images

my father
once bright and sparkling like a glass of martinis sparkling apple cider,
now slumped like a heavy wool coat on a bending thin wire frame of a wife,
hard-nosed like the rocks around the riverbed,
shifting like the water from the stream passing by,
collecting what he can to hide in a suitcase and post office box
waiting for a windfall, as she's rocking in a chair with a magazine
for apples to fall of the tree and roll into a coffer of gold
pleasing the wife, turning up his nose to his only daughter
who he loved most, who his own wife knew he loved best,
his own son knew and mother compensated for it by hating me the more
and favoring her son, holding him tight while she nursed her own wounds
me, squealing at the door with daddy holding out a new book for me to read
spent every last penny on me
bought the happy meal when mother said we could only choose one thing
everything was different, then, when daddy was around
i was the one with promise, i looked very ladylike, in my church dress,
i made daddy laugh when i said "i bite her!" and made him proud at the
number of men i turned around to the point he felt sorry for the guys
"don't lead them on" he admonished me. "i'm not!" i said. whatever
could he mean? I was nice to everybody, that wasn't leading someone to drink
time marches on and with each new truck to boost a middle aged ego,
and house, and property, and promise of secure retirement,
with a belly full of the best seafood in Bannon
apples ringing like bells from a tree
me, pleading for my mother, the one who hates me,
"if you leave her, i won't be on your side." i took my mother's side
to keep them together. my father telling me i had saved him
more than once
but for this, i receive nothing, not even when my own family has had
a part in betraying me and the bairds have lied their scottish plaid socks
off, clamoring in a clan over how to cover their losses
gave my mother my only doll, because i felt sorry for her
my father saw me buy my mother birthday presents with everything i had
i spent all my money on them, when i had money
offered them loans
but the car crashed on the telephone post and when i called
it wasn't me my father asked about.
it was the car.
how was the car? was the car damaged? and how much it would be
to get the stationwagon down from the tree
and people wonder why i hate money
so much
when i see what it has done to my own family.
the father who stood up for me,
slumps now, in middle age stubbornness, unwilling
to break with my mother or take my side
because he is thinking of the windfall now
shouldn't i get something for over 30 years of misery with this family?
he thinks
forgeting his daughter who he did once love and cry over
forgetting his grandson, who he never wanted,
forgetting his oath, his all-determinate oath given over the phone
to me when I could foretell the future
and no one believed in my prophesy
couldn't imagine this one
was prophetic
had eyes to see beyond the veil
couldn't trust me
as others held out grimy fingers, knowing of my gift, tearing into it
others believed in me more than my family
robbed me with the knowledge of good and evil
while they were babes in the garden
wide-eyed pigs in a poke
before the fall
believed the garden was the same...heard of a "fall"
and thought it was regarding the next door neighbor's hip replacement
father sends his get well wishes now
for my broken heart
***********************************************

how did that poem i wrote go?
daddy faddy waddy paddy o daddio
colored for you with broken crayons
made you laugh even as an adult,
cutting cheese with the plastic wrapper still around--
"you've always had your own way of doing things"
you said after trying to show me
"the right way" to cut cheese and I disagreed
saying this way worked as well and was easier
because i didn't have to first peel the wrapper
just cut through it
shaking your head, looking at me as if
how in the world anyone would figure me out
thinking to himself
is this why she's not married?
stubborn as you
but you told me
"you have a soft heart"
watching for me to start crying at a sad movie
with animals dying
humoring me when i brought home wigs
for everyone to wear for pictures
i was never more surprised than to find
my family agreeing to wear wigs
for me
i guess it's easier than keeping an
expensive promise
anything to amuse me, as long as it's cheap
i know you will love me if it doesn't cost you anything
but i don't know how to cheapen myself
well enough, to your liking
********************************

bernadette shoves mud and grass into her mouth
smearing dirt upon her breast
hands outstretched to the sky i see diana
praying and no one really knew how she could pray
women at the wall, where their children's heads were smashed
before them, led from them, taking a ribbon from her hair, a red ribbon.
only thing to survive was a piece of cloth
someone sewed it onto a flag and made it a border
joan of arc ran into battle knowing she couldn't keep her hair long
must make a choice, look the part
of either the renaissance woman or a man in a landmine hat
take the religion of another, convert
or burn at the stake,
go quietly now, with a white flag or subvert
assume the sins of the world and take the blame and pervert the course of justice
pierce my hands with the sins of another, lay the crown of infidelity on my brow
turn the key in the lock
the swinging bookcase, where one may change costume to suit
the occasion, this calls for lace and silk golden fainting
falling into the lap of the man who calls for me
do not stand tall at the door, fall like a languishing delicate handkerchief
then accuse me of being weak
approve of my humility
make me wait upon you to impale me with my cross
punish me if I dare wear the ensign of the cross on my breast proudly
*************************************************************************

custard, cake, & pastry dream

the coral looks like butter toffee
doesn't it? everything looks so yummy undersea
last night i had a dream i was eating
a thousand custard and souffle style cakes
at church. i went to the back for coffee and tea
and woe is me! began nibbling at the chocolate cake
first, scraping off the frosting, and the custard was
sort of a pudding, so rich and the cake light like souffle
but wet and melting to the touch. ate and ate
the chocolate cake, and vanilla, and several custard filled
cookies and saw the cherry tart on the wall
almost dragged it down but i was worried someone would notice
then i saw the man from the gallery selling artwork
in the corner and thought, "that's what I should do!"
i should paint nudes for a pretty penny and make them seem
important in their nudity. naughty.
saw a landslide of green grass into the pond,
but stood on the cliff with the artists, and some of them
wanted me in a very intimate way, and i stood at the back
of the bus, under a stormy gray sky, thinking about the
cakes and wondering what they would all think to see i'd
ravished them like a mouse, ummm...no, like a hog,
still want the cherry tart, waking, i reached out for the
cherry tart and custard cookies and found my painkillers
for miscarriage and anxiety
such a nice dream, really, a very thoughtful dream the
angels gave me last night, knew the way to my heart,
with a slew of artists lusting after me, an idea for making money
and a delicious pastry start.
(*hark! the herald angels sing, glory to the newborn queen!*)
*********************************************************
prologue to custard, cake and pastry dream

to fulfill my dream, i embarked on a mission
shaking legs, thin veins with spots about my arms and face
from blood transfusion--got someone else's leprosy, they screened
for HIV but don't even THINK to screen for leprosy
so i had a dream about cake. i ate so much cake and custard filled
things, and then made my way to the artists by the water
aahhhhhh, such a seductive important dream, surreal by the banks
with a bridge in the distance
woke to find my legs again, pants whistling around me like a siren spinning
stumbled like the drunken man i used to know,
to coffee and a custard filled donut
dunkin' doughnuts and found the paper today
was that brennan is in charge of the cia
and gaza is under seige or seiging
i've one baby crying in washington, who's first
desire after mexico with the crazy baird and avila family
was to watch "bob the builder",
another baby wasting away so no pathology can be done,
and baby number three shriveling in my ovary toxed on methergine
oh what a beautiful mornin', oh what a beautiful day, i've got a beautiful feelin'...
caught a ride to the burger king with the taxi for a car service
man thought i was the one waiting, and i said no
but could you give me a ride to burger king? we lost all my tails
as he drove back and forth and up and down the street
thinking of the wrong burger king.
"well, you've done a great job of losing my tails" i said
another woman stares at me and i ask them what THEY
would think
if a nurse let THEIR blood run back into a IV line to fill a bag with blood.
got my jr. whopper and apple pie when i wanted cherry pie after the cherry tart dream, but stumbling on my shaking legs and quivering heart, back home,
i wonder if anyone at all thinks i'm a little bit special
not for my sectoral heterochroma eyes, red hair, or enemies,
but for any other reason i don't know about yet
would like to know, if i'm missing something
if someone has already discovered something about me that i'm not aware of
will you give me some good news for once?
i had a very poor black woman promise to pray for me
right before i was bled by leeches in the OBGYN ward
i told her, "god answers my prayers for everyone except my prayers for me"
she said she would pray for me, and i am hoping she's
some kind of fairy godmother in disguise
that it's her prayer i need, and that something is going to get through
i don't know what, i didn't ask for anything in particular
but she said she wouldn't forget about me and would pray for
me when she was home, would devote herself to pray for me
i believe her
and on the phone, with the my mother reminding me how
much money this call to the hospital was costing her,
i think maybe i know what i need,
as i retort, "yeah, this call is costing ME money too, and it's 10 cents
a minute for me" (not to mention i have less to spare),
i think it would be nice
to have a partner who loves me more than my family
who will fight for my children the way i do, for the world i try to
reality hits hardest in the hospital, anyone knows,
when you see who finds it important enough to visit
or call, and who decides to stay if it's a long time
and who decides to leave
wanting to be free to live, not tied to a hospital stand
or bed, or book of Job.
i got home, on my stick legs, and ate my doughnut.
haven't had the whopper or pie,
not very hungry anymore, in real life,
just in my dreams
in my dream i was soooo very hungry and i ate everything in sight
whatever i wanted, not really caring what anyone thought of me
but i did think, "this is a fanTASTIC cake! i have to find out who the baker is!"
if i ever had a wedding, i thought in my dream, there would have to be a
cake like the cake was in my dream
these cakes, they put all others to shame. these were
rich wet chocolate souffle and custard cakes.
******************************************************************

i like sylvia plath's poem best, about the fish under the ice
i remember how stunning it was, and i sat there, breath withheld,
stunned, really, like i'd been hit with a tranquilizer gun
at such a thing of beauty, and i think it was the one about
fish under ice but i should check that out, my memory fails me
but for the feeling i had in my throat when i finished the last line
stuck. so stuck on that page, and stuck in my heart, and my breath
stuck in my throat--at exhale i was in a panic attack, trying to
get enough oxygen to fill my lungs, i took in the beauty of the line
and was drowning like a fish, gasping, floundering for air
it was the strangest thing--my notice
**************************************************************

i told my lover, as he lay beside me:
"you have no idea who you're sleeping with...I tell you, you have NO idea..."
and he laughed
i told him he had to be careful though, being with me, shouldn't tell anyone,
"i'm serious" i said. "BAD things have happened. the last guy someone thought was the father of my baby was killed." i began to giggle--
"So," I said, "be careful if you notice a balloon popping...--well, i mean,
if you're standing next to a bunch of balloons and they start popping...RUuuuuuhn."
he cracked up laughing, this lover
and wanted to love them there and then, even at 5 a.m.
until we got into
an argument, and i was, then unknown to be high on one week's worth of pregnancy hormone, jumped up and said, for lack of words, "You ASSHOLE! WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM? A PIECE OF SHIT AND AN ASSHOLE? YOU TREAT ME LIKE I'M A PIECE OF SHIT AND AN ASSHOLE" I went on but no words would come to me except asshole, piece of shit, and fucker. i was at an HCG loss. he stared up at me in shock and almost amusement and he went, drily, to the couch, said it wasn't me, it was him and watched t.v. and i was peeved and wanted to have sex and he left me in my lust and rage. asshole. manipulative bastard. i wanted to leave then and there
and he wouldn't let me. laughing, chided me saying where would i go at that time of night? it was the last time we were alone together. my radars went up and stayed up, rising with each increase of HCG. his smell, which turned me on like no others' did, was suddenly repulsive to me in pregnancy, but i wanted him, all the time, and wasn't with anyone else, thought maybe some blue moon something would change and
i might be able to trust him. started thinking about all of his odd comments. mind games. loved my babies regardless.
**********************************************************************
good song here, "cry love" by john hiatt. listening to alison krause radio on lastfm. think i like the hiatt guy. and nickel creek and alison's, take me for longing and other stuff. then i hear stupid songs like lee ann womaks song "stronger than i am" which make me think about my son and piss me off. this is a really good instrumental by chris thile--club g.r.o.s.s. from "not all who wander are lost". i've always liked that saying, bc it applies to me, but in CPS lingo, those who wander are not "intellectually curious" but "unstable". these are meat & potato people who are stuck to their hardwood chairs with a fat smack of mashed pototoes on their backsides. like dar williams too. like this sort of jazzy stuff
***************************************************
my son came back from mexico and the first thing he wanted to do, i'm told, was watch "bob the builder". my son is obviously just being set in front of a t.v. all day. when he was with me, the first thing he'd want to do is play with me or go outside and play. and he did love his little tool bench i bought for him. he LOVED it and no one would get it for him when he was taken from me, holly avila's excuse was that "it will clutter up the room". yeah, great. who do YOU want for a mom? the one who is paranoid of "clutter" of toys or the one who will play with you and put you above everything else. the one who will supervise you and let you play with lots of kids from the neighborhood, or the one who just THROWS you into a FT daycare where my son is obviously watching t.v. all day and going brain dead. these people are idiots. i have to find the poem i liked so much. the one about the fish under the water or ice. it had a color to it, i think it was red, but i need to find it, it was fairly short. read it first time and last time in 2004 and wrote an english paper on plath and how her suicide and understanding of society was actually a strength and not a weakness...she was stronger than most around her but lonely in her strength she saw what they couldn't see and felt what most were immune to..i think my teacher thought it was demented. ha! that i would have anything positive to say about suicides. i can't find it. i'd have to get her books out and scour them. i'd find it faster that way. too difficult to piece what i remember together online.
pretty song by heather nova "you left me a song". like shelby lynne, "bend"...jazzy. i really like alison krause's "let me touch you for a while"--totally lusting song. the scarlet tide is very nice lyrically. love eastmountainsouth's "winter".
**********************
my non-poetic tirade of "what if" for my family and detractors:

what if i had not done any daydreaming?
"your daughter is always staring out the window" the teacher said,
"your daughter is an underachiever...talks too much...passes notes in class..."
what if your daughter just didn't wasn't inspired by teachers who talked slow,
whose spelling she had to correct, who refused to accept an english variation of blond--blonde, and favour for favor. teachers who had absolutely no imagination
except to hang pre-cut cartoon pumpkin faces from one wall to the other thinking we might, what? be inspired to paint autumn scenes in renoir imitation?
what if i had not been so independent?
what if i'd been married at 18 years of age?
to think, how much money might have been saved, perhaps.
i could have spent all these years, doing "normal" things, helping someone stack tapes in a storefront window, organizing drawers, going to PTA...
how in the hell did you ever think i would be a regular caravan PTA mom? you think i would be able to keep my mouth shut when someone's stupid idea would cost the school a brickload of money and do nothing for the children?
i would have married, at 18 years, to crawl out of my snakeskin, to bite the man sleeping next to me, in spite for capturing me and trying to keep me in a windowbox.
i would have started wearing shirts with a button or two undone, and
shagged the man who worked on the new house construction
and i would have pissed all the other soccer moms off by wearing itsy bitsy shorts
off to the games and showing off my betty grable thighs and pamela anderson calves.
i would have gone online when my husband was watching t.v.
and chatted it up in naughty chatrooms for ideas, i wouldn't have been
checking out recipes for mustard and mayonnaise.
i would have been the most progressive mother in the classroom and
scoffed when my daughter (if i had any) said her teacher said degrading things
about women.
do you think i would have been happy to sit around the house,
cooking and cleaning for my husband, wanting to wear only target clothing,
i would have spent his money on french discount clothing at cache
and bebes and BCBG, and then upgraded my style to true designerware
i would have been an activist mother wearing better clothing
that's about it.
maybe i would have more simplified goals, and voiced support for free luncheons
for the poor, and organized after-school activities.
do you think i would have kept my knees clean and kept my feet off the grass?
what if you had had a nice cookie cutter daughter who just
married the first one to pay her any attention
and clinging to his sleeve, feigned delight at every
neighborhood BBQ and boring business meeting.
what did you, exactly, envison for me?
that i had received straight A's in grade school so no teacher complained,
just to go onto an early 18 years old child-bride marriage
and work as a dental hygenist? and have 2 standard children, um, without
one being in the ovary.
i could have had such a normal life, without monks, and FBI, and spies, enemies,
bad doctors, and children, and an insiders view to injustice and the system...
and you think I CHOSE the latter, that it was my choice, i guess, because
I did NOT choose to be held down by a boring marriage and job,
i was free, and i frightened others with my freedom
and the freer i was the more afraid they became, by my boldness, to speak
the truth. how the hell does one speak the truth about mustard and mayonnaise?
about grit between the teeth and necessity of flossing often
you cannot imagine any of the real things that happened to me because you are
stuck
in a time warp and cannot reconcile your dreams for my life from reality. you
imagined my life would be far more commonplace and cannot accept the truth is
stranger than fiction, and your fiction for me will never come to pass.
i will never stand beside the daffodils passing out PTA flyers with a smile
with my minivan in the back and kids in the daycare like most middle class mothers
with my fake boobs and nothing more exciting about their lives than their fake boobs
i have come far too far to ever go back to even slightly normal.
i have come far too far, in my freedom of speech, to ever feel restrained
or worry that i may be offending someone who offends the earth with their plastic
imprint.
whatever angel-madonna-mother singing in the choir image you have, you will have
to rid from your eggshell white minds and realize i am the most low-maintenance
woman you may ever know, and that fact is enough to make all the high maintenance
women rush out in droves to have their nails and hair done and bikini areas waxed
in a desperate attempt to keep their husband's and lovers minds on them instead
of a freethinking, spirited, passionate and natural woman who is comfortable
with herself, with her body, with her mind, and with her life. it's difficult to imagine someone like me, wearing the same shabby clothing every day, would be attractive without trying so hard to be. i'm not prettier, maybe i'm just different.
no one will ever hold me down, box me in, or save themselves by trying to
match me with a mental illness so they don't have to worry about others
following in my footsteps. there is no medication for me, and you will all
have to reconcile yourselves with the fact that to deal with life with me, you
may need to enter psychotherapy and accept some anxiety and depression meds to
get you through the worst part of this--the shock.
once you get over the shock and come to grips with reality,
you have a good chance of recovery.
instead of fighting an upstream battle, you could learn to relax
did you think i would always put on the same face every woman in America
is expected to put on, STILL, in this century? how angry the others are, that
i upset the status quo and undermine their hard efforts at conformity, who
wish to be praised for this virtue alone.
how upsetting it must be, that women like me tend to polarize men in hate-love
groups where the men either want to kill us or cannot stop themselves from
wanting to spend each and every night in bed with us
did the others? think they could bend and break me down?
just think, all of you, how MUCH money you could have saved, and
how much time and energy, if you'd left me alone or played fair
instead, you created one lie after the other
and now you'll fight to the death and risk losing everything,
just to keep your cover, won't you?
did you think this would be inexpensive?
i may be low maintenance in my own life and choices, but
you have created one huge high maintenance risk for yourselves
one massive paint job after the other, to keep your house from looking shabby,
one massive foundation rehaul after the other, and drained ditches,
and unclogging gutters, and hiding flaws with a new row of shrubs,
and a better lock and steel bars are on your windows.
you have bent over backwards, as landscapers for your properties
one high maintenance mess and you cannot even remember, anymore,
how it was before me.
imagine. what was it like? how have i changed you?
do you like yourselves better? have you fought what you knew was a good
thing, just to keep things the same, or have you really believed, all along
that i was the devil? ha! because i was a woman with a voice.
who chooses, despite all of your attempts, to say whatever she likes
and despite your desperate attempts,
is still believed by many,
even though her own family doesn't believe her.
Jesus's family had a lot of doubts about their son too.
I'm not saving i'm a messiah, i'm just saying looking to the family
of an individual is not the best place to look for credibility.
family's and parents tend to doubt because they cannot imagine
the person who used the bathroom in their same house, and the same
toilet paper, has anything more to offer than what they witnessed
at home, when that person was eating cereal at the breakfast table
and getting into arguments over how long they had been on the phone with friends.
**********************************


fern, mascara running onto your cheeks, tiny ant on your forearm
flick it off, rain-lashed by a tongue, your dog with you
in the forest, thick of grass and brush
dirt on your shoes and ankles,
bracing your run against a tree trunk
hand spinning you out, wet in t-shirt and shorts, into a dance
tucking you back in, no one watching but the dog
the silver linings fell in between boughs
like tinsel falling through christmas trees,
some stuck, most falling to
swim like eels in the puddles in the dirt path
streamers in your hair dark brown, almost black, from the water
can you tell us what you see, or are you still running
how many rings are on your fingers now?
pulling off the one that mattered most
throwing it down
i know that you want to be free
your eyes have been so hard, blinded by the ice
when you blink you lay a barbed wire
a railroad track, a centipede, stitches
you will undo every one
no one counted on you
shit. no one ever counted on you.
bright red and brilliant pink roses blooming
your breath billowing
turning back, taking every step back to start
through the muddy trail
walking on paper, your footprint on every paper
in the stack
the print of your running shoe
now drying on the pristine covers
rack to rack
someone will be brushing off the dried mud
to understand what you are saying
heavenly light, even a spacecraft
what no one believes, the eels swimming
the break
teeth falling out, all of those teeth falling out
in so many dreams, canines punch-hole into briefs
molars stamping, front teeth underlining
blood streaming into pools
silver eels swim into a bath of crimson blood
flicking, flashing, moving rivulets
through the tribune
between the bony ridge, along the heart
inside every muscle
echo after echo, scream after song, rising to
crescendo the orgasm of envy
splitting beads in two,
burning splinters into one part
running with your report getting wet
researching survival in hiding
a metal trunk, among the trees, a burning star
in the skies
wipe the mud onto your shorts, touch the door
kicking off the shoes by the floor mat
dog lapping at your heel
for water, so thirsty for water
kara
corrine


*******************************


cutting with uneven shears
patterned like the sun and moon
pajamas flannel for the baby
lamplight fills the room
*****************
like the be good tanya's "in spite of all the damage", and just noticed the cover of their cd...love it, with the red and bee and sunflowers.i've written down a ton of songs i've heard and liked: kasey chambers "the captain", the be good tanyas "scattered leaves", belinda carsisle's "turpentine", faith hills' "this kiss", bonnie raitts "aint gonna let you break my heart again", emmylou harris' "orphan girl", robert plant and alison krauses' "stick with my baby", heather nova's "you left me a song", shelby lynnes' "bend", mindy smith's "you just forgot". liked lucinda williams' "last time" or whatever the last song was that was played by them...really liked the lyrics a lot. just heard the song "monopoly" by shawn colvin--really heartbreaking sort of lust-inducing at the same time, song. really liked it. like nancy griffiths' "boots of spanish leather" a crying song. very pretty

i will remember you, and your secret name. what is your secret name? can i know you still? roseanne cash's "will you remember me". like "i dug up a diamond" by mark knopfter and emmylou too. the fiddle was the sparkle of the diamond. "the captain" by chambers again...so pretty and childlike. i wonder who the captain is she speaks of?
***************************************
heels in hand
swinging them lightly over the rocks
walking barefoot from stone to stepping stone
hair blown by willows and oak trees on the other side of the street
calling out to me
the quiet game, the mistake is a string around my finger
don't forget, you wear a jacket
snapping back in the wind
lemon twist in Granny's drink
stirring slowly, she asked me
what i thought of him
tells me she's still praying there will be someone to "look after" me
i wonder if she is thinking of a late marriage or an attendant
for my convalescent home
"looking after me" i snort, and say, "GRANeee."
Granny turns up the ranchero music with the horns
and looks out of the lavendar curtains
as if expecting some stranger suitor to be walking up the driveway
like a man returning from WWII after a very long AWOL
shirt off, beard grown, pants ripped with suspenders
and a bottle in a paper bag
backback, oh wait, that's my vision, Granny sees
him in a polished military uniform, untarnished
by the years, shoes shining
smile on face, hair intact
nevermind i've given over to wearing housedresses and mumus
even though I haven't large pendulous breasts to enhance the pleats
in the bosom. Granny sees him plucking an apple from the tree
and biting in with a healthy grin and crunch,
and swinging me around his arm,
i see myself asking him where the hell he's been
and beating him up.
if he stays, that's his test, he might be a "keeper" as Granny would say
so funny i never care to think about men except
when i have no babies
and no babies when i have the men, so backwards
just need me, really,
i choose me, like margaret cho chooses herself
i choose me and the comedic tragedy
should someone step into the mud puddle
i'll ask him to wipe his feet
and sit long enough to get his story
if it's interesting, maybe he'll stay a little longer
than usual. what have you done to impress me sir?
which mountains have you climbed and valleys crossed
just to find me
which skies did you fly through to spy on me?
have a drink, sir.
(aside. "Granny! make this one a strong drink! shhh...")
tell me, what is your real name?
and who sent you?
I am given over to using pretzel wood chopsticks from the
chinese restaurant, to hold up my hair
i wear sunglasses to hide my eyes
the giveaway to my royalty
let's talk about YOU, sir.
crossing my feet neatly at the ankle, in my violet peppered
mumu, he takes note of very attractive ankles,
not a cankle in sight
no blight on this bud...er, late bloomer
we all heard, sitting on the davenport,
the true story of the woman who prayed to
meet her husband. his plane crashed a few moments later
and he walked across the field for assistance
i think we all read it in one of Granny's gospel tracts
lying around, the closest thing to a romance novel
in the house. it was reaaaaally true, i believed
it for the longest time, expecting my man to
fall out of an airplane at any moment, as they say,
"when you leeeeast expect it"
*********************************************************
really dumb thoughts, or poem so erased it. don't like the
one above either, but that's a silly one i don't care about much

i asked god to give me things to write about, and he has,
and important things too, even if some people don't believe me.
this isn't a poem, just thoughts.
i haven't felt like getting into the whole horrible hospital
experience at er last time. it was truly awful and i'm tired from it
but i guess i'll try to write to finish that post. i'll have to
post the photo of my blood in the wire/iv/bag when i have a chance.

eew. i really don't like jewel. i didn't realize until now. just
heard "perfectly clear". ugggh. too affected and shivering. yuck.
like roseanne cash, she sounds so young. is this johnny cash's wife?
what's her name?

i am looking up stuff about heterochromia and i'm stumbling across more and more medical journals about intrauterine irradiation and heterochromia so it makes me wonder more. there's actually a lot more about radiation and heterochromia than i initially thought.

i need to take a pain pill and then i'll go back and finish the ER posts from my last visit and respond to someone who made a comment on a post today or yesterday. i published it but haven't responded to it.

i just published an advice post on swinging. lol. for swingers from non-swingers. and for info purposes. changed my radio on lastfm. to keith urban radio. so sad and country but actually, this stuff has been good. urban, rascall flatts and now gary allan and i didn't even know he was country "best i ever had"

listening to this faith hill song, "There will come a day". about a "day" when we'll be in a better place and where "our father waits" where he'll wipe away every tear. this next line is for christopher hitchens...lol. actually, in a more somber tone, i wish i could say i believed there was a day like this, where god or jesus or both were waiting, but whereas i used to take great consolation in this idea, and comfort, i don't anymore. instead, i hear things like this and feel sad, and wistful, like i wish it could be true, but i don't have the same faith. i still believe somehow in god and even jesus but i wouldn't be surprised if a jesus bloodline was discovered and i wish i could believe in everything being made right in a next life, but i would feel much better if things were made right in this life.

like this "if i fall, you're going down with me" song by dixie chicks. good lyrics lol. like this bonnie and clyde song too. ugggh. why am i listening to country for some reason? i guess this stuff on this station isn't so bad. sort of interesting, some of it.