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Tuesday, July 28, 2015

No more broken woman poems

I’m done with
broken woman
poems.

I’m done with
victim

I no longer
want to have to
disclose

“What happened to me”
to new lovers

I’m done with
broken

I’m done with
shame

I reject the
notion
of unwholeness.

I become
whole. I exude full. I create

the totality of
me
I am not
what happened

I am not the
little
girl

who was violated

I am not
what he did

with his sick
desires
to my little girl
body
his sick wanting hands
exploring
unwanting
flesh

I am not
the unwelcome
penetration
of my
spirit’throat, silencing
me for years

crushing my inner
being

his mistake
does not
define me.
his sickness doesnotdefineme
does not create
any part
of my reality anymore.

I am whole
I am love
I am free
I am navigator
I am lustful
I am desirous
receiver

of strong woman
and man
hands into
my spiritbeingbody

I am lover
I am goddess
I am Her.
I am
That.

Not broken woman
Not shamed little girl
Not his secret
Not mistake.


What happened when you blew smoke into my lungs

All time stopped.
All need for holding on
to control
to keep track of things,

Disappeared.

Now I was
just
body
just
human
riding waves

to pleasure
and more pleasure
You were
Just tongue
Just safe
Just mouth

You
became an
extension of me,
my orgasm
rested in
your hands

no reason to
hold back

no hold back
i don’t even know
what hold back means
anymore.

You, suddenly inside me,

The word forms
first in my head
then, quietly
makes its way out
of my
mouth,
tiny

“Wait,”

and then

“Not yet,”

and,
miraculously, you
do.
Stop. wait. patient.
Looking at me

with eyes that say,
“What do you need?”

and

“Tell me.”’

You
kindness

I, trust.

Then more
I am leading you
now

wave after wave after wave

you in mymouth
wanting
throat open

me saying
“Not now,”
you

Perfectly
okay,
with the waiting

the holding back

the delay
of your pleasure.

Next morning,
I say

“Thank you,”

when what i mean is
for listening.

"When I said wait,"

you look baffled.
say,
“Well, Yeah.”

Look perplexed
that anyone
would not-

I don’t tell you
about the
times
they did not
wait.

Not yet.

Friday, July 17, 2015

A Dream about Lizard

I was having a real hard day.
Like, real hard. 

Did a ceremony. 
In the bath, with geranium rose eo and 
salt.

Burned my palo santo stick
from Kapaa

Played my shamanic drumming 
asked spirit to show me if there was 
something blocking me
or holding me back.

First Lizard came and showed me
about my peeling away the layers

then i asked what i needed to let go of 
and Green Lizard with
his molting head, said
let go of Not Enough
of Shame
of unloveable.

Let go of 
pain. 
Let go of 

Why me?

I felt this pain deeply, 
felt it rise to the 
surface and boil up
tears poured forth
from my eyes
and sobs 
shook my body

until I pulled it out from 
my heart and said, 
"No more!" to the
shame and the hurt
and the Not Enough
and the "unloveable."

I said goodbye to the one
who is victim 

I asked Lizard to cleanse
me
and he poured water over
my head and 
he shook his rattles 
over me and let the 
rain of his music 
rain over my body
until I was cleansed, 
and he told me to let 
the drain

Then I said, 
"Is there anyone else 
you would like to 
introduce me to?"

And Lizard said yes, 
And I could see this new 
creature peeking 
from behind a 
shadow, 
or a curtain

anyway it was blocked
and so I said, "Hello, are you shy?
You can show yourself to me

It's okay now."

And all of a sudden, 
Sloth revealed himself
with a big goofy smile

and I just started rolling
with laughter. 
I don't know what was so
funny about sloth

but he was hilarious
to little me.
He was just about
the funniest thing
I'd ever done see.

And when I was done laughing
at my new friend sloth
I asked him what I 
was meant to do? Was
there some task I needed
to perform?

And he said, yes, 
a Spirit walk

And I said, is that like
a journey? 
And he said yes. 
And I said, A 

Vision Quest, perhaps?

And he said yes, 
And I laughed again. 
"You mean like, in Costa Rica?"
And he said yes.

Sunday, May 31, 2015

You don't have to be good

”You do not have to be good,
Only to let the wild animal of your body love what it loves.”  -Mary Oliver

Listen to your body,
The body knows.
The grey purple crags
In the distance
Topped by golden sun
And white cliff faces
Listen to your cries.
Sentinel holds vigil by
Your chair.
Your black furry coat
laying across your lap
And favorite grey sweater
(the one with holes in it
and the A&F logo that you
picked from the trash when
those two college boys were moving out) wraps you in a
kind of coziness that you
didn't know you were seeking.
Bob Marley sings on the radio,
”No woman, no cry.”
I always thought he meant
”I don't need no woman;
I won't cry,”
But maybe its not an independence anthem?
Maybe its a song about
Compassion?
Is he saying, ”No, woman,
Don't cry?”
Perfect orange on the table next to me from my neighbors'
tree signifying springtime in
Phoenix.

I have been called
A Phoenix by more than one
person lately,
Not insignificantly.
Not least
of whom, my Mr. B.
I still love him, you know. Will always.
My counselor Barbara says you can love someone
With all your heart and
That still doesn't mean
That you are supposed
to be
With them