images

locket with your small photo inside
an entire army cannot save this perhaps
all i can see is an hourglass with sands running
my son, wondering where i am, and me
wondering where i've been and where this was
supposed to take me.
i wish it were summer and that i had a watering can
that i was outside in a sundress, in the garden
with my son, showing him how to give the flowers
some attention, as i notice how much he has grown
my heart is so heavy today, like a rock broken from a cliff
tied in rope and suspended above the crowd
coffee in stytrofome cups today
turning around and around like a weathervane
for once, waking early at the crow of dawn
not knowing, still, why i was made a centerpiece
when i am not a trophy wife or even a trophy girlfriend
wanting to be a wallflower now, in the garden of citrus and honeysuckle
something from "flowers in the attic"
not knowing how kindred i am anymore and if it's incestuous
to love someone when i see my own reflection in his eyes
not really even knowing what i love or who
some phantom of the opera
fantasia with mickey mouse and his broom, multiplying
i am cinderella with a whole army of cleaning supplies coming back
to kick my ass
my ex telling me to clean the room today
it's fine to be at the bottom, feeling underwater
didn't ask to be more than cinderella either
but noticing such a parade coming and going before me
talent scouts. i want my son and then i'll blow you away with my talent
i still have a few tricks up my sleeve, things you've not seen
no one knew i could write at all or sing, until recently
there is more to me
if you are waiting for me to accept "help" while you don't believe in me
that will never happen
those who love me now are those i keep
i'm not looking for fair weather friends anymore than you want
to be loved for your money or position
hoping to test me to see if i am faithful
without being able to see the face while i was hoping someone could see
beyond my face as well
i have to say, thank you to those who...i don't know
something was different in d.c. yesterday
i had earned some acceptance from people i don't even know and
the energy was different. i noticed more were for me than against me, it
seemed like something had turned over, like a four leaf clover had decided
to show another side to me, to turn the other cheek
i felt lucky to have so many undeserved friends
when we don't know eachother really
you all understand my fears, all of you in this town can relate
to my fears no matter whether which side of the lawn you're on.
oh, there was one man with a finger gagging his own throat
as he stared at me, driving by
i noticed these sorts of expressions are becoming fewer
and farther between, so...
cheers to THAT!
yeah, his finger was down his throat
i must have really pissed him off with my poetry...? or he thinks
we have bulimia in common and he is ALSO showing me his support
in a friendly salute
i also noticed a whole army for me, in the taxis
i want to be the patron of taxi drivers
the Queen of Taxi
chauffeur, limosine, doesn't matter to me
a saint for the people who go unnoticed every day
taking us where we need to be
safely.
***********************

that image is taking a life of its own. turning into a taxi poem. another one! i think it's the third time i've brought up drivers and their cars. they're very important people though! i like to think of them as being central and significant to any still life portrait. what do i like to draw? the man in the taxi. there should be more women drivers though, eh? i don't think i've seen even one.

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

you should have seen me last night. dumping the whiskey into the to-go cup. I sat there, and thought how awful this whole thing was. my situation with chris on the left, me in front of the video game machine at the bar, and "Tex" eyeing me on my right. I told Tex I wanted to take my whiskey to go and he said, "Can you do that?" I was curt and pissed and said, "Yeah, watch me." I said to the bartender, Linda, "Linda, can I have a to-go cup for my coffee?" I had a cup of coffee in front of me and a shot of whiskey in front of me. Linda gave me a hot cup of coffee in styrofome with a lid. I flipped the lid off, dumped the entire cup of coffee into the trash can that Chris was standing next to, and then quickly dumped the shot of whiskey into the cup. It was one-two-three. Very fast and very rhythmic, now that I look back on it. I pressed the lid down, kissed Tex-Looking-4-Piece-of-Ass on the cheek and left, not looking back.

It was like when I would snatch alchohol out of Chris' grasp, and dump the whole thing down into the trash. But this time I was dumping my coffee, and Chris said, "I didn't see that." I said, "No, you didn't. You didn't see anything." That was the last thing I said to him. What did these assholes think I was going to do? drink it in my car?! Yeah, I'm sooo heartbroken about assholes using me with the cooperation of the U.S. government, who want me to just PAY for every little thing, on my own, and keep their hands behind their back...anyway, is that what people think? that I was going to get into my car and start killing people with my irresponsibility? NO, we leave THAT kind of behavior to the Chris Dabneys of the World and His Handlers.

I noticed one person last night as I was driving away. A woman in a very nice car--I don't know what kind because I'm not good with makes and models of cars and being able to pick them out. It was some very top of the line, expensive, foreign sports car and I think it was pale blue? I don't know. I saw her face, as she turned to the left to look at me. She had medium brown hair and it was either naturally curly or permed and pulled back partly. She looked at me with such a sad and sympathetic expression. She knew me, or who I was, but I didn't know her.

I'd like to know if the women who work for the FBI have ever had the guts to file a massive class-action for sexual harassment and other bad behavior, by those in the FBI?

At least I know I don't have to be angry thinking it's Will Wagler being behind all this, knowing the whole time who I was. Poor Will. Poor, poor, Will Wagler. I have to make a huge post apologizing.

I was happy to see Chris. I missed him and I was happy to see him and he made me laugh. But at the same time, I can see things objectively and I did want to know what he had to say for himself. I wanted to know what this had been about. I think it was fairly clear what it was about and I don't feel bad or wrong thinking there should be investigation into his behavior, the same kind of behavior he was trying to excuse OTHER FBI agents for, and I am not going to pay for all those medical bills myself. He is paying for some of that.

I am suing Chris Dabney for medical costs and I have DNA to prove he's the father. Fair is fair and I am not angry. Like I said, I am more disgusted than anything, and concerned, because of the men who have been asked to take me out and get information out of me. And here he was, Chris, trying to get info for legal reasons, the other night through "Bryan Harr."

I felt depressed this early morning, not about Chris, but about the FBI and the U.S. government and police and individuals who have been totally irresponsible and keep covering for their behavior. THIS is exactly why women are not getting anywhere with their complaints of date rape. Why a HUGE group of retired FBI will band together to help some FBI guy charged with a rape, whom they believe is innocent, but will do NOTHING for the women in their agency who report sexual harassment or rape except alienate her or fire her.

Who knows. I am not angry and I feel very calm and cool and rational. I feel like I can care about someone and not want them to die, but still report them for wrong behavior or even crime, and sue where needed.

I have no problem whatever, suing Chris Dabney for medical costs and the FBI for allowing this to happen to me when they already knew I had issues with their agency. Then their guy sees to it that I am fired after I was pregnant and while I was having problems with my high risk pregnancy. I have had a feeling Chris has some kind of part ownership in the Post Pub besides, which would explain why he was able to keep me or let me go, at will and why his opinion even mattered to begin with.

I guess I have to ask for payment first before I can take it to court. I'll have to show proof of what the medical bills are and how much I'm asking for and if I am asking for anything aside from that, in compensation for affiliation with the FBI and trying to set me up in a sting along with everything else.

Oh, I'm quite sure Mr. Bryan Harr aka Chris Dabney, would tell me to "pick your battles."

Sure, sure. Whatever you want, U.S.A. and FBI and CIA and U.S. police.

I'm going to have to sue the FBI along with Chris to be able to prove he's with THEM and that he has money to compensate with and is not just some poor waiter. Another motive for someone to do what they did to my son in the Prince George's hospital with the MRI machine and then try to cover everything up. There were people who didn't want me with Chris for a reason, and they knew who he was working for all along, and no one cared to tell ME.

Meanwhile, I've got people like Pete Garrity getting involved.

It would have been nice if I'd ended up in jail, wouldn't it? I could have been sent to jail and prevented from ever making any complaint. It would keep me from finishing my OIG complaint, from writing more about what Chris and how he was involved with me and how he had inside information on me from either working for the FBI or knowing people with motive against me from the Catholic church. It would keep me in jail.

Then here's Chris and the rest of the guys, using OTHER guys to get to me and get info on me, and pretending to be "helping" with people like "Ken". On one hand, telling me they'll pay for my legal costs, and then on the other hand, doing interrogatories so they have something to use AGAINST me for their own legal cover up and protection, and hoping I'll go for a mental evaluation right away and give them something else to work with, to use against me.

These people, the whole time, with the U.S. government and not ONCE offering normal and valid support, or financial aid or compensation, but just trying to get what THEY want for themselves.

I also noticed, in the interoggatory with Chris/Bryan Harr, a LOT of questions about my past relationships with men and those I made complaints against. Like, did I want something romantic with him, and this guy was trying to say "I'm sure you were hurt because you thought something could work out with him and you were expecting him to leave the monastary for you." I told him, no, that wasn't true. I never once imagined I could even kiss Br. Ansgar. I did not report him because I was spurned. I had been disappointed by his behavior because I trusted him to be what he said he was about, religious things, and then he'd been LYING to me and trying to get me into closed rooms, shacks and chapels without windows and then acting guilty about it and lying. Here was "Bryan" trying to get a full interview out of me, and then upset he couldn't finish what he wanted to finish when he was first on the phone with me and then so happy to finish it off later.

I have been very poorly treated by the U.S. and I think this only adds to my whole story and claim that the U.S. has been interested only in covering their own and doing me damage.

They are not able to hold themselves accountable and try to pat themselves on the back for ONE thing they halfway did right out of ALL the things they did so wrong, and try to appeal to my sympathies, and justify what is actually not just unethical but CRIMINAL behavior, and then think that I am going to be stupid enough to think they CARE about me and are on my side at all.

THEY do not know how to pick and choose their own fucking battles. They picked a big fucking fight with me and continue to cover the actions of more than one of their men, who did very bad things to me. Then they try to have me arrested and thrown in JAIL so I can't complain further.

At least with Chris and this end of the FBI, I can file the lawsuit in D.C. This is a continuing cause of action, and I can throw everything that's happened to me, into a lawsuit against the federal government.

I could file this case in Washington, Oregon, or Washington D.C.
*******************

It's almost noon and I have stayed here waiting for Pac. NW hours to make some calls. I am trying to find Will and his family and I'm trying to check on my bank account too to see if anything is there.

I took the to-go cup of whiskey with me, to the house last night. I didn't drink it last night. I had only one shot, which was at the bar, and I felt buzzed enough. So I had nothing and just went to bed last night. I'm contemplating having a noon drink at this point.

I'm having a NORMAL period, SO FAR, which is making me wonder, if this keeps up, if I was being given some kind of medication in my food or something, against my will. Something that would make it possible to have twins, with one in the ovary. Like a fertility drug. I seriously wonder if someone slipped me, or was slipping me, horomones or something. It seems unlikely but if I just start having normal periods all of a sudden, I think that will be very odd, especially after talked to the "doctor" over the phone and being given an interrogatory.

Wouldn't it be great to find out this happened and that I have even MORE people to sue? I wouldn't even doubt it. I mean, I think it's highly unlikely, but NO ONE thinks it's normal that I had twins and an ovarian pregnancy to boot. It's extemely unsual and is most often the result of fertility treatments.

Not only that, A., from the beginning, was telling me not to have my horomone levels checked. Why not? I thought that was sort of weird. Like, why wouldn't I or what would I not want to know? I don't know.

We'll see what happens from hereon. I may end up getting my discovery from the state finally, and find out they were totally screwing with me and that's why they didn't want me to have a copy of my case file. I doubt it, but if my family was involved, as they WOULD be, it's possible.
*************************************************

a litter of golden retriever or golden lab puppies
has been born and they are climbing over eachother
i almost fell asleep in the tub today
seeing them and i've forgotten everything else
someone rappeling on a cliff now
a lonely tree, gnarled trunk, at the top
cracking and peeling bark
icicles from the falls plunging into the hellish
halfway of space between sky and skirt on the ground
pinnacles of pinaforms from pioneers at the waste
at the bottom of the lake
truck plunging to the water but hitting on square tires
tires hit to all sides
N
S
WE
bouncing and bounding with a man behind the steering wheel
springs may break from the cushion
the forest and the falls
silver springs
megaphone for a cross country race and no one
sees the netting, lying across the beige grass
a web for catching an ankle and twisting it underground
jump over the log, walk across the plank to the other side
of the lake
hurling from the plane above are nets coming undone
splitting into mushrooms to broach the field
stumps of dirt and fungi
spores for assuming new shapes and lsd goggles take their places
crouched down the army hiking boots to elbows
trunk for resting to steady
in the wrong place, wearing beige for the desert but the
war is in the pines, in the conifers trees in the forest by the falls
standing out like a sore thumb
bleeds for the shark
thumbprints in the height of the top of the tent
wipe the corner of your mouth
everyone in green helmets and machine guns
into the open in a pack of wolves
tearing open the silk black wrapper
at night, brilliant light on red roses on the desk
shaving by a mirror hanging from canvas
steel bars framing you
you are in the picture to the right
bent towards the mirror
razor and then a fuck you with a laugh
sunlight streaming onto your back like a parachute
pots and pans with silver spoons made of titanium
still look like silver spoons
something i could bend with my mind and hang like
boomerangs on a nail on the wall
shaking in the wing like a butterfly on a stem
falling underneath the leaf but holding on by the feet
upside down, the firefly, the moth, the butterfly
shake rattle and roll
guitar in the corner with no women to sing to
camp
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