dirt verse

the link between sanity and insanity is but a snap: almost like a twig beneath your shoe in november and what happens when you can't leave your home because your anger and fear keep you prisoner, and all you want to do is be loved and be good at loving and quit hating everything including the cheap folgers coffee when you really wanted the good stuff from central market or why you can't reach your mother anymore because her pain is rearing it's ugly head over the phone and your siblings don't have much to do with you anymore, why? who really knows, maybe it's because you are becoming the one thing they hate the most but you don't know what that is and in two months you'll be 36 and you still do not have children and you are in financial ruin and you don't have the one thing you really want which is that front porch swing, but first you have to have the front porch. anyway. right?

they remind me of the future their wrinkles and movements and memories I love how the past follows them in the door, and then back out again and how I get to flip through them picture by picture

he held the bottom of my long hair between two fingers, one finger grazing my skin just above my jeans he said, cut it

you said, in a car, in that parking lot, with your sister looking at me like I was a piece of shit, with that look in your eye, I was just a kid, and you were so mean, you said that "life is not the big blue sky and flowers you think it is, stupid, little girl". above it all, disgusted, bitter. that thing you said was wasted on me because I've never looked up at the sky without looking down first and I can kill a flower with only my fucked up energy, just for the record.

my new girlfriend on my patio flicking her cigarette and waving her smoke away but I don't care because I'm laughing at her or with her and she seems to be the only person who will actually speak to me these days besides my lovely love and she always has something to say and it's never all that positive but she puts it into a lovely package with her doe-eyes and her heart-shaped mouth and she is a total boy but she likes fish nets and she loves to smoke and drink coffee with me and she loves the number 6

tonight realized again, because sometimes I actually forget, and fool myself into thinking I am worth something, when I'm not, even though I am on a better path, I self-destruct again and again with only a few words, in only minutes, I am back to the nothing and dirt i've always been and will ever be, that is the truth that pulls me back by ponytail hair. and this is the only thing in my heart tonight.

this is my 50th blog entry, and I must say, I simply adore big, nice round numbers, and now, I will go off to bed and stare at my husband for hours life is a sweet bitch at times.

were a tree bending over, accepting of high winds, with my beautiful willow branches scratching the ground, never asleep, always alive in the way dirt is if I could sleep without something to swallow, if my head would just let me go

now I'm scared that if I actually leave, I'll never come home again, I'm going to make a list of what I need to do today and tomorrow just to function, first by getting off this fucking computer, out of control again, heads up

I was going to call my friend today, one of my new friends, but then I realized how hateful I would be if I actually got to speak to her. I am feeling an ugliness that can kill a person slowly or maybe I had to much coffee, but still

now that I'm done, I'm in the middle, and sick of being with myself the way myself used to be about 6 months ago I can feel it sucking me from the jaw down to my feet, across my chest, rotting my hands, stealing the gloss away from what is outside my door the truth is I am afraid of life, as boring as that sounds, afraid of conversations that lead to questions- I have idea what to even say anymore numb effects of one trying to become what one clearly is not loser again, is it ok to do that

for the first time in years, she is cooking every single meal, she is packing lunch for spouse, she is making coffee at 6am, only having slept maybe 2 hrs, she is wearing a bra, she is putting clothes in their spots, she is going to grocery, she is sweeping up strange lint from floor, there is fruit and bleached surfaces, there are fresh flowers, the trash is not haphazard, the bed is made, the bed is made, the bed is made. there is peace for now

just so you'll know, I'm using those dish towels you embroidered for me, the days of the week, little hens holding baskets, a rooster rocking out with a guitar for Tuesday, today is Tuesday, so. the last conversation we ever had, I was calling you to say thank you for the wedding gift, I said that the towels were much to pretty to actually use, so I put them away, but now that you are gone, I am making good use of them, today is Tuesday, I miss you.

that - when I set down a lid or plate, or anything that is round, it just spins and spins for minutes on a flat surface, and when I go to stop it, my hand only vibrates to the beat, and this won't stop maybe - that is the order of things, disorder *I remember that for some reason my mother let me live outside our home for days and weeks on end across town with a wild girlfriend, watching me spin until I just came home.

or for 5 days. is it ok for people to leave their lives behind once and again, not change, not abandon? in doing so, setting their titles aside for just a minute or so. the deal is, i just think people should belong to their own souls without being questioned or judged, that's pretty much my stance. no soap box, just belief in the (self).

decided to clean my apt, much needed task, as I've been away mostly, and I wanted to do this in style, so I piled my hair up like Liz Taylor and applied liquid liner in Bridget Bardot. see cleaning can be good and blaring some 311.

(you have no use for me that is because i have no use doesn't matter what happens around me do you now see)?? so...... -this is what happens when you listen to old-old music and turn back about 18 years. looking at the sky with 30something eyes, chasing down my fears with the only color I can relate to both happiness and sadness I miss the former chaos, but I like the taste of this one all the same.

and as you can see, I'm not one to fight it down here, around there with my dark head held in familiar position of acceptance - not reluctance but not subserviant right. and as you can see, I leave it to God and keep my shoulders back, when I think about it these are my lips sending my Mother (my best, all my love, my strength, my tidal wave, my faith) these are my arms closed over my chest these are my eyes, looking forward because that's how the world wants it, right.

I'm past bedtime and coffee I'm getting older and stimulation grows on trees for me

she's just a gray-eyed beauty she's only an inch from perfect she's just across the room with her deep brown skin and hair that sweeps her face she darts her gaze to the left it was art to me

can you see it from the road? now that the world is through with us as girls, can your eyes as a grown woman see the fire, Erma? I bet you were crouched behind the tree from a safe distance watching with slanted brown eyes. I know you must have cried when your room busted like a cherry, your cherry. The room we fell asleep in, licking sour sugar from our palms, blaring heavy metal from a little radio, flashing small boobs at traffic. now that the world is through with us, now that the house is nothing but black dust.

roll the flavor of this day to the tip of my tongue where my perception is tart (tartness; sour; good), and not unbearable like at the back of my throat, where the pain resides so how could candy ever find a home here? anyway, just a thought about the way my tongue receives messages, and I like the way a lifesaver sucked down real good feels against my crooked front teeth and sent down to my stressed stomach appreciated by my heart hardcore

I know I will spend 3 days crying when you get taller and your hands stretch out like those of a young man when your supple cheeks fill with the taste of girls or alcohol or fast driving maybe you will remember that nano the way I have loved you with more than even my own soul because

i accept that i was born to look into you, and lay my hands on your chest, that i was meant to hold your head and spin my dark heart towards you, that you will never understand this kind of need and that's because you are the one i know now, that is how i will pay for what i did years ago penance, can you hear me breathe all the way to your bed, hear that i am paying with the secret that lies inside rose quartz, pink and still.

i am sick with what you give me. i take it with the gladness of Juliet, with fervor, with the blast of what the blindness of love can bring even though . . . . i am feline with the probe of meow, the bitch, and service I will always hold in my palms they belong to you I can't take my mind off of it

here I am following your every move, yes you two in the blue smocks with your non-lips and silver teeth, you with your rugged hands and water cascading out of yellow buckets that smell like cinnamon tonight how can I express my gratitude? should I a) just simply follow you around until you reach the 20th floor with your cleansers, or b) throw myself around your lower half, tugging at your clothes filmed in bleach and filth maybe you can leave a crooked hair from your head on my desk, that will have to do.

all colour equals black absence of colour, white this being said me being brown am I the colour outside a visible spectrum? or a lost bubble with the iridescence equivalent to shadows cast by charcoal skies and a storm and the moon and the colour white or not

sis as you well know, or maybe forgot, whatever, I am full of crazy, little moles, there is one directly under my left eye, and it's been there since forever, but for some reason I forgot about it, and sat trying to scratch it off, until I finally realized it hurt and that it was supposed to be there, now my face is puffy there which is great because tomorrow I start beauty school, yeah!! that's really awesome! and this will be a load off to you I'm sure, I finally found a clear tote that not only meets school requirements, it's fashionable, and a steal at Target. I was going to call you but decided this type of useless rant is truly best expressed in writing. my life is changing tomorrow, that's big for a woman who usually divides her mornings between laundry and soap operas. love sis

make that plural, tacos!!! because I can't just eat one, no sir, two crunchy regular tacos please! it's just meat, just so-so cheese and tired lettuce, just a taco shell... taco bell, I am a Mexican, and I'm not supposed to love you, but I love you

today she would have turned 85 today the Holy Father died i hardly ever rhyme intentionally, but some days call for it as she rests that he may rest as well and that's it as I begin april

another affliction, which I think of as a gift to the world in my immediate area, maybe stretching it's helping-hand out to the out there , so anyhow...I believe that I save peoples feet and tires, basically punctures to any softer surface by picking up nails, screws, bolts, hooks, metal-things, you name it, I pick it right up and place it in my pocket. I gather these metals/rusty pieces, and place them in my car or my home, or a plastic bag. This way they won't hurt anyone or take out a tire, maybe an entire family won't get a flat on their way on vacation, maybe they won't swirve and hit anyone, and they'll all live? Maybe a some kid won't have to get a tetanus shot because they stepped on a rusty nail left behind by carpet installers or careless hands. Humor me, maybe this protection I offer bounces back and saves my family on the road and in their lives. But then again, all kids have to step on something rusty just once, that's a right of passage. Carele

tragedy: My mom gave me a birthstone necklace for my birthday in 1976; pewter spikes like sunshine or a starburst surrounded the tiny stone. Since then, I've kept it safe and when I take it off at night, I look at it and then without fail, place the necklace in box or a cloth. But a week ago, I fell asleep with it on, or maybe it slipped off when I was washing my face or when I was watching National Geographic, or when I was scratching my neck, or when I was on the front porch smoking, or when I was not paying attention, see I don't know. All I am certain of, is that I fingered the small pendant when I arrived at my mother's home, and I was tired from being at the hospital all day long and the day before that. My only consolation is that my mother's home swallowed my necklace and it's not in some alley or down a city drain. The house took it's chance when I was not looking, taking in a piece of what used to be, a moment years ago when a young woman placed a gift

the opulance of any moon has crossed my path with the colour of every childhood knife stuck in my back I remember it with love it matters not what hatred started it's about me in the silver midnight recalling ~~~~~~~~

i'm lucky i'm aware nothing begins with me or ends not my favorite avocado meat spinning, shiny bone fresh out of it's home (am i this out of control?) not you never starting to look like the always with little dangling regrets, always has my pain inside it it's always, most beautiful and dangerous most truthful mostly because always is past apology buried with the nothing i have always been nothing has a blur behind it i never ignore the white streak following my heart where the truth likes to sleep.... at least that's what i wish

today **** only four stars out of five that's just because the sun seemed to spit at me it's march for goodness sakes, not july by the way, I imagine bugs must have taken hold of my stomach and brain mainly because I am itchy, nervous, quicker than usual they must be pulling me around with their 6 legs, 6 legs plus mine, that's greased lightning also, I might have been a killer in my past life, and not a pampered queen like I thought, this occurred to me as I was forced to put the kitchen knife down instead of bringing it into the office. i'm so cool ****

estoy loca in la manana en la noche azul con mis lagrimas mis deseos tirados a mis pies me arrastras tus ojos aguados la mano extendio yo le puedo oir mi caveza es suya somos el mismo I am crazy in the morning in the night blue with my tears my desires thrown about my feet you are dragging me with your eyes watered your hand outstretched I can hear you my head is yours we are the same

It seems I get to keep my mother. For now, but that's how it is for all of us, for now. That is the only promise the universe can keep. Things must change, change is loss, but sometimes, loss pivets on a high heel, and winks. I watched 5 nurses blow needles in my mother's arm - I watched her cry until her tears and mouth were in slow motion. I held her papery hand in my own, smoothing back her hair and watching as the steel and cream walls of the hospital began to twist. The last nurse to finally succeed was hovering above her when I noticed Casablanca was on. I looked at her and said, "I've never seen this movie before". And in her weakened words she said, "I have, seven times." And seven my friends, is the number of divinity and hope. side note: Ingrid Bergman is Isabella Rossellini's mother, she passed away when Isabella was 29 years old.

ok, Saturday was the day of my sister's bachelorette, this is the day I was struck at a discount store on the left side of my head, suddenly a stabbing pain nearly brought me to my knees, however, in one second I thought, if I allow myself to fully hit the floor, one of the shoppers will totally steel my purse, in this purse is cash meant for my sister, in this shopping cart, at least 45 minutes of carefully chosen merchandise, the store will put all this away, and I'll be on the floor, sprawled with my shirt over my head, no purse, precious shopping down the tubes, so I held tight to the cart handle, I quickly recovered, just enough to get to the register and out to my car, squinting the pain, trying to coax it out of my temple to the back of my head so I could at least drive home and complain and cry in my husband's arms. later, I notice that I have a waterfall deep inside, I thought at first it was euphoria, but it was quickly followed by a sick wave of nausea, I then re

Perpetual light never mixes to serve a rainbow worth real sadness. Sadness has a light of it's own, buried within the marble of a thunderbolt. A statement I believe today for various reasons, one being the loss of control and tightness in my chest from knowing the earth spins beneath me whether I'm still or on my way to save her.

I receive each droplet. I know that I am in a spot I wish to leave, but my feet got stuck. God, will you assist me in that hole, look in on me from time to time as your lesser than, as your grown child? I know all this was before me, before me. Destiny being comfort, but so hard to eat. Heartache being it's lovely self, there to unravel and accept. I also know my mother is slipping away, and this causes me to bend in half and lapse into the mercy of that circumstance. And I know I have a way of getting back up. Because there is much to be done. terrible clouds await. I love that I'm alive to greet them.

I always knew you would kill me holding your tremble and your water with my hands they used to be your hands, your child they used to be sweet bread and 2nd grade did you ever take notice at the old woman I was becoming did you never see the dirt under my fingernails - dug deep into the earth to find answers you held back I always knew you would kill me because I kept looking into you tilting my head into space alone with you - but you never looked back I'm still digging this time with fists aged - wicked these are my hands now.

my whole and all and entire my worry my insides roped off theater style I am moving towards the end with you this is where I will wave good-bye to your precious face remembering every ounce you've ever dropped into my mouth like the winged female bird you are to your core even if it went insane that stretched linen you spread across my beak I'll remember everytime you clapped when I danced I only ever did that to make you laugh I promise eternal. that means: I will miss you, not like missing goes but void of you - honor in the most high

thoughts that weave themselves around me, making me spider food, or maybe just plain crazy. but anyway.... 1. hating Sundays has become passe 2. sugar helps when you are the mean type 3. sometimes Darth Vader sits outside my window 4. when nobody is watching, I break dance poorly 5. I watch Pulp Fiction much too frequently 6. I do not make plans on a regular basis 7. I love my mom. I prefer to make lists in increments of 7, it just feels right.

office: The traffic whips around her as she contemplates the swirl of cream in her coffee. People here pick their noses and proceed to touch others and their belongings. Through the door, down the hall, her socks fall around her ankles. Hi, she says to the woman with all the kids. She reaches for the warm chocolate down the front of her trousers, and knows this will all be over in just eight hours. At lunchtime she'll go to the park, she'll sit under the tree that ends in pitchfork and frayed nerves. And like a good, big girl, not sit on anything very dirty. She'll come back through the doors, pull her hat off, and sniff the air smell out of her hair. But what follows her? What is biting at her ankles? Buy better socks honey. tiles: A trip to the restroom turns into a shouting match between the air dryer option or paper towels. There's no way she's putting her hands under that dryer. By the time her fingers dry, it will be way past five and maybe the front door w

pie. skinny waitress filthy children adults that smoke teenagers who will only eat fries and the other women - staring out the greasy window with one glass tear that will never roll down. oh, and pie.

funny the ground is always cinnamon maybe the reason I look down is so that I may scrape it with my eyes into fine powder I choose to let escape into the dizzy south wind who will excavate this spicy trail? the vapor of female hands twisting in the moist turquoise my version of territory markings ever stop to think, perhaps I'd rather just not look up only to see the pain in every face void of the fragrant, soft earth

My aunt has been blind since birth. She's been known to cut the rain right out of the sky with a knife, so don't tell me you can't just stop crying. Just stop. *LIFE* the velvet hand of it, reaching up your dress for the silk and grass you are what you've become through the years: of mascara of hair of underwire the knuckles you have created to hold back so that your head is above water and feet firmly planted they knew to raise us this way with vined morning glories beaded up our spines to make our jobs look easy and prettier- but we know that we are in gardens - weeded high, hard to overcome our backs against trees old with gossip rough and dark and our knees, red from kneeling hearts, strong with yesterday hands, ready for healing.

the bridge of her nose is slick ivory and a stop sign for her glasses and eyes, marble and quick. arms raise to begin her story. hands motion like opening a creeky door into Narnia. Inside her unfolds the woman of her flame, red hair and a past life locked beneath her alabaster breast, beating, like ancient pearls.

I imagine she sits on her legs on her hardwood floor first comtemplating the room, then her pen and paper, then the freedom as she rips her way through every word until it is sand the sequence of movements after her fingers find ink, linking letter to letter about what happened last year or this morning at her stove or on her sidewalk who could ever know her or the secret that perfumes each wink and step. and of course, I had to ask. why she tears and destroys what she writes and scribbles, and creates? to which she replied sweetly, "because it's mine", with her small hand over her heart. oh, I think she is moonlight for having said that.

three homeless men gathered in the park with their plastic bags and collections of food scraps- of random cloth because it's january for goodness sakes I didn't feel the need to walk over with my money or walk in another direction, so I just waved hello. and smiled. When was the last time these guys had a woman say hello? I mean really.