dirt verse

my mom: 1944-2006 I had to say good-bye to my Mom after years of serious illness from heart disease to cancer. I would love to commemerate her by telling of her career and other accomplishments, but now as I sit as a lost woman, I recall her smell, her hands at a serious dominos game, and the last night of her life, how hard it was to say good-bye, Mom, I miss you with my entire heart and soul, I've dreamed you twice, I keep sniffing your last blanket, I keep staring at that beautiful picture of you. I'll never forget, never. I'll love you forever and ever. I am so thankful you are no longer in pain, and I want to believe I will see you again. bye Mama.

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