Hungry/Lonely/Love/Fast

[Once upon a time I thought I would try a week long guided fast.]

Love is a mystery

no connection it seems

to what is going on around me

until I remember

Hey, they’re probably

all feeling just like me

wondering

Where is love in this process

of tepid broth

beet juice

brown rice

and nothing but 

water 

water 

water

Where is love in this journey

of looking at me

from the inside out

not running from the

uncooked emotions

bubbling to the surface

of this teapot of my inner self

Where am I?

Who am I? Who have I been

around rice, pasta, cookies

ice cream and endless arrays

of rich desserts and why?

What does love

have to do with eating and not eating?

Ahh

But I have eaten

out of loneliness

I have eaten out of spite

I have eaten inside of closets

I have hidden snacks

and opened them in the night

I have eaten for 2 or 3 all in one sitting

and I have also starved myself in punishment

for the binge

I have eaten in ways 

when I didn’t even know

that the cake, cookie or candy

was covering up 

a dirty old feeling 

like Hate. 

Eating is love

is a need

is a right

is a burden

Eating is a feeling, a thought
I buried under every

fast, hungry, unconscious bite

Eat, bite, crunch, 

swallow, 

fast, slow, awake and 

mellow.  Eat 

for nourishment

for body and soul

eat for energy to 

dance, kick, run

and play with other fellows 

Eating for love

for loss of love

not eating for love

for loss of love?

Where is love?

It remains 

a mystery

food and love 

and eating

the same

a part of the mystery

my own investigation into the

differences between

loneliness, hunger, eating, food

and loving me.

Heart in the Mountain

I came to the mountains

and I found my heart

it was sitting at the

foothills just waiting for me

when I got there

the trees called out my

name and opened

their arms to

hold the hurts, aches

and disppointments

I’d brought in my knapsack

The black birds danced a jig

while the red birds

set a table for the

feasting on colorful

stretches they knew

I would enjoy

As I set down my bags

and put the past beind me

the lake offered to hug me

as I dropped my worries

into her bosom

and I greeted my healing heart

and delighted in the

rainbow of emotions

she had been waiting

to show me

And after a good

and long visit

I thanked the mountains

for their generous hospitality

as I gave them the

happy news that

my heart and I

were going back

home together

at peace 

and in love

with 

myself.

In the Memory of...

Every car drove by
Slowly
To the last good bye
For the woman
Whose symbol of life
Would be the peach
Colored roses on
Her simple box
And wearing dresses
Of black, white, brown
And blue
The women of the clan
Cried and passed
Along their embraces
To brothers and sisters
Family and friends
Sharing memories
Of a tall elegant
Younger mother
With a fierce talent
And a sharp mind
And a cutting tongue
If you crossed
her righteous path
Invoking the wrath
Over felt breaches of
Her deeply committed
Values, beliefs and
Personally designed
convictions

At the ceremony's end
When they couldn't laugh anymore
About childhood memories
When the last photo of togetherness
Had been shot and labeled
When the last tissue
Had been soaked
With the waters of grief
Adequate for one day
Pitifully small for
A lifetime of remembrance
Their eyes were drawn
To the star-studded sky
And the spelling
In it of her
Light-filled name
And in a dreamy gaze
They journeyed home
To be tucked in bed
By a Mother's distant love
Blanketed with
Sorrow
Tears
And their rekindled
Love for each other.

Summer 1998

Blood in the Snow, a campus shooting survivor reflects

[on a bitterly cold and snowy February 14, 2008, a former graduate student of Northern Illinois University came on to the DeKalb campus armed with guns, entered a large classroom in Cole Hall and shot and killed five students and injured sixteen others. He then turned the gun on himself.]  

* * * 
Your feet crunched 
across the frozen grounds
of this alma mater
carrying cold steel 
in the pockets of an overcoat
like the metal surrounding your heart 

blood spurts of 
"anger repressed"
words to describe in neutral terms

"clinically depressed"

a mad man 'or just a "mad" young man

without a voice

I think of the seconds before
the crunch of your boots across
the cold pavement

did you sweat in anticipation
did you shed a tear in the seconds
before turning the trigger on yourself? 

Did you have a moment of indecision
vacillation
contemplation
a chat with someone
anyone
an admission 

I'm crazy with this feeling
and this is what I want to do...
and I mean it...

White skin on the white snow 
walked into a room full of the 
coats of many colors
worn in the season before spring

everyone sat waiting for the T.A.
as you walked in and lay your broken
spirit on the floor
gently or madly
closing the door
and opening the case in which
the weapon of mass destruction lay
nesting and ready for its moment 
of precision
crafted in a shop somewhere 
far away
but brought to this moment
this insane crazed moment
as you bent down 
to pick it up 
because your soul had already been 
left at home
crushed or barely surviving
on the breath of fury
which now jumped from behind
the metal door around your pumping heart
pushed the muscle in the hand
that now aimed and opened fire
once, twice, more, the 
girls and boys 
gathered 
waiting
now dropping 
like targets at a range
or birds in the sky
their shocked spirits
floating across the whiteness of the 
outside snow which they too
had walked that day as you
winter boots on the grounds 
of your alma mater
who now must embrace
all of her children in a deeply sorrowful
gesture of 
community grief
rage filled tears
and love. 

With Glassy Eyes Turned Upward

Like a smashed possum 

On the road is how I look and feel

Hair crushed to the temple

Sweating in the blood of worry 

And despair

Little possum soul

Rising from the ground

Saying looky here

How I find myself dying 

At the crossroads

Of a very short and somewhat

Stupid little life

The elm and pecans 

Didn't protect me

From the stumble and 

Moment of anguish before

The fall 

In the second of the crunch

I prayed to them 

Last night

To the tree spirits 

And the worry gods

And the  sappy happy fairies

Living in the backyard of my 

Obsessive mind 

I was playing a flute

And swimming down a chute

Facing an awesome and

Ancient god's face 

The whole time wondering

If she'd catch me

With her tongue

Wrap me in a blanket of lace

Possum soup?

Or Possum soul? 

Who cares

I feel like a smashed up possum

And a despised one at that

Caught rummaging through

Your cans and your textbooks

And your hallways and stupid 

Little minds

Little possum in your classroom

Lecturing on days of doom

And observing your own faces

That communicate daily 

The message of gloom

Little possum

Dying on a golden morning and 

Yesterday's rainy day

You have been disconnected. 

Austin, Texas, Nov. 19, 2000 

Hearts on Fire

On a cold february morn
she at the desk
deep in repentant thought
of words
for a stern judge
about a case she
didn't cite
correctly
me
in more playful
pensive meditation
about a friend's
impending death
of cancer
and of one's
called-upon time
in the order of things
life and nature
mothers and daughters
learning to heal
to mend and set stitches
on to a rope of experience
they'll remember forever
a meditation on dreams
fantasy fears
of when I will
hold my hand to my heart
knowing it's my time
and wondering now of what disease
it will be
or if instead of what disaster

Hearts on fire
because we do throb with life
lucky today
to love and be loved
to hold and even happily
complain that jumping dogs
won't leave us alone
a February morn
with the sounds of so many
birds feeding
our hungry hearts
for patience
and lightness
wisdom
and compassion
for those other hearts on fire
burning a path
to eternity's door.

2011 Spring

Prayer of the Unfaithful

I awoke
in fear
to the sound
of the rain
I saw waterfalls
in my head
I turned over
to bury my face in the pillows

the blankets burned
as did the tears
running down my face
I spoke to God’s
voice tapping at my window
and whispering through
the trees
“Are you there?” I cried
“Are you really going
to be there
for me?”
And I heard nothing
but the pounding
of this awful dread
clawing at the edges
of my bed
about to crawl in
and strip me of my
recent hopes
and pleasant dreams

The whispering
came back
in gentle stirrings
and changes
in the somber
morning light
soft rain
and birds’ breath
sounding back
“You only think
you are alone”
At which
the heaving of my
breast took a
gentle pause

When I next looked around
two little sleeping soldiers
had interrupted their dreams
they came to paw at me
and to lick my face
Was this to be my only answer?
At which thought
I could only sob more
and bury
my blanketed self
again

What a sorry sight
my sagging soul
and my haunting fears
of not finding work
and losing the precious
and comforting
love and safety
I find indoors
inside this very old house
already holding so
many memories
of family, friends,
struggle, growth and fate

By the time
I truly awoke
My cries to the divine
had become a shout
“I don’t want this change
and I am tired
of this lingering doubt of
‘What Should I Really do Next?”
So I just cried some more
until the wind stopped
and the pups begged
for my attention
and the wild birds
began to sing
in harmony
to the sonorous
wails
I’d just left behind
like a trail
on the wide
open desert
of my lacking faith

2000, Austin, TX