineering. 

Swimming by with some otha jazz trombone
While I --

---
---

Miles deep intensity wears like boots

That's some scorpion.

--

He comes tonight

Back to share existance with me here

until the next molting

----------

My face when Colin took it circa 2014 or #tbt

Maybe what I think I'm saying here is, 

I'm a dog gone goony gal!

<3

But thats not all,
probably it is.  but Colin would want something else entirely and we're all not sure what it is.
None of us do.
For any of us.
Colin stood on his tub tile so the light would be just right.
Curtain rod behind his neck.
"Go forth," he tells me in not so many words,
"Go Get it!"
You and your crooked tooth!
At least that's what I got that Santa Monica day Colin took my picture.

Binge watching Homeland may lead to questions of similar kind.

It's starting to rain
Inside
And I'm feeling the weight
And I'm eating to go inside
Forever. 
And the missing reports
And files
And people
And children
And all of it, weakens my capacity for love
I don't understand 
How does my phone know everything 
Calculating and un feeling
Music plays in all of our ears, 
But what is the song?
What is the cry?
What is the ringing?
Is it a bell
Or a bomb?

Are we working for the dream that our life means something?

Liken me to the needy man just outside the 7eleven, or the liquor store. The woman just sat down next to me I'd rather not engage with. Id rather not open my skin. Just not anymore. Tonight. 

It hurts to do it, and I do it often. I'll do it I suppose again and again and again and again. Circling like a plow into the space beyond the night star sky. I wonder how the farmer feels, knowing how many mouths he's feeding. I wonder how the man feels who makes the boats that the fishermen float on. Does he think of death approaching himself as he knows the ropes drag the creatures out of their breathing pools ? Does anyone get it? Are there philosophers I should read? Or would I sink even further into the never mind this mess. 

It's a successful day when I can simply wash my own hands without tumbling down the staircase of looking back. 

And I keep reaching. It's a desperate float, don't have to tell me how it looks when I dance. But what I know, is the more I shit off this clicking pencil drawer mind, when we all for those brief moments fall in line with the rhythm of this paradise, it's the most satisfying grip of lost known to our kind. 

Praying you're able to see how touching you brings me hope

one day there will be a recovery program called iphone anonymous Or January in Southern Cal

I had chocolate today

its made up for the lack of movement. 

when the skies grey up like this 

part of me spiders in

curls

its a matter of sinking really

and I can only seem to hear the soft folding of my leggings each time my knees bend

its not even a sound, more of a kiss

I enjoy my legs in the sleeves of stretchy fabric

more than Kyle does

his stimulation is sourced elsewhere 

as is mine really

stuck in the nasal passages inside this running face

running into the sheets

running into my hands as I remember the things I was supposed to do are un-do-able today

(national holiday)

plus the overcast-ness 

but it was rather nice Saturday

the fog at night

over the boarded up shanties lining the mostly abandoned Venice Beach

muffled the bench v can argument from one bearded slinger to what may have been a woman

I was too far away and didn't have my glasses

he was yelling at her for something

but my sneakers and Kyle's boots already had resigned to look at the big black water
first time this year
sleeping bag clouds slowly receded their nonsense sounds

expansive

the dark widening edge

the mass of darkening grey floating overhead

drifting pirate ships swam across the moon

Buffalo gals won't ya come out tonight 

won't ya come out tonight won't ya come out tonight?

buffalo gals won't ya come out tonight 

and 

dance....

she wasn't full
she was sifting in and out of sight 

there was no use
my chin let go we were nearly there

the waves hooked something in my chest 

a pulling then crashing source surrounding splashing around the sound in the divots of our ears

I imagined the great squid
drumming underground in a deep salt stadium  

I called to her, "Help me--

this new trip around the sun again?

wtf?"

crashing smash

cool froth sipping my fingers, "Take me with your momentum

take us both and teach us how to play under there!"

"Send me your coasting current!"

something to fall back on...

to know -- to know that something's there

Only the slumbering fog

sand beneath me caved

this grey fog'll stick around all month

clinging is a type of winter here