Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

8 Things

Lil Bit has tagged me for a meme. Thanks, woman! I have to make lists of 8 things. When she's stern like that, I can't help but obey. ;-)

8 Places I Have Been To

1. London, England, where the above picture was taken at Madame Tussaud's. That's me on the right. And anyway, Scarlet dared me to post it, and everyone knows I can't resist a dare.

2. Toronto, Canada, where I shopped for shoes, and saw Les Miz.

3. Manila, Philippines, where I saw the American cemetery for the GI's who died there in WWII.

4. Hell, Michigan, which does indeed freeze over.

5. Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, which they say is haunted.

6. San Antonio, Texas, where I used to live. On my visit back, I stayed at the historic Menger Hotel, which is also said to be haunted.

7. Provincetown, Mass., which is like a never ending Pride event.

8. Amherst, Mass. where the Emily Dickinson homestead is. It was a profound experience for me. She was glad I had come.

8 Movies That I Love

1. When Night Is Falling, about a female professor at a religious college who meets an irresistible woman from a traveling circus. She shoots an arrow through her window, with phone number attached. *sigh*

2. Hable Con Ella (Talk To Her), about two men in love with women who are in comas. Sounds awful, but it's great.

3. Session 9, my favorite creepy movie, about a salvage crew working under a tight deadline inside the extremely creepy--and deserted-- Danvers Lunatic Asylum.

4. Jeux D'Enfants (Love Me If You Dare), one of those love it or hate it movies, about a childhood game of dares that takes over the lives of the two participants.

5. Ordinary People, about the disintegration of a family, with Mary Tyler Moore, Donald Sutherland and Timothy Hutton.

6. The Producers, with Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder trying to produce a sure fire flop. Hysterical.

7. The Spitfire Grill, about a girl struggling to fit in as she tries to start over.

8. Clean And Sober, in which Michael Keaton's character tries to get straight.


He's Dead, Jim

He's dead, Jim.

Slick-talker Johnny Walker gentleman gin,

He's dead.

My friend from the beginning,

Just like we'd known each other forever

He made everything better

Made my mother finally just

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up

But now,

He's dead, Jim,

A penny for the old guy.

He's dead, Jim,

But he listened when I said,

I cannot be ugly

And I cannot be queer

Look at me on the tightwire between denial and self-destruction,

Anybody'd need a drink

If this was what they did all day,

But now

He's dead, Jim,

And the circus has left town.

He's dead, Jim,

But there was a time when I loved him

And would have done anything just to be with him

Johnny Angel,

How I love him

And I'm hopin' someday he'll love me...

What of it,

If he took me places no lady should be,

White faced and bloody kneed?

What of it,

If he kept trying to throw me out of the car at the asylum, the penitentiary, the morgue?

What of it,

If he left me alone and not knowing my own name

Passed out on the rolling lawns at dawn?

It's a fine and private place.

He's dead, Jim,

But I can still feel his embrace.

He's dead, Jim,

Now I have new friends,

Coffee, books, and my own thoughts.

I have raised a child without him

And I hope,

Done some good in the world.

Even though the grave stays fresh,

He's dead, Jim,

Lo these twenty-three years.

He's dead, Jim,

But now I know

There will never be enough love

Enough chocolate

Enough sex

Enough anything

To make the longing that started it go away.

I don't believe

In cures

In congregations

Or in Yoko and me

That's not reality

But I have come to believe that a power greater than myself can restore me to sanity

And I am grateful for every grace that's given,


He's not dead, Jim,




Sunday, April 26, 2009


God sneezes,

Creating the Universe.

"Now you're going to have to take care of it, cos I'm not about to," says God's mother.

"Remember the hamsters?"

God sighs,

And twiddles at a planet or two with Her finger.

She'd rather have had a turtle.

God grows up and checks into the Raddison Riverfront Hotel.

She does not give Her mother the number.

God orders moo goo gai pan from room service.

Some guy says they don't have moo goo gai pan.

God says, "Do you have any idea who I am?"

God goes to the hotel bar to collect Her thoughts,

But people keep telling Her their problems.

She gets that a lot.

The next day, God goes shopping.

She wants some strappy sandals but forgets Her debit card.

She looks right,

Looks left,


And suddenly they are "Free! Today Only!"

God smiles.

She has always liked Her own printing.

God gets a job at Danny's Coffee Shop.

It turns out that She is a wizard with chalk,

And the menu boards She creates are spectacular.

In time, God moves in with a girl named Chloe.

On Sunday mornings, they play the Flaming Lips and dance.

When they are done dancing, they do other things.

Chloe asks, "Do you think we're going to hell?"

God's delighted laughter is like the Hallelujah Chorus, except girlier.

"I wouldn't worry about it," She says.


Tuesday, April 21, 2009


1 a: deprived or robbed of the possession or use of something —usually used with of b: lacking something needed, wanted, or expected —used with of2: bereaved--a bereft mother.

I dreamt
That I carried a child within me--
I felt
As a natural pool must feel,
Curving my-self around the life that I held.

I knew how the tree feels
In its innermost ring--
And I knew that the sky and the Animating Presence
Had surely spared me
A single, precious Star.

There is Happiness,
And then there is Joy--
Joy filled me
And asked for its name.

I held my belly in grateful hands
And held out my Love, saying take it, it's Yours--
But I could not hold the dream.

There is Pain,
And then there is something beyond it;
I learnt this in the hollow morning
When my single Star
Moved beyond my skin and beyond my reach

Monday, April 20, 2009

3 Short Poems


Sunday brought her lips to Host,
That saving flesh reveals;
But Monday was a cruel cook
To serve such bitter meals.


She posed a question with her flesh
As if she were the Patroness
Of love that's not replying;
A sting will burn but rarely kill--
She finds the honey sweeter still
When bees are faint and dying.


I invited you in, and would again--
Like an eager fool--like this--
Too hypnotized
To recognise
Your almond-tasting kiss.


Sunday, April 19, 2009

My Mash Note To The RCMP

The RCMP is notified

Of serious crimes

In northern climes.

Saskatchewan just isn't there--

RCMP suspects

Grizzly bears.

Ottawa is sorely vexed--

What's up out west?

Is Manitoba next?

Toronto has run out of maple leafs--

Alberta's low on

Indian chiefs.

Montreal has a certain je ne sais quoi--

And is being held hostage

By Patrick Roy.

To Newfoundland, RCMP is sent

To find out where

That half hour went,

And also to work on a spate of crimes

Originating in

The maritimes.

Oh Canada, home and native land,


Always gets their man.

Mounties in black boots and uniforms red,

Any chance you'd pursue

This woman instead?


Friday, April 17, 2009

Gemini Down

Little girl in the grocery store

Cuter than a peach

On a checkered cloth

In a basket,

Can't find her Mom.

Canned peas loom.

Aisles stretch into infinity.

Strangers bustle by, ten feet tall and steelier than automobiles.

This is when the heart constricts

The skin prickles, and

Tears flow.

Standing at the end of the row,

I can see that Mom is only

One aisle away

Pricing cake mix

For a treat later.

But to that little girl,

She may as well have been

Teleported to the Kamchatkan Peninsula,

Or launched on a space probe,

Shrinking tinier by the nanosecond,

Never to be heard from again.

To me, Mom looks kind,

Her hair is soft,

Her arms sweet solace,

And her voice something that I remember from happiness that I lost.

Love may be

One aisle over,

And love may lie

On a frozen moon of Jupiter...

This is when my heart constricts,

My skin prickles, and

Tears begin to flow.

I sink down on the dirty checkered floor

Of the Food Land store,

Throw my head back and howl,

And everyone,

Even the lost little girl,

Stop what they're doing

To stare.


Monday, April 13, 2009

Roadside Stand

A roadside stand

Was selling clouds like ears of corn--

You could shake out real angels

Or deliver yourself into one like post.

"Tell me your deepest desire," a voice said.

I surprised myself by answering, "I want to be a barn cat.

I would have startling eyes, good sharp claws and wild desires,

And yet,

I would be as beautiful as lazy and belong to no one."

When the stand shut down,

Clouds turning purple in the west,

I switched my tail and asked the angels,

"Is there no one who could love me?

Why must I always be alone?"

Departing, they replied,

"Little barn cat,

You are loved by open spaces and the night;

That is sufficient unto thee."

My deepest desire gained,

I waited for morning and the chance it would bring

To exercise my passionate unreasoning instinct

To kill anything with wings.


Love Poem

Here, put on this stone coat.

Walk with me.

Even if you were warm before, it will leave you shivering

And it is heavy

With plenty of pockets stuffed with regret, deception and train tickets.

Here, wrap it tight.

The seams are made of a sleety wind--

Let it whip your bones

And that paltry cup of brown leaves you call a heart.

Let's hold hands, like links in a good stout chain.

There is a starving bear on the other end,

Sick of tricks

And drooling over us twin dolls, presented like meat cookies

On a flat blind tray.

Or should we try to stay alive in naked embrace?

Clear the snow away and kiss me.

Rub ice on my blacking toes,

Shout to me through the pack ice,

I will toss flowers to you from my airless tomb beneath the floe.

I confess that I long for the warm hour in summer,

When I had coffee and my

Little ridiculous pennant

To mark the top of the world.

But it's no good, nothing will burn out here,

Not even your old love letters,

Which I should have eaten when I could--

Though they make fine cudgels now.

So come freeze with me.

Finger your old lovers' skulls like a rosary

And stuff candy promises into the open fractures;

Oh Love, it's wonderful,

We're together and I feel less and less,

They say in the end the letting go is easy--

We'll be like babies

Falling asleep under our mobile of silly debris

Airborne in the sharp stark indifference of our solitary deaths in the storm.

linked for Poetry Jam, Nov. 2011 "Paradise Lost"

Saturday, April 11, 2009

A Fable About Oysters

*June 30th, 1985, Michael Phelps born in Maryland, USA.

*2008 Summer Olympic Games, Michael Phelps wins eight gold medals in swimming. Many endorsements follow.

*A short time after the Olympic Games, Phelps appears on a video, smoking marijuana from a hookah pipe or similar apparatus. Some endorsement deals are cancelled.

*July, 2009. Michael Phelps is linked romantically with singer Amy Winehouse. A tumultuous tabloid affair ensues.

*August, 2009. Michael Phelps and Amy Winehouse split.

*August 2009. Michael Phelps regrets the tattoo he got last month.

*September, 2009. Michael Phelps appears on Celebrity Jeopardy!, loses.

*November, 2009, Michael Phelps releases a tell-all book. Sales are marginal, but the pages are waterproof.

*December, 2009. Michael Phelps receives another DUI, loses license.

*December 2009. Michael Phelps crashes his moped on Christmas eve, killing a squirrel. PETA stages a protest march and Phelps receives death threats.

*January 2010. In an attempt to revive his flagging celebrity, Phelps appears on a tv game show called "Fibbin' Amphibians!" Ratings are poor.

*March 2010. Swims upstream, spawns.

*November, 2010. Phelps attempts a movie career, accepting the lead in a film entitled "Creature From The Black Lagoon 2011." He wears a lumpy green costume and nearly drowns during filming when it is discovered that the suit is absorbent, causing the wearer to sink like a stone when submerged. Amy Winehouse also has a small part in CFTBL2011.

*Sued by PETA, Phelps finds himself in financial difficulty. He takes a job selling High Times door to door to make ends meet.

*2011-2012--Phelps drifts in and out of rehab and assorted affairs with series of troubled blond pop singers.

*October 15th, 2013. Phelps' body is discovered in a Motel Six in Paterson, New Jersey, having drowned in the bath tub. The maid is quoted as saying, "He looked kind of familiar."

*October 2nd, 2014. Moses Lang, a rookie for the New York Mets, becomes the first MLB player to hit .400 since Ted Williams in 1941, turning in a nifty .407 batting average. The world is his oyster.


Friday, April 10, 2009


Great White sharks are naturally gentle as lambs.

They long to be painters, dancers, poets--

But, at the bottom of the sea, there are no art supply stores.

No academies.

No Barnes & Noble.

"Another fucking sunken galleon," they grumble, moods turning sour.

Their great fins are useless for holding brushes,

And watercolors?

Oh very funny.

Some Great Whites dream of being ballerinas,

And hate their ridiculous, colossal bodies.

"My beret keeps falling off," complains one shark.

"I would cut off my ear, but I can't find it!" laments another.

Naturally temperamental and sensitive to begin with,

All of this frustration leaves the sharks at less than their best.

Driven mad at her inability to shoulder her violin,

A musically-inclined White


And eats it instead.

Swimmer, if you should blunder near,

Kicking stupidly and churning the waters below,

You will break the sharks' creative concentration,

And, perhaps,

Their hearts.

When they come to play,

Don't dismiss the single delicate fin.

Don't misread their mood.

Don't believe the simple spreading grin.

They are artists.

They are not your friend.


Thursday, April 9, 2009

An Embarassment Of Riches

oOo! I have been given not one, but TWO blogging awards! The first is the coveted Zombie Chicken Award from Shadow. Did I mention that I love Shadow and her poetry? Well, I do.

Here are the rules for this award, and you KNOW i am all about rules:

the blogger who receives this award believes in the tao of the zombie chicken - excellence, grace and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. these amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. as a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all…

I nominate Scarlet, Sharkbutt, Riot Kitty, K, and Lil Bit. Do it if ya like. Don't if ya don't.

(the picture with the hearts should be HERE. But, because I am an idiot, it isn't. It's up top.)

Also, Mama Zen has graced me with a Friends award. Have I mentioned that I love Mama Zen and her blog? Well, I do.

In turn, I nominate Pouty Lips and Daryl. Again, pass it on if it pleases, don't if it doesn't. But I love you all.


Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Bitter At All Winged Creatures

Bitter at all winged creatures,

I want to board up the sky;

Expunge the ones

Who dare to fly.

Then die.


Sunday, April 5, 2009

Glass Girl

(written by request, for T.)

Beautiful glass girl, refracting the light from other sources

Admired, carefully cared for,

Protected and turned by other hands

To an angle and an attitude that pleases.

Glass Girl, full of grace

Who are you when there's no one there?

And why do you dance all night

Frozen in place

The image of whatever ornament is needed?

And despite all the pleasing and smiling,

There came a day when you were taken from your delicate case and hocked

Leaner times

And sticker shock

Made beauty an extravagance, a red-headed stepchild to necessity.

Practicality the killer of


After all the sheltering hands that had known you,

Bless the gypsy who stole you

And discovered your body was not of glass but of ice.

Water has motion

And current can carry or conduct;

Steam obscures or warms

So when magic meets magician

It is the marks who gasp and refract

Like so many jewels on a rope.

There is a reason

The three fates are women.

They led you back home

To your admirers again.

But this time, when the music began,

When they smilingly reached to pose you

With their presumptuous hands,

They received the violent beauty of lightning instead.

No longer a glass girl

Posed on a stand

You call down the storm

With a diamond's command.


Saturday, April 4, 2009

Stone Angels

Blame Daryl for this one. ;-)

Stone angels

Fall out of Heaven,

Landing in church courtyards

And people's gardens.

Some come down in cemeteries,

But are quickly stolen.

Stone angels

May appear serene,

But their thoughts are jangled:

"My nose itches, but I can't scratch it!"

"Here comes that dog again!"

"I'm one step removed from garden gnome. Oy."

When they flutter their wings,

Gardeners and priests end up in casts

And flight is out of the question.

They cannot ride bicycles.

They are poor joggers.

They have trouble getting warm on cloudy days.

The stone angels

Don't get picked for badminton

But they have beautiful souls

And, like small children and honest lovers,

They can describe the Divine

In an easy and familiar way.


Friday, April 3, 2009

Oh, Lambchop

Why did you let me get bored?

You know how I get

When the time just starts to drip drip drip

You know how I get

So why

Oh Lambchop, if you loved me, why did you blow it

End the world as we know it

Why did you let me get bored?

Your city in flame

Looks fine to me

It got so quiet when the sun set

Just knocking around the sub-let

And I got bored

You left the matches here

And they whispered in my ear

Oh Lambchop, forgive me, sometimes I just can't help myself

And you know how I get.

There is a reason law enforcement

Never gets my endorsement

So many rules

Who can remember them all?

Mother, teacher

Uncle, preacher

All told me, girl, you're headed for a fall

Oh please

Oh Lambchop, I really mean it this time

Please say

You'll stay

I never meant to do that stuff at all

But I got bored

And you know how I get

If I haven't done it

That just means I haven't done it yet

I don't like watching Dr. Phil

And housework makes me ill

I get bored

And then,

Oh Lambchop, I swear, I don't remember doing any of those things

But oh the sweet

Relief it brings

I would never leave you, not on a whim, not on a bet

But I get bored

And you know how I get.