soon someone will recommend eating the poor!~

why obama i do not understand
were you eating horse meat in asia
when you signed.

did it go something like this

President"  what is this i am eating?
Horse meat
oh really, i gotta get me some, is it legal back home dear boy"

idiot staff"no mr president but  you have a bill on your desk waiting to be signed"

President"oh sign it  dear fellow sign it wait till the boys get a taste of this"

President"what i signed the bill, so were is my horse meat???

Idiot staff "well mr president we are americans
we do not eat horse meat"

President"well why did we sign the bill? "sir you signed the bill, well what for?"
"answer me boy,

idiot staff  well mr president i thought you where doing it for votes from the cowboys"

President"oh man
i think we will loose some of my guaranteed votes, what am i to do?"

Idiot staff mr president just say you did it for jobs"

President" brilliant! now is there anyway we can sneak in some of that stallion"

oh and dear PETA wtf?


the title of this post was inspired by  a modest proposal essay,  written in 1729 

the window pane

she took the rag from it's hook  and walked towards the window she began to clean, the rag against the glass in circling motion. her hand slowed down and came to a stop. she stared at the window not through it as she often does,  but at it. there she saw imprints of finger tips, were they hers she wondered or his. she dropped the rag and opened up her hand and slowly brought it to the glass,  still warm from the afternoon sun she pressed her hand against it. they were not hers, at least she did not think so. she touched every tip with her own, lingered over them she swore it was like he was here but he was not, long ago gone. she picked up her rag once again but as she reached for the window she knew that she could not erase those just yet.   even  if they were hers both reminded her of the us that once existed. she walked away putting the rag back on the hook, turned her head once more towards the window the memories flooded in just like the sunlight had done moments before.

Mr Robert Oliver

I am writing to ask you to stop studying me if that is what you are doing.

you see there is nothing to learn i assure you. i am quiet content as i am and i have a few  pleasures in life and even if they might seem small to most, sitting at a cafe anonymously sipping what i hope is a good coffee while reading or perusing the net is one of them. I have spent much time on wasted distractions in fact if my life was a map all the blue on such map would equal the time that has been wasted on such things. i know now that i have lived the largest part of my life al ready, no i am not dying of some disease to my knowledge nor have i seen my future that has me  getting hit my bus but i see things realistically and the largest time has passed.  Just for the record the coffee here is bad.  were was i?  oh yes, to make it clear i have no time devoted to what ever you are offering, again none what so ever. if you are wondering, yes i am in love with you,  perhaps it is the drops of paint on your shoes or the fact that you are covered in textures  like corduroy and wool. do not get to excited on my way here i fell in love with a tree that's bark was so grey i found myself touching it, then as i parked the car i heard a woodpecker and confessed that i was in love with it too, oh and this song well yes i seem to  love that too.. so you see i am  fickle might i remind you of the blues on my map.  good day.

elections are like auctions we are all invited to attend
but the winner is always the one with the most money

liev

liev i failed you, i failed  you thinking i was doing the opposite. i am truly sorry.
my heart aches, like it deserves too.

you can not

you tried to put your arms around my neck
then you opened me up and took my heart out with your bare hands
then you started building a cage of metal and high tensile wire
you were trying to do  it again, have my soul locked up.

well you can't take her from me, or anyone or anything
so what, i went away, i smiled and laughed, dreamt and lived out loud.

but she is here and your hands are nowhere near me
and i will not imprison myself again.

planet earth

i don't think the aliens want to come here anymore

the kitchen door

the whisper     you should close the door
me                   i do not want to
the whisper     they will be all right
me                  what if they
the whisper      they will be all right
me                  i can't
the whisper     you must learn too
me                    must i
the whisper     you must believe they will take care of themselves
me                   i can't take the chance, i promised
the whisper     your health
me                   is fine, they give me life
the whisper    they take from it too
me                  not now, not yet someday, maybe
the whisper    you must learn, have faith
me                   hahaha faith, i trust them and me and nothing else.

yes

you should not be allowed to love

taste water when you are hot

you should not be allowed to dance

in your living room, a wedding or block party

you should not be allowed to speak through facebook

a blog or out loud

you should not be allowed to look out this window

at this view or straight into my eyes.

you should not be allowed to breath

stop.

why

because

what

just

let it be.

no.

yes.

yes

no

never

ever

maybe yes.

take my hand

no

yes

never

come here

no 

yes

hem of her pants

the hem of her pants soaked up all the rain
his body, his skin held the warmth of the sun
he took her hand
the pants fell to the floor.

no longer

sometimes i wake up thinking you have stopped loving me. every time i actually get to close my eyes and sleep, you take another ones shape, name you love me for a minute just enough to remind me, then you take it away. it is always done with such cruelty.  love has come to an end greets me like the morning birds and the stretching dogs. i know longer love you whispered in my ear now again, often.

not a mother

i am sitting, i feel as if my heart is the wind and any minute it will blow. i am full of anxiety perhaps the three hours at the dealership with bad news is making me so, perhaps my period is coming i am almost forty why cant i remember when it is coming, why does it still come i am not a mother and will not be. motherhood you are slapping me in the face, these days over and over pretty little pictures of swollen bellies, tiny hands and big beautiful eyes. i have reached a new place i can feel it. i am  not going to have a child, how many times have i wrote this here. now it is this whimpering sound that never stops it comes from heart, my soul .the tiny birds in the nest right by my door, the mother does such a wonderful job, but she taunts me too, sasha and claude sitting on there eggs, giving up fresh air, food and water to care for their babies tucked away in shells, they taunt me.

i am breaking, breaking , breaking my body looks like it has bared children ten times over but not a one, not a one, this is my fate, punishment, doom.

the want

i am sitting in the dark, except for the fire flies that are on the other side of the window panes
the wind is stirring the trees and the leaves can no longer remain silent
far behind the hills the thunder begins its journey, will it come to me i am beginning to wonder

it is instantly quiet, i know this moment i have felt it before, soon the clouds will open
up and everything will feel the rain fall but i for i am  sheltered by the wooden beams from the old apple barn but the sound will stir in me the want to write poetry, the want to play, to run, to feel, the want, the want, the want... roaring now it falls.

sleep

it looks like you are sleeping with your eyes opened he said
pardon, no but perhaps it must look like that she said
oh i did not mean it in a bad way, what i meant is you look at peace he said
peace, i am afraid you might be judging a book by its cover, she said
i have upset you i can tell he said
how can you tell she said
he quiet now
she staring at the sea that is not there
i think i have approached you all wrong, you looked like peace to me, ones company i suddenly crave he said
you are very kind, you will not find what you are looking for in me, for i myself have been looking for it, it is no where in me, not even the tiniest speck she said
your very kind but one more word and tears will fall but they will not belong to anything you said..she said.

pieces

today you have broken my heart in a million pieces

something that will hurt us for the rest of our lives.

home in me

the story is writing itself, with every movement that takes place
when the horse gallops or  a wing gently waves, when the grass sways from
the travelling wind or when the hem of my skirt gets shortened.

i am at home here more than any where before. i am shedding.
why is it one always tells another when the other moves away
you can re invent yourself for i belive it is the opposite it is when
what has already been invented finally appears, it is where one goes
 to finally come home.

un found

sometimes you watch a film that is made to break your heart and it does. but you still seek such films, somehow they leave you feeling unfound, discovered but not claimed. then there is the music that repeats itself and you do not have the heart to turn it off for it is hauntingly beautiful and through it you feel as if you still have a chance

got it.

it would be very hard to put into words the last few month and more so what i feel on this very day.
i feel as if i am yelling but the noise does not escape my lips.
i understand, no biological kids ever. i got it.
that i have also encountered people with fake blood in their veins and those people will never be genuine, i got it.
that i am not as strong as i hoped i was, i got it.
that coping skills are none existent, i got it.
that i leave a lot to the last moment, i got it.

that this too shall pass, i do believe i get it.

tomorrow

tomorrow, is big. real big.
today was good, real good.( minus the whole coughing, sneezing, fever thing)
tomorrow is big.
the biggest.
tomorrow might be good, no great.
tomorrow might be bad, real sad.
tomorrow is big.
real big.
big is what tomorrow is.

goodbye and hello

i wanted to write a post about what last year meant for me but it find the task challenging, daunting, overwhelming. i know the happy things with such clarity but everything else is a mix of complicated feelings, you see i spent most of last year treading water, holding my breath whether it was fearing that the animals would get sick or that my marriage would end. I lost many things last year once again but i also lost thing things i need too.

all i know is this year has to be bigger because i will work to make it that way. i do not want to be bigger  though:) i spoke of wanting to be a mama and maybe that will come true but first i have to understand what kind of wife i am and what kind of husband he is and if he still loves me, it easy to say i love you once you said a million times what is hard d to say is i no longer do but this hoping i will hear it a million times more before my heart stops beating. so now i take a deep breath and start to formulate a plan, i will begin to sculpt my mind and body take deep breaths, rest my back against something and live a good life.

books

today the air is so cold but i do not mind it. the sun is beautifully shining. everyday my love for music grows. today i had this happy feeling i can not explain it but i have been happy. even gutsy which usually back fires for me, it did not this time. i felt justified and sure of who  i am. the ironic thing is when i feel happy, i can also feel quizzie but that just lets me know something good happened.

today at the library i saw a man drowning in books i thought to myself how lucky is he.

you handle it badly

driving on a dirt road to hear me crack

underneath a charcoal sky i grip the steering wheel with my bare hands, sometimes i have gloves on but not tonight. the flickering lights, i leave those behind and feel the tires hit the dirt road, yes i go down the the narrow dirt road with it's dangerous curves i like it. mozart, toby or porteus head blaring while i take those curves flanked by giant trees like it is my only vice, i am heading towards you. you will have your hands on my neck, then my lower back and waist, your going to heal remember,  you say. driving i stop at the cafe order my coffee it is quiet at this time, the cafe unrecognizable at this time, i like it this way. back in my car now i have stopped the music,  listening to npr now, they teach me things, they open my eyes. I park my car now in front of me it feels like a paris window and door covered with ivy i think to myself should i open another store, no. I go in now there you are your hands holding a pen soon they will be holding me and i will not like it as much as you like, your the one that gets paid not me, you pull me near then crack. i hate the crack. i hate all of it well maybe not the heated blanket you lay on top of me and the relaxing sounds coming out of the speakers.

i am back in the car now, i am freezing, i mean my teeth are chattering how in ten minutes did i leave new england  for  yukon. i take a sip, adjust the radio, drive thinking how i wish all of it was longer. my tires hit the dirt road again my mind hits the clouds and i go for it as if it is my last ride i drive fast on this dirt road, the one they warned me about, i am always getting warned about something.

crash

you words crashed into me as i was skipping like a school girl
the sun was out did you not see it. i halted, stopped froze. you wanted words, reactions right there and then but all i could think about is the door handle and if i would have the courage to open.
how i wished for silence,  for superman to turn back this moment in time but i swallowed what else was i to do.

really?

hell in a handbag!

a barber

as we sat there pencils in hand

i turned to him and said do you want to be a fireman

no he replied

maybe a fisherman i said

no

what about a barber

to hairy he said

it was good to laugh like that.

it's in the air

when a faint whisper of what i want leaves my lips
i know, with enough time it will come.

tip toes

i found myself on the tip of my toes my arms extended around you, your shoulders happiness, your hands witness to  my existence my movement subtle as it may have seemed had split the mountain of what was then and what is now. my lips a pen that told a story that till that very moment was lost.

.

.

dear tea party please explain

how you plan on cutting billions wait and billions of dollars
just tell us how we will listen, make it specific
HAVE A PLAN DO SHARE IT
YOU want the job show me your plan, your resume, your successes just don't take me to your leader
she is a babbling idiot!

Yeah I thought so!

wood

UMMMMM let see

SO you wanna burn the Koran UMMMM!
let see if someone who did not look like you, or talk like you
decided to burn say a bible no let's make it a truck load would those
people be called terrorist, specially if they decided to say video it as well?

so i am guessing that once you finish burning the Koran and you find yourself in the bathroom
washing all the ashes from you face and you look in the mirror you will do the right thing
and call the police, fbi, cia on the person staring back at you,

you know because your a preacher and all!

ps- media definitely fuelling this fire!

wednesday air

the clouds are that blue gray i love so much. they are moving like floating leaves on a still lake. i am sitting by the table on the porch, with my coffee and toast, honey not jam this morning. the dogs are nestled in the grass, grace would like to be at my feet in case crumbs should make it to the floor and sophie as she often does is staring up past the trees to the sky.

there has been no sleep for a eight days now, not even the two that usually come to me in the early morning. there is a lot to blame, but now i believe the suspect to be my mattress. i would happily lie on a hammock if i only had one. the bush i disliked is almost gone thanks to oar ant tony the goats, some how they are leaving my flower beds alone i am glad because i love how they have come out. the leaves on the trees along with the wind make a noise almost like rain or a tap being turned on. I love how it the wind brushes up on my skin and how wearing jeans and a cardigan is no longer ridiculous for the weather.

i can still taste the honey on my lips along time after my toast is finished and to think that the honey came from a bee that was buzzing around here is sweeter than you think!

and now i must take out a pen and write thank you notes for the shelter.

what is it

what is it he said to me
i do not know
as i thought to myself if i only knew
what is it
i have no idea
i guess no one is whistling anymore
or dancing

what is it
nothing
well
nothing i can put into words
i am not good with words
or house work
or love making

the last day of august

i have just let tolstoy out of his paddock, he is free to roam where ever he chooses on the farm, i am nervous. i have for the very first time this summer put on a strapless dress and i am okay about it, even though my arms are redicously large i still manage to feel feminine. i have filled a glass with ice, ginger ale and orange juice and pulled a new book from my shelves to read : the grapes of wrath" by steinbeck. Moments before all this i walked to the pond to check on the ducks and found five huge turkey vultures resting, i clapped my hands and they flew away both magnificent and frightening all at once. the birds they have not stopped singing and someone must have told the cardinals of my love for red for i have counted at least a dozen. I once did a design for a flower show of a flock of red cardinals flying over head as my way of saying this end of the world as we know it, i hope this not the case today. i have wanted september to come, yet i think it more the coolness of the fall that i am waiting for. but for today i will remain in the moment and let the moisture of the humid air rest on my bare arms as i turn the page...

bright star

it is as if the rain knew tears would come
the drops pour unto the pastures as if they were desperate to hide
to seep beneath it all
my heart i fear will remain permantely pinched
no doubt that something from my conscious mind will undo it
but only for a while
my breath now cut off sends the air to my head
that is now pounding along side my undone heart
i lay myself under a cover made of feathers
and wish my sleep heavy.

n

*what i felt after bright star

let go

holding on. that is what i do.
i hold on to my loft because, well i do not know why
i hold on to my book because i do not want it to end
i hold on to king henry the eighth
i hold on to a handkerchief
i hold on to a broken shoe
i hold on and i know longer want too
but i do

or

today you held my hand on several occasions you knew
i need you to know

cheese cloth

i feel

a nap

perhaps it was the smell of the pine needles that lifted my spirits high. reading my book each page was so heavy in thought but
then in wolfboro the best nap i have ever had took place. i dreamt of my horse tolstoy, dreamt
of love, most of all i slept and when i woke the mix of pine needles and you
there awakened every thing that had been sleeping.

aware

i am not sure why it is done. i just do it. regret of course
followed by anger. than i learn who i am and i except.

but i do not like her. she is not in control even though
you think so. we are not. i am not. i am just foolish stuck between
naive and a dreamer.

ache

it was just like that....and it ached.

today i asked a big question the one that keeps me up at night

no answer, just a lump in my throat, butterflies in my belly
fear no i think mostly fear...

wish me well

wish me well for now
i asked in a slow whisper to the nights air
for now will you wish me well
i said as my fingers touched the drops of rain
for now will you wish me well
as my shoes hit the cobblestones in the alley way
i know where my home is and
i will be coming home soon
my love

my outside in

it is deep forests, quiet rivers. it is the birds that sing. the dew that still sits on leaves from this morning rains. it is the way they run up the hill and how i love kissing their cheeks. it is the mix of the early evenings breeze and shubert. they way the sun begins to set it's rays hitting everything just the right way. it is the me in all these things that i want to confide in. no one else. with exception perhaps of the moon, ....

sore feet & blueberries

me on the front porch. sore feet. the breeze keeps me safe from the sun.
toast with marmalade, blueberries and espresso. a book, finally a good book to read.
can i do it, be still enough to relax. for nothing is without discomfort, guilt. i do wish for a cold wet passing rain.
i would stand underneath it. erase, wash away. soak. the breeze did i mention it, it is lovely and not quiet.

bird

move along dear friend. push, pull but do not tug.
i shall become a bird, you will find me by your window.
i will fly when you come near but sing when you are calm.
are you calm, are you still.

whistling

there is something about whistling that speaks to me. i can not whistle and even when i say
i can what i really am saying is i inhale and make a funny sound. When i hear you whistle, for just a split of a second i freeze, nervous stillness but then i relax and listen and even ask for more. more whistling please that is what i need more whistling, more of you whisling.

mirror and memories

the morning came and i drove through thick fog then a clearing. there comes a time in the spring when the color of the buds on the tree resembles the fall. a time when the past is mirrored in the present. my mind traveled back as well
clouds moved fast- i was moving fast in and out of memories like tip toes to water.

eyes at night.

my eyes grow heavy yet it is barely night. tears have not come as i thought they might.
life has changed many times over, sharp egdes and hard turns. mixed emotion have me confused
i wonder if i am swiming or drowning. sounds come out but words are not understood. my eyes grow
heavy, heavy and now i say goodnight.

the last station

last evening i went to the cinema with k. and a friend. we went to see the last station a story of Tolstoy's last days. as we sat in the theater and the screen turned dark the words of tolstoy emerged, i had to hold back my tears not to frighten the people around me for the movie had barely begun. i have been in love with tolstoy forever now, whether it has been something that he has written or what was written about him. i understand the struggle within him, yet i am unable to use my own words to explain how much he moves me.

ten minutes into the movie a young man who has been hired to be his secretary sits on the couch that tolsoy was born on and every member before and after of his family. tolstoy asks the young man about his own work, his family- when the man burst into tears overjoyed and in disbelief of tolstoy kindness towards him a "mere nobody". i knew exactly what that man was feeling for it was what i had felt a few minutes before, in awe that i was reading his words and seeing his life played out before me.