heavy

when someone close to you
dies
it becomes part of your description
she has brown hair
a nice smile
and her brother is dead

birthdays are the hardest
his last one
I didn’t know
it was the last
his voice sad on the telephone
my pledge to keep in touch
this time

we live in a world
where I can obsessively search for
intimate details of his death
available in short video
burning plane
gray matter splattered on a playground
his last words, “oh, fuck.”

notorious IT guy for the other side
the Forrest Gump of stolen elections
everything reminds me
of him
the sound of a single engine plane
sad songs on the radio
politics, Christmastime, and charismatic men

I drink Irish whiskey this time of year
but it was Scotch at his wake
four years now
four years since the last election
four years since the plane crash
a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream
murder Republican style

when someone close to you
dies
do you let it redefine you?
hello, I’m Connell
a mama, a student, an artist
let me tell you
about my dead brother

(written in 2012)

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desperation

i had a dream
which spoke it to me
dream me
said to
dream you
we did not come together out of desire
but out of desperation
i had had so so many relationships
giving myself away to everyone
you had had no relationships none
locking yourself away from everyone
both of us
desperate for love
desperate to be loved
you saw that i was desperate enough to love you
not desire
but desperation
when one of us would become desperate
to leave
the other would become desperate
to hold on
& we did this dance
we did this dance…
if only we could have stepped away
for a clear thought
to see
we would not have chosen each other
if not for desperation
there is nothing true
in desperation

my anxiety writes a poem

if my oldest son
never comes home
i will have to take his homemade ship
to the river myself
to launch it
after so many times of telling him,
“no, not today…”
i will have run out of days to spend
with him
maybe i will set it on fire
have a viking funeral
as i wish he would come home
if my second son
never comes home
i will never be able to return the movie
we are supposed to watch together
i will have to keep it
and pay the library
for it
knowing i could buy a cheaper copy
i will never let go
of the movie we were supposed to watch
as i wait for him to come home
if my daughter never comes home
i will build a shrine of
barbie dolls
and tutus
i will sit and sing to myself
surrounded by her special things
i will wish i could hear her
speak words
have a conversation with me
just once
just once
as i hope for her to come home
if my youngest son never comes home
i will die inside
knowing i wasn’t the mother to him
that he needed me to be
knowing that i failed him
from the beginning
and the only way i can save him
is to save myself
and bring him home to me

sometimes when my kids go to visit their dad, i go to a special hell reserved for moms. sometimes i breathe and relax and enjoy my alone time. other times i climb the walls and let the demons chisel at my thoughts.

i didn’t intend to be a stay-at-home mom. however, when it came time for me to go back to work after fidgit was born, i found i couldn’t do it. at first i tried taking him to work with me, which was strangely tolerated. but i realized i was doing two jobs half-assedly and decided i needed to make a choice.
i chose being a mom.
and it has been a hard road. a very hard road. my ego has suffered a lot and sometimes i find myself wondering, “what if–” about my choice to be a mom at all. and then the catholic part of me kicks in and i live in fear that i have hexed my children with such thoughts.

being a mom is so fucking complicated.

i just want my kids to come home so i don’t have time to think about it.

a shithead in sheep’s clothing

i see you
i see you now
you hide in your chameleon’s skin
you turn the tables
you play victim
you say, “i wouldn’t have done it if you–”
you say, “but look at how awful you are”
you are a master of distraction
a master of disguise
while a moth wears predator’s eyes
for protection
you are a shithead in sheep’s clothing

bear with me, y’all. i am working through some angst & frustration.
nothing to see here!
it’s all a part of the healing….

now i need to go do some art.

(the minions are out of town & i am down in the dumps)

a poem for the full moon

my anger clings
to me
so tight
i can’t breathe
i can’t breathe…
i want to shed my anger
like a skin
i don’t want it anymore
i don’t need it
anymore
i want a new
fresh
skin
to welcome the world
to paint pictures on
to tell stories with
to experience love
& wonder
& all the beautiful things
that my anger
keeps at arm’s length
in some misguided
attempt
to protect me
from life…
i want to shed my anger
like a skin
& be born again
light
free
& happy.

a human connection

oftentimes i have hope
other times i don’t
belief that there is a person out there
willing to be there for me
willing to care about me
willing to help me up
when i fall down…

i so often fall down…

sometimes i have hope
sometimes i just want to hear a friendly
voice
share a laugh
talk about mundanely inane things
a warm body
so to speak
when i feel so cold
& alone

why do i feel so cold & alone?

sometimes i have hope.
maybe i shouldn’t
maybe hope is a thing that just hurts
maybe hope is a thing to put in a box
and forget all about
i wish i could forget all about
my hope
i wish i could put myself
in a box

when i posted on facebook about how my date-to-be not only cancelled on me but also blocked me on facebook, i had a “friend” comment this:

You may not like what I am about to say, but why are you looking so hard? Buy a “toy” online, and focus on your kids, your art, your animals. Isn’t the last thing you need another ex?

what the what the fuck? if you need to start your statement with “you may not like what i am going to say,” maybe you should re-think saying it. is it helpful? in this case–no it is not fucking helpful. i let this woman know that i am not “trying so hard” and that i have toys already. i also let her know that my kids, art, & homestead are my life. they are all i have. literally & figuratively. i asked her why she would begrudge me a human connection? and asked why she assumed it would be another ex?

mother fucker.

earlier that day i did my tarot & they warned me about a petty & jealous woman whose advice i should not heed. i wondered & meditated on this because i could not think of anyone like that in my life.  i concluded that it must be me. that i was petty & out to fuck myself over…huh…i guess i was wrong.
fucking tarot could have warned me that dude was going to flake out on me.
but i knew it already. i felt it already. i don’t know why though. i wonder sometimes if i was communicating with more than one person (that’s how different the impressions were when i was messaging with him.) i was sure he had lost interest. then all of a sudden he wants to see me. then he blocks me on facebook.

or is that just standard internet dating?

my brain likes a puzzle, so i keep going over details in my head.
is he married?
is he crazy?
did one of my outspoken opinions on facebook freak him out?
is he secretly a republican or a moron? (from his pof profile, fb profile, and conversations, he presented himself as someone intelligent, sensitive-ish, and on the left…however, he posted two sophomoric posts a couple of days before our supposed date…then deleted them the next day.)

i have heard other women talk about things like this happening. and on pof it happened once before for me. some guy coming on strong & then vanishing. and i kicked myself for falling for whatever ruse it was.
same here, i want to punish myself for being stupid enough to have any kind of hope of a human connection.

is it my fault for being naive & believing in people? i guess you could look at it that way. and i know plenty of people who have sworn off any hope of ever being in a happy relationship.
i can’t do that.
i can’t give up because giving up would be…giving up.

i can’t give up.

the bat card…rebirth

i have woven
together
love & rejection
my earliest experiences with love
being rejection

people become important to me
once they have
rejected me
i focus on this rejection
instead of
acceptance

i look for my worth
in the eyes
of people…of men
who reject me.

i feel anger that i am not
valued
i let my anger become
who i am.

i am not my anger.
i am not that reflection
i see
in the eyes
of people who cannot
love
me.