Remembrance of a not so easy death

Fuck Eternity.
I watched a film about cancer and death
and one scholarly woman's dying breath
and in the beginning and the end 
there was no fear no worry to be seen
she was steely and smart
and in her teaching had a cold heart
but who wants to be remembered for 
being stern? 
Who wants to be dying alone with no one to hold
what's left of me in a final urn?
I want to live goddamit
and I will not if I get the goddamn cancer
and choose to die before my time 
filling my veins with poisoned experiments
that waste my skin, my cells 
my lungs and my heart
nothing but theories for diagnosis
and a celebrated research lab's experiment 
fuck it all from finish to start

That movie that story 
that doctor that nurse
that researcher 
goddamn them
and I say fuck to what is 
offered too often these days
for eliminating a cell that is reproducing
wildly and does not hurt
only grows more and beneath one's heart
may be hiding in the corners 
of a torn shirt

Oh goddammit
I more than hated the message 
of that story 

The treatment for cancer is not only
lunacy in white 
but also ceremoniously gory
research researcch research
and notes
and doctors who pace and ponder
down hallways in starched white coats
and perfectly painted walls
funded by perfectly profitable companies

Cancer
the tale of patients and patience
only to be told
that when it comes to another unknown cancer
there is nothing to contain it
and nowhere for one's spirit to go 
except to unfold into mystery
and chills and fire
and dying breath
and kisses of pain
and shit in the end
and all fluids gone
and poisoned like a dying polluted river
with treatments and false shamans
and rituals and indifference 
to those yearning for love
and in the last moments
for a caring mother's hug
as the patient says goodbye 
to all things on this earth that 
she loved so much
whether the song of a bird
the scent of a flower
the aroma of a well prepared soup
the vastness of an empty blue sky
above a tall man made taller
as he stands over the hospital bed
as she remembers the look in the eyes of one student
she loved so well 
and he in return
and that moment of brilliance 
in a connection of words and god's
grace in the ability to share
not just from mind to mind
but heart to heart
with warmth of hand
as she says
nothing more 
closing her eyes 
and forever parts. 

Oak Park, IL 
April 20, 2002

The Poet

She sat on the couch
and stared at the red painted toenails
and imagined her still
there in the body
as if alive and breathing
at the mother's feet
moments after her last breath
a Buddha in disguise

She pondered further
the silliness of wishing
away anything that
should cause a disturbance
in the force of life. 

Lancaster Calif, April 1998

Meditation Mix

Aroma of dried flowers
mixed in with scent 
from vanilla candle
mixed in with 
a jumble of emotion
mixed in with a 
longing
for love
mixed in with the 
notes from an oboe
and a flute
mixed in with streaming
warm tears
down my face 
for a mix with rumbles from stomach
as I sit on this 
transcendentalist's pillow 
propped up for the moment
and mixed in with all the 
strewn objects in this 
not so quiet room
as if tossed about
by a giant god 
playing with my life. 

Oak Park, IL 
April 3, 2002 

Incurable

The death sentence came down
on the same day I lost patience
with my friend's workplace 
political campaign
I cried the tears for my little friend
whose cancerous body
will burn upon her death
and I also cried from tears of frustration
because not enough love
in this world could mend 
my two friends' bitter fights with each other
and I wondered what role I am supposed
to play in this all 
as I turned the pages of the book 
and went back to work
full of sorrow
yet resolved to do my best
in releasing my dying friend
and furry little kitty
and letting go as well 
of the need to fix two people 
caught up in an
incurable political 
and yet quite personal 
conflict.

Chicago, April 10, 2000

White Boxing Gloves

I have watched that couple dancing 
in the ballroom of my mind
since January
It is now April
and I am cold
and feeling old
and tired of battles with no end

I wish I could kiss the cheek of 
each young colleague  
holding on too tight 
in the academic's dance of anger 
and transmit with that brush of lips
to sweet flesh burning with rage
the patience and compassion
I have for each of them
Their souls deep inside
surely must yearn for this

But NO, the fires of betrayal
and flaming towers of deceit
have come crashing upon their
stubborn heads
and no one rests at all when dreams 
of vicious gossip are what we 
take to bed.

The clock chimes 
it's a new part of the day
I want to put these fiery memories
and the hundreds of words in screaming 
e-mails of argumentation
into a cool metal box
stuff it in a drawer and head
for that thousand plus mile journey home

My tired body
and my exhausted soul know quite 
well that the wisdom of the old is built upon 
the crumbling waves of 
youth who run to us 
for succor and support

But here 
discouraged by my 
unwillingness to take sides
they avoid taking the different road
and careen backwards into 
an enduring petty war
on the institutional dance floor 
competing for the prize of 
most stubborn
unprofessional and uncouth. 

Presidential Pancakes

The men in suits 
on this newest rat race
for President
are being covered nonstop 
by corporate media
the same people 
who now want to shut down
the discourse of freedom on
the internet
yes they do
they pay lobbyists 
no wonder I can't stand
the newest social media networks
it's either all about
marketing or being marketed
You begin to get cynical at my age
and focus instead on how
good the pancakes 
with butter were this morning. 

February 2012

In the Pit

Bitterness drenched my pajama clad body
through the night
No, it ran through
my veins and oozed from my pores
as I slept
coursing up and down 
the length of my restless leg syndrome
concocting nightmares for my REM hours of
tortured sleep
where I confronted a witch with a suit
and her starched black hair
a lesbian defrocked nun 
who just might be threatened by me
I'm like the hunted Dorothy
dreamily searching for a pair of 
cinnamon red shoes
the symbol of my youth
and naive enthusiasm and hope
Now I spit out the bile of reality
and taste an acid deception
from them
the hiring committee
from me
the reluctant candidate
pondering the question
where do I go from here? 

I trek a wilderness of constantly dashed hopes
seeking protection from the law's ugliest creation
its teachers and interpreter puppets and 
power hungry souls
I cannot escape the shining light of 
awareness that my past will continue to haunt me
and set traps of delusion
in the earthen floor

Oh Madre Tierra 
swallow me up 
and the feelings of this 
job hunting despair. 

Chicago, March 2000 (I didn't get the job). 

That First Love

I remember when you sat
at the desk at 5am or so
and I half asleep looked over
at the furiousness of your pace
with pen in hand
writing down every feeling thought image
desire and dream that came
rushing gushing out from the
deep waters of your soul
up to your brain heart and then
through your poet's hands
and I was awakened by that spirit
that could not be contained
that I did not appreciate
and looked upon with disdain
and now thirty years later or so
I reach out to your memory
and wonder where you are
and what happened to that brilliant
star in the sky that I knew your mind to be
and I wonder if you are even still alive
and if you even remember me
and if you ever forgave me
for joining hands with you on a path
we were destined not to complete
and for loving you ever so deeply
so richly and then so
cruelly harshly
letting you go.

February 2000
Chicago

Breakfast at the Courtyard

The timer beeped loudly
as she ran out the serving kitchen
light brown ponytail
the color of the waffles I ordered
as a dishtowel on her arm
moves
swinging and swishing
against her narrow hips
a motion of legs and arms
for a marathon runner
but here at work
only in motion alongside
thick well tread shoes
marking her even path
the wearing down of another morning
for this waitress whose smile
is just part of the task
to ensure a bit of a tip
for the thinly dimed labor
of the Missouri working class.

June 2007 on the way to Austin

Born in California

A cluster of cacti rest on
this dew laden porch
atop Oakland hills
toppling the ocean's edge

San Francisco and stories
of Grandpa's youthful
adventure to these waters
first vistas on my mind
wondering about the moment
he decided to marry
to always talk about and remember
California

words passed on to a wife
and then to a son
who one day left a Mexican village
as a young man
as other
migrants do
and in time brought the widow
and the sister who another day
met and married my father
and had me in California.

Empty Head

Empty head got out of bed
so grumpy she 
could not see
She grumbled  reaching
for support 
bumping into the cat
on the way for a pee

The anticipated interview  
canopied the bed
words tossed about
and missing the empty head
rolling about like unpolished rocks
gathered for grinding 
in a gem artist's shed

What is the purpose of my life?
said empty head
Nothing 
replied the emptiest corner
of her addled brain
Nothing is right
and Nothing is wrong 
Only nightmares
make this night so long 

Cover the dread
and snuggle in the sheets
awaken later with a normal
bedhead 
refreshed m'dear 
even if a bit unsteady 
for suiting up and hitting the streets.  

The Nuts In My Life

For I am the product of the food I eat

First peanut butter on toast
with a bit of berry jam
is yummy no one can question
when I eat you I have excellent 
digestion

Almond butter was often
a wonderful treat
until I took an allergy test
and was seriously advised 
these nuts-- do not overeat!

Brazil nuts from South America
hard and substantial
and for the feeling of a whole meal
just gobble a handful

Tan brown bumpy walnuts 

native to the Southern parts

of western California

bring back memories
of cracking them
together with holiday chestnuts
great for the omelette
a natural antihistamine
to cure a stuffy nose
Why walnuts you are so resourceful
I do say I love you so...

Ahhh the little round hazelnut
when you are mixed 
with a bit of chocolate
you turn the red strawberry
into sheer magic and merry...

And then Southern pecan
Dearest pecans 
pop pop popping as you hit the ground
and shooting roots up 
for a tree here there and everywhere
because in Austin this 
gracious tree does abound
so lovely for a pecan pie
or even for a kale garlic summer stir fry

Feeling nutty? 
feeling crazy?
if not allergic to them
gather all the nuts you can find
and just chop sprinkle crunch 
or even bake them.  

Engulfed Coast 2005

The sound of a lonely flute
waves crashing on a Southern beach
the cry of a hundred thousand souls
rising above the chaos
leaving behind
thousands more in the wails and grief
the lonely flute is the call of our
shared humanity
the cries are the gentle goodbyes
we must make
as the waves of history recede
and return with yet another example
of our grotesque indifference
our penalty for failing
to heed the lonely
call for
compassion.

Oak Park, IL September 2005

Mr. Rex's Lesson Plan

The breeze from the fan
tickles my poodle's long hair
he lays at my feet trusting

His species spelled backwards is God
whose eyes I see when he gives me that 
Old Soul's look and tells me 

"You are much too controlling my love
and I have something to teach you
about yourself and your constant hurrying

Do for one like me

lay here in communion with a hard 
wooden floor
now and then 
a short separation between me 
and Mother Earth
feel the support and the space
to breathe in and out
to have puppy dreams
and frolic through the streets
free of harness and collar
to catch a rabbit's tail
or smell a squirrel's butt

Let go of all worries
after a walk and a meal 
and some drink
be mellow
and feel
the gentle breeze 
listening to the whirr of the fan 
as it caresses my long hair 
and my black nose 
taking me to no where and no worries land
for a nap 
or deep snoring sleep."

Your Yin and My Goddamned Yang

I am still wearing our last phone call
around my neck
I wore it to the theatre tonight
it itched at my collar 
and when I smoothed my scarf 
your tense appeal to me for Reason!
stuck out like a 
forgotten sales tag
and scratched at me for attention

I pushed down the fold of my coat
hard against my chest
as if I were trying to keep 
your wrath from strangling my 
half smile as the movie played

One hour passed and I left my mind
enough to crawl into the pants of the 
lovely Cameron Diaz 
on the wide screen
with her flashing smile and blue eyes
that sadly 
and for just one second into the 
second hour reminded me of yours 
and I took her tears
and gave them to us 
to share in silence 
and apart
until we can meet again 
and remember the real reason
why our talks
turn into fights 
when we forget
that though we can't 
now be together
we really are going to be alright.

Oak Park, IL 2005 

The Fall

This 
is the void 
I think I will fall into 
the abyss of a hungry
and long second of time
the unknown 
asking if your mind 
is on the road in front of you
or if troubled waters invade
and drown out
thoughts of us
canoeing together across
the river of this time
or taking a turn into change

This 
is the canyon I cannot walk easily
looking for a guide
I face up to the sky
hear an eagle's cry
stare down at the mile long trap
feel the tug of emptiness in my bowels
the panic of uncertainty
at my throat
the wanting of your breath next to my face
the missing you is 
sharp as the edge
where I stand now
about to fall 

in love.

December 2005, Austin TX

Austin On My Mind

Austin is on my mind

in point 

that aloe vera I planted in the garden 

last week

the row of pansies and petunias 

pushing up and sprouting from 

a warming ground

Texas bluebonnets on my mind

the first I ever saw

in the haze of new romance

thinking I was fancy free

but my heart was in fact in a knot of confused 

friendship

a big hearty Texas girl

enveloping me in a hug of cheer

saying let's go for a drive m'dear 

catch the bluebonnets

bring the new puppy along

pretend you've got all the time

in the world to laugh and play 

and care not of what's left undone

at the end of the day

Austin on my mind 

specifically a triplex on Palma Plaza and Woodlawn

smiling dykey friends and so many others 

that I love

how I yearn for your voices and one of your hugs

Yes, Texas on my mind 

as I sit in fiercely cold Chicago 

facing another

day of toil 

grey wintry skies and 

maybe having to pull out the shovel. 

Oak Park, IL 2004 

Maybe

A cloudy poet's mind
caught up in the daily grind
she looks askance
neighbors walking by 
in their own trance
"I want to dance" 
she thinks 

bemused by the idea 
of judgment and remorse
she caps the pen 
with a wry smile 
observing
how the poet's mind 
can be so unkind. 

Oak Park, 2004 

RED

I wonder why I like 
the color of chili peppers red
throughout my house
The color of fire

a wake up for when I'm tired
a warm glow 
an inviting store of red memories. 

The little red wagon 
from my L.A. kiddie days
The geranium leaves I picked for
pretend house play
the plaid uniform for
Catholic school first grade
the lipstick Mommy elegantly wore
a Christmas bow on the door

Oh give me red in these Northern skies
and the image of Ricky's collar as 
she jumps for a tennis ball oh so high
Give me my lover's red hair and her lips in bed
give me fire and love and passion
in the color Red.

(Oak Park, IL 2004)

And Out Came...

Somewhere 
a while back I filed away my passion
to write poetry
I unzipped an old back pack of
self-doubt
Out came a dusty, ugly face
a screaming little monster
that sits on my left shoulder
a favorite spot as it whispers
why do it? No one will read it 
or care

OK you little rascal
that's it

get on your bike
put on your helmet
and leave

You're the same creature I used
to douse with whiskey and wine
I'd put you to sleep
as I started a paragraph and a creative line
worried that you'd wake up
any minute now
and beg to be fed.

Nighty-night Little Ugly One
Go to sleep
back to the 20th century
and leave me the fuck alone. 

Aurora, IL 8/21/2008

Autumn

Autumn

The October light
meets each car
at the four way stop
an intersection
illuminating tired
men and women
aiming the wheels
with purpose
to be on time
while little boys
and girls in formation
skip down the sidewalk
with backpacks
and a similar
determination
as glistening leaves
fall

the roar of a city truck
nearby
approaching them
with gusto
and a shovel
for fallen grace and leaves
that float by

the boys and girls
the men and women
who stop in obedience
for the rules
of the road
but not to
catch the light
of a drifting
downward bit of
summer's face.

Oak Park, IL 2006

When Tony moved out...

You left behind in this place
your gentle friendship
a sweet way of lending a hand
an open smile
to the children in us all
a model of patience
and discipline
in difficult times
and with unruly people
you left behind
in my heart a huge box of memories
of hugs shared
laughter found
for the unveiling
of my imperfections
like leaving too many
cabinet doors open
and running myself
on a treadmill
out my window
or pouring coffee
on an upside down
cup
You left
behind in this place
a treasure of memorable times
too long to list
for you have left in my heart
a space where I will hold
the thoughts of you
not just like someone who lived
here that I learned to respect,
to like and to love
but more like a good friend
and a sister whom I
will constantly miss.

December 19, 2006

Oh Dear the Fear of it All

I am like a wasteland of thought
caught in a mental knot
having a home in the South that years ago
I bought
an apartment up here in the North
where I work and travel
no
I commute during the coldest parts
of the year
so my question to you dear
Goddess
is
Why
What is my purpose in this place
as I putter like
every other rat
in the human race?
When I think about
going home I will
still spend too much time
alone
I don't cherish
Denise
her entire way of being
often annoys me
and that is a Big Problem
Because it's nothing about
Fearing Little Her
It is about Fearful
Me.
August 2004

NB - September 30, 2012
And now reading this
how I wish I could have her back
hear her tired angry, stressed, tired voice
how I wish I could hug her again
and be held.  How I miss you My Angel,
My Denise.

Coltrane and Me

When I hear Coltrane
and his saxophone playing
against the backdrop of
soft-pedaled notes
on a jazz piano
I relax, close my eyes
and then
I'm back in New York City
on Bleeker Avenue
or maybe Basil's on 7th Avenue
and I'm in a black sexy dress
smoking a thin cigar
yes, a thin cigar
and holding a fluted glass
that I tap with my fingers
long red painted nails
fizzy bubbles moving
a little back and forth
and the blues notes
of a darkened club dance
over my table
and I smile at the musicians on
my personal stage
as I shift my weight
a little bit forward
hungry to embrace
the notes of
A Love Supreme.

Te pareces a tu mamá

I look in the mirror as I put
on the color rinse to my hair
and recognize a certain look
that as I age returns you to
me in that mirror
and then haunts me as you follow
me with your judging gaze

The magic in the box will
take away the natural grey
much more than that
it shall put off and delay

the moment of my coming to terms
with the hardening fact that
outwardly I am becoming you

while with fierce intention
I place the dye on my head
and wait
and charge against my future
with the energy of my past

you know
those teen years
when I hated you were my mother
and I that was your daughter

and look here I am
becoming you
and still resisting you
with the promise on the box
that the grey will go away
but the reason for
the treatment will not.

 Austin, TX 2011