Monthly Archive: September 2016

my X’s

in the dream
it was another one of my exes
my sorta-ex-wife #3
whom I hadn’t seen in years

she looked good
wore a short, white skirt
and a dark, sporty halter top
and her hair spilled down her
smooth brown back
like tupelo honey

she had just done something
that made me jealous
but I couldn’t remember what
or with who

had she danced with someone
and lingered too long in their arms?

had I just seen her glance across the room
at someone else in the same way she used to look at me?

had I come home and discovered betrayal?

I didn’t know

who can keep track?

the love of my life redux

dreams have a way of sneaking up on you
so that if you’ve felt something in your life
that you haven’t gotten a real handle on
it will reappear in different guises
again and again

sometimes years apart
sometimes dreams apart
sometimes nightmares
sometimes they just wind down and out
and are over

doesn’t matter when
doesn’t matter what
doesn’t matter who
doesn’t matter real or imagined

in the dream, we had only just ended things
but there was still screaming and fighting
there were still tears, bitter and sad and red

I might have done other things instead
but in the dream I could not

it was as if I was locked in
a chamber of my past longings
bound by fear and regrets I could hardly remember

I barely recalled
who I had been
that version of me
who in the dream acted with the same stupidity
the same pigheadedness
the same lashing out with blame

at this late stage
the dawn was starting to
eke into everything

nothing could be held any longer

I turned on my side
and in one way or another
in waking life
I had only just
started to smell the tea
brewing that morning
by someone I did not yet remember
before I rose from sleep


we must have been early
or come in the wrong door
when we walked into the chapel
they were still sweeping the floor

the flowers were out in their
golden straw baskets
and I looked at my mom
lying in her bird casket

I hadn’t had time
or felt the urge yet to weep
when I saw here right there
presented asleep

her left arm no longer
clutched up to her chest
her hand wasn’t curled
up into a fist

as peaceful as she could
seemingly be
I burst into tears
as she let me go free

my brother in law
gave me a pat on the chest
and I stood there and looked
at her lying in rest

she’d birthed me back then
about fifty-five years
as I looked on
while everything cleared

her coffin showed birds
taking flight in the sky
and I felt her beyond
as I said my goodbye

extra teapot

Mrs. & Mr. Bigelow
always had a place to go
teapots each in every room
but never could they quite assume
that pots around might double back
and brew right up a tasty snack

Mr. asked her once again
if Mrs. had a secret friend
but then the pot thrice circled through
and Mr. had a rendezvous
neither asked to wonder why
knowing pots would never lie

Mrs. opened anyway
while Mr. had a Groundhog Day
and by and by beheld by none
all beliefs then came undone
since extra pots as all can see
forever brew this mystery


it’s kinda symbolic
in this action-packed episode
even though it is obvious
to appear on stage
people must effectively
learn that most authentic
ancient aliens
may have known about
the pundits recent gaffs
before they even happened

finding that
the authentic or heartfelt self
has a main objective
to challenge the bombast
that people most effectively
respond to

the aliens watched a feed
that shouldn’t exist

it showed
a little boy spilling his
red wagon full of blocks
and crying and crying
oh boy, did he cry

so his mom
ran up the hill
but couldn’t reach him in time
to soothe his woes

and as he watched her
getting closer
yet slowing down as the
hill got steeper and steeper
he dreamed of things being different

and though he had wet his pants
and scraped hair
off the top of his head
with a comb made of shrieks

he saw himself shining bright
in a tower he had built
from the very blocks he had spilled

and his red wagon
became a bulletproof limousine

and his mom became a beautiful woman
whose cheeks he could stroke
with the flat of his palm

he wondered why the hill
it still shrieked at him
in that same level voice
that he had once
really wanted to stop

Penny Whiskey Hawthorne

Penny Whiskey Hawthorne
never held a grudge
but he lied his ass off
right before the judge

Tickle took a pretty treat
held it in her hand
never felt a thing so sweet
all across the land

They met inside a holding cell
beside the hallowed house
Penny’s face all grumpy
Tickle’s like a mouse

Their sentence was atrocious
yet had been heard before
several incarnations
embodied in the Corps

Manifest as people
in a place called Earth
it didn’t really matter
they forgot it all at birth

Lifetime after lifetime
they had to do the time
sticky wicket bumpkins
paying for their crimes

Love and hurt and love again
passing through each death
didn’t matter much each way
another baby’s breath

Tickle was the first to go
though that was not her aim
she liked the way her feelings flowed
and then release just came

Penny was the harder case
his verdict was severe
every time he felt some grace
he found a deeper fear

He numbed his ride with sorrow
and anger fueled by pride
he didn’t know tomorrow
left yesterday inside

Then one day a sickle
fell across his brow
and he remembered Tickle
and opened anyhow

Penny Whiskey Hawthorne
took his well-earned bail
he hit the road with Tickle
and they left that cleansing jail


top of heap:
talk to Danny and Barb about life-changing move (Prague? Florida?)
schedule massage
look at Andres’ Windows laptop (worth fixing?)
start Pilates beginner mat class
learn Dragon Speak
try Flanagan neurophone
replace the black Berkey filters
schedule trip to Florida

OS X Sierra (find alternative VPN after)
iOS 10

Legoaize Leaper
Aaron Sorkin Masterclass
set up NAS drive

almond flour
new standing lamp
super soaker rifle (for goats)
Yunnan large leaf pu-erh
yellow sticky notes (this is the last one!)
Zellie’s peppermint gum
all-meat cat food (not rabbit)

Movie Mind Machine
Holy Hell
For the Love of Spock
Train to Busan
Hell or High Water
Hieronymus Bosch, Touched by the Devil

Don’t Try to Make a Living Writing Short Stories
The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian
The Bone Clocks
Daily Rituals: How Artists Work
Crooked Little Vein

revise HeartRealm, USA
all 2016 write a poem every day!

undo fear
“This world was over long ago. The thoughts that made it are no longer in the mind that thought of them and loved them for a little while. The miracle but shows the past is gone, and what has truly gone has no effects.” ACIM T-28.I.1:6-8
“There are far more wonders to perceive through this inward exploration than you can possibly believe until you begin such a journey for yourself. You are a soul; you are a particular manifestation of a soul, and it is sheer nonsense to think that you must remain ignorant of the nature of your own being.” Jane Roberts, Seth Speaks (Prentice Hall, 1972) p. 95, Session 528, May 13, 1970
Bleating Hearts Will Love These Soulful Portraits Of Goats

your choice

take your time deciding
who you want to be
still ensconced in endless peace
or spreading misery

moment after moment
the choice is up to you
suffering or love itself
is all you have to choose

check your expectations
wide open at the door
if you don’t make the effort
they’ll be forever more

happiness or conflict
the difference is quite clear
both proceed from what you think
like looking in a mirror

now you know the secret
of fear or else of joy
the one you hold most often
you’re choosing to deploy

XYZ fair

on behalf of all X everywhere
we say it is NOT FAIR that only Y% of Z are made by X
and we will not idly stand by
while our basic human rights are being
violated in this egregious manner

X unite!
do not allow such repression to continue

fight the X employment/pay gap!

we must demand equal opportunity and representation
in the creation of Z

no longer can X be portrayed in such a stereotyped manner!

our time is now!

example X† values:
{toupee-wearing white bigoted males}
{transgender albino developmentally disabled persons}
{untalented creators}

example Y† values:

example Z† values:

†please add your own


we try as we might
to take it from here
but what we should do
is exactly not clear

our world’s gone all wrong
from the dreams that we had
and they’re telling us now
that our assumptions were bad

from the top of the heap
to the bottommost pile
we can hardly now sleep
it’s been quite a while

there’s danger within
and fighting without
it’s starting to crumble
of that there’s no doubt

the last time we looked
our actions were wrong
and that’s why we now
no longer belong

we tried to mature
and be running the show
but somewhere along
we lost all our dough

by now we had thought
we’d be using space travel
but that was before
it began to unravel

our legacy seems
to be fading away
and it might be too late
for saving the day

we should have done this
and could have tried that
but it won’t help us now
long after the fact

the truth is we knew
we’d run things aground
perhaps it will help
the next time around

more turnings will come
our time is past due
where things go from here
it’s now up to you


it goes without saying
that when fuel doesn’t flow
and structures collapse
and people hate because of fear
or fear because of hate
and our nose for news
feeds on death and suffering
war and privation
terror and intolerance
then that’s when
a particular invitation
will be received
in the background
like a soft hum
like an SOS
like a cool spray of water
across sweaty brows
on a hot, humid day
yet spreading relief to all
like a plague
like cool, colored fabric waving in the breeze
like a stretch of unbroken
non-ceremonial ease
and then, as news dies down
opinions dissolve and gently find other
forgotten things
like children continuing to play and laugh
hungry or overfed as they may be
dirty and poor
or rich with care
under stars that shine
throughout the night
for eyes made freshly receptive
and souls laid fully bare
while that glowing shine
touches other times
and beings we’ll all someday be
as representatives of
heart-wise humanity