Old poetry

wrote this in the summer of 2014.

It’s still “that season”.   My five-year.


crazy was a place I went to,

like the grocery store,
or Thailand.

And, once I knew where it was,
could pick it out on a map,
knew which subway tracks ran there,

I had to believe I could avoid it.

I keep my brain on the straight and narrow.

I walk slowly around corners,
as if one day I’ll turn left and

There crazy will be..

The neon grimace of OPEN.

Come. On. In.


Oh! in other news…   In three days I’ll go to India. yusss..  Apparently I’ll be performing bollywood stuff (not just me, hah) for our friends wedding. wheeeeeee..


Oh whoops it’s my five year crazi-versary!  Easy to remember because it happened the day before thanksgiving.  In honor of that here’s a poem about the time my brain got in a fight with my religion.  Or my sanctimonious self-righteousness..


I was baptized in a mental hospital. So messed up on anti-psychotics I couldn’t even figure out how to work the shower. When love-worship kills your dogma, the exit signs still red, some doors locked, but

a widening crack in the one that has been closed since birth, evidenced by birds flying in whose proper names I have never encountered …

Shower, the ice of realization. I am alive, I am alive. Surprisingly, in spite of, because of.

I lost my teeth that month. Teeth and other weaponry. Gone in a flurry of public disgrace, extracted the old-fashioned way, sharp rocks plus mouth.
they do the job, although
unpleasant to onlookers.

That red, made to be the color for severe warnings: If You Keep Going This Way
You Cannot Turn Back.

I haven’t. And I Won’t.

Where I wanna Be

I should write more.  I am fundamentally lazy when it comes to writing.  Writing will hit me across the head when it wants. I’m not about to go looking for that assault.  I should.  Would be good for me.  Mayhap.


inspiration strikes like lightning.
that blue-moon, once-in-a-never,
the demons I lack the wherewithal to conjure on purpose.

I treat pen-ink like blood, that kind of surprise, like
here-let-me-deal-with this – the ache of a messy spill, the
brain to page sop-up.

So- Why the Lack of Thunder, Etc.?

Balance is the opposite of a catalyst – no mania, no abyss,
(but my body is grateful. No non-stop pacing, head clear, heels immaculate) my body is
grateful, and I don’t have to buy pens any more.

There is a flame that only sparks when something devours something else.
I’ve lost my teeth sharpener, the nightmare that fed violence through my left ear.
My larder is devoid of that storm.


I still feel like a jerk for only praying
during turbulence…airplanes shaking me
back to the fear-   but maybe God feels
bad for playing would-you-rather with my
soul – My mental stability didn’t need that,
had to do gymnastics with my neurons-
pole-vaulting over my concept of an
afterlife.   Jesus is not my get-out-of-hell free card.
I refuse to wait until death for utopia.

We build it here, now.

View from the Island of the Liberals

Minneapolis. This protest was the happiest I’ve felt since the election.    I was driving home, got stuck behind the wave of protesters, parked my car at Taco Bell and went with them.

Screaming my face off, Refugees are Welcome Here, Muslims Live Matter, etc…  Elderly Somali women dancing and clapping as we walked through town.    Felt good.

Been thinking about love.

Politics is messy business. Trying to forget it.  Difficult with our Dear Leader hiring freakin’ white supremacists to assist him.

Love is always relevant.







Well I finally managed to cry it out.  There’s a license for racism now.  And various other shitty behaviors.

Here’s my prediction:

In four years:  there will not be a wall on the Mexican border.  Abortion will not be illegal.

The latter which means evangelicals are gonna have to admit they voted him in for nothing.

We now have definitive proof that racism, homophobia, sexism, etc are still problems in this country (wish we had proof of that without a president who also won’t do anything about them except probably make them worse..)

This is from a facebook post that got deleted (it was a repost, but this was my own commentary). Unfortunately the fun argument I had with someone who insinuated I couldn’t pronounce the word “patronizing” is also gone.
You wanna criticize me for dating a non-Christian, you wanna tell me that being Christian makes you a better person….Look at that huge nasty evangelical block, 4 in 5 white evangelicals voted Trump. You’ll know them by their fruits. You could have voted for anyone else. And its not all about hating Hillary, you had so many prominent evangelical leaders (James Dobson!) actively praising Trump. guess I do still believe in Hell. It’s right here.
It’s one thing to hate Clinton so much that you can’t vote for her. The overwhelming Evangelical support of Trump was only partially that. A lot of it was pretending sexual assault and racism don’t matter when selecting our figurehead.  
To my family members, and to the tiny group of evangelicals that didn’t vote for him, I commend you for going against the tribe on this.

Here’s a video to make you feel better.