A Letter Written - to - a Stranger - in Hopes to Know You - Connections ~

~I have difficulty believing -
traits are born -
detached - I struggle to see -
yet - strangely -
I've been becoming -
more of a believer -
maybe by the time I'm 80 -
I'll arrive -
slowly blooming -
you know - some do -
I had an aunt at 40+ something -
that went back to school -
she was a writer -
a singer who couldn't sing a note - rather a croak -
the point? - "she did it" -
I was so dang proud of her -
proud - as a teenage young girl -
that I had such an eccentric aunt -
even then - and imagine teenage-hood -
I felt this pride at the unusual -
this gal -?
a favorite -
"the" favorite -
boy oh boy - I could write the prose of long limbed line -
of my relations -
like paint a tree - of branches -
then each twig, leaf, creak ....
would be another one -
fantastic -
a little awkward - to write down such things -
for the living -
along with dead ones -
may be listening -

~Now, what runs through - handed down - pumping blue
at times, I'm - overloaded -
 - this pulse that is - my personal vein -
have I spoken to you - of interesting neurology ...?
I think I've mentioned -
why on earth do you think I've connected with you -
this normal, subtle - woman sitting -
reaching out like screaming - ...me.

~ and then ......I think of another - relative - (ha! ~ be warned! ~ I'm full - I carry - specks of off-shoot stories ...)
a character - much older -
like an older uncle - yet my cousin -
a high and mighty brainy fellow -
he loved to rouge his cheek and saunter -
round the airport dressed - a flaunting damsel -
he told me once -
a promise given -
to his mother -
that he would quit -
hanging out - soliciting
near the escalator -
kinda felt for him
he missed it.

A family can be looked at - as strange -
small town gossip - from (the) brains, tight, uncomfortable with <others> and their difference -
one brother - told me - one day -
when I had grown to a teen age year -
with a mind of my own  - in a sort of way -
like beginning - to move - a little distance from - the only that I'd known -
he said - do you not know of the strange that we are ...?
I said nothing - for some time - listened - his perception -
realizing that it was mine - (I take too much from others - making this my own - I wonder - what is me ...?)
when you hold these things (all of us), these thoughts in mind -
not speaking - explanations -
you don't realize -
how true you feel -
until you speak -
...I had held my depth of feelings -
always inside -
pretty good at it still -
but to hear his words -
comparing -
they stunned -
reality -
I remember wishing - again a child - so I could hide -

And saying this -
we are a family -
like many - on street - that pass you by -
the variations -

in that group of farmers -
that wandered, struggled, worked their fingers bare to blood bone -
I'm sure of it -
there is no denying -
that many - that toiled
had stunning minds -
strange and loopy -
twists that they would hide -
the poet, the art, the way they plowed a field -
the way of their seeing -
kept inside -
some may have come home to a table of dinner -
and spoken to their wives -
some - held, like struggle
became pain -
for lack of release -
how they saw the season -
the falling leaf -
the repetition -
how the soil tumbled -
line after line -
row after row -
this soil - the tiny particles -
held high upon a point of pushing -
one grain to and toward another -
to make a peek, of sorts - a row
and still -
the soil tumbles -

Van Gogh saw it in the night skies - swirls -
so have I -
intensely when I'd eaten magic mushrooms -
my thumbprint - (it was my own) vibrated in the black sky
so very much like the northern lights of aurora borealis - that throb
every way I turned my vision -
the pulse continued -
looking down at my own index -
chubby digit thumbs are clumsy -
oh - but no - so beautiful -
and yeah, I get it - I was high -
but still appearing  -  yes, still -
this round and round -
a spiral moving -
relations -
like that dream - reoccurring
as a nightmare -
as a child -
(Ohhhhhhhhhh - I could really go off on that one!  That dream! -
I have two sons - both resemble me and they are their selves completely -
one - used to - and I believe still - has/had this same configuration of a night sweat dream -
he used to tell me - I shivered at the memory - I wished complete protection - for I am a mother - in this way -
how could I let him whimper - dreaming this - terrible rotation -
it comes rarely - like death - but you keep living - feeling suffocation - really, it's quite crummy -
I used to jump out of my bed - as a little girl - and this movement was a big deal -
for if you could only understand - the danger - that lies beneath - a bed -
you'd know that little gal was mighty serious - to do such action - with bare feet - only a gown - revealing, long tender stretch of naked leg -
jump - hardly enough a distance - to escape -
in hopes to shake the drone - of scare - dreams, frightening  -
yet she braved -
through this half awake - state - that took stomp - back and forth of tromp -
like passion to shake her brain, to shake her brain - clear -
it took great length of hall and lonely room time - and all the time, in fear - which? - which one was the greater - danger here- ?
~ Oh - no comparison - I'd give my ankles - blood let them seep to stain that floor -
for that darkness of the spiral reaching heights of no existence - night sky - round and round - giant drum -
slow motion thrum of - don't know - what it was -
numbers do not go that high - if I were to try - and yes - this dream was tempting -
as if on purpose - tease - "do this - do this" - but I knew this - would be death - of something - that was me -
this information was as clear - much of what made up the fear - who was this beating me?
~ ~ ~ was this worse than the jump from the bed ...?
For if he were awake - that green and toothy alligator - residing neath her bed -
~ Ha! don't laugh there buddy!!! he was mighty real - in that mind - biting at her heels -
and this - where does it come from - ?
~if a child feels -
truly safe -
no damage to their tender -
would they live a childhood free -
from alligator -
or -
rotating dreams - ????


Do you see that I am using you -
for practicing -
to lack my lonely -
for this is far above alone -
to stand - telling - pieces - of who I am -


One someone - out there - this fellow, told me pleasure -
he spoke - of words -
my writing -
not many - only two now - have said such complementing  .....that I do -
could it be - that another - could understand this rhythm spill - like telling - parts - that scatter - as I try, like strain - to gain - a notion of collection - ?
no ones every told me -
this manner of seduction - endearing, critique - I stood so proudly -

now wait a minute -

Now this is not the truth -
my mother did -
my mother now is dead -
I loved that gal -
one of those angels -
wings must have hid -
under something -
what was she wearing ...?
she said -
"C" - you are a writer -
I rolled my eyes -
she was my mother -

Long gone -
I wish she could see -
my sons -
I wish she could listen -
read -
the words I've said - I've written - sung -
even the stronger ones - thoughts of cruel -
she'd maybe cry -
but some old women -
they've kept growing -
she was one -
accepting my unique
being it herself -
and dealing - staying - with a husband -
as far as out - as one far out could handle -
and he, also - I loved -
we all -
a family -
hand in hand -
are still staggering strangely, proudly -
glorious off spring -
people do go on - rotating -
they make babies -
that walk the same - partial steps - in sort - resemble -
~some - in the view of others -
strange -
and they are some of the handsomest ones -
bright -
beautiful creatures -
beautifully creative -
music makers -
painters -
lovers -
mix of quiet - and the word not stopping -
I'm proud -
years went by of shame -
I am my fathers daughter -
my mothers eyes - her hands stuck - permanent - at the ends of my arms - visible as I reach -
the longer my years - the closer the look -
and boy, I can tell you it's strange and it's lovely -
I'm only beginning -
I wish for a smooth face
for I'm only beginning
and just think -
if once again beautiful
the world twould be mine -
and this kind of a circle -
is nuts
cause -
it keeps on repeating
I'd think the same thing
ten, more years, ten more
at discovery
oh - if only - was I young ~ ~ ~

I sat for a moment - still -
thinking what I would write to you next -
I'm a funny one -
you tell me such niceties -
dang - nobody does that -
I think -
here alone -
I am little -
others have told me -
<big deal> -
I come home -
I think - I am little
meaning - not really much of anything -
it's learned - you see -
are you up on the psychology -
of repetition -
in a family ...?

~there I go again - ....so sorry :>)
my circles - they are round -
I'll start over what I was saying - ?

I began - ...wanting to respond to your letter -
and here I begin with my telling and telling -
it's common -
it's kinda the way it wells, rising, falling - forth -
I am speaking -

You flatter me
and I wonder -
how to do such a thing - ?
publish - in partial -
no clue.

sometimes I think I need an editor - quite sure -
is that the right word?
-do you know an editor -
for those stuck in closets?

I have a talent for - more than one thing -
I sing -
with saying that -
I'm revealing -
and you I do not know you -
yet you -
so like me - ........kinda ~  :>)
came to this page -
you could be like me in - let's say - -
safely -
but I happen to know this of me -
and you do not know me - so how could you know -
and I do not know you
and how could I ?
either of us ...?

And was I -
heading toward,  - making a point?
I think so.
Let me think?
hmmmmmmmmmm?

On yes - my talent -
you know -
I've known for years - "unique" -
when I used to sing -
a pin dropped -
quietly -
like heard around the world - crash -
even the drunk guys in the back -
listening -
the Harley rowdies - in my youth
they cheered -
grinned at me -
(very polite guys)
when you stand up on a stage -
you stand apart - in a sense
yet others come toward believing - that they know you -
close to you -
and this I love - in return - caressing strangers -
I need the space - I need the closeness -
and mostly, you see -
I yearn to sing -
to write a song and sing -
~ again and again -
I am a stammer in life
inertia -
stuck -
it's this lack of organization
stacks of stacks of stacks - my mind -
so much so - that I do not move forward -
but for someone -
for me -
to let someone
see me -
in a way -
like read my words - then listening -
I feel that I can breathe -
my chest loosens -
a little more ''me'' -
when I am seen.

A while back - I spoke of a closet.

The stage -
I'm shy off of - yet no nervous overwhelming - stepping up to -
rush? yes - like adrenaline pumping -
this is normal -
gets one going -
then when there -
upstanding - instead of hiding -
I feel - .....?
dang - I don't know - ....<comfortable> I guess - ?
like I'm me -
yet watching -
~ I sing -
this is what I'm meant to be - - -
when I was younger
I sang the funky stage of Austin town -
all around -
oh yes, we were the funky of back then -
I was a little hippie girl -
still am -
tho you can't see -
I'm covered up with years -
evolved - I guess
different pieces -
again - I sense rotation - spirals -
like the clothing that I wore back then -
the young girls - they are wearing them  -
again -
so fun to see -
....do you see - ?  that i am simply talking -
tapping on these keys - ?
I'd better knock it off -
try - - - to fall - toward resting -
there is this nite owl -
vastly - part of me -
that has a brain -
that cannot simply go to sleep ~
tap, tap - rotation - this stream of constant - visitation -
like a circle from a depth - some kind of belly loom -
inside giant room - full -
in hopes -
if only to stand in front of you -
a throat, a tongue - a movement, toward -
an opening -
sings - escaping ~
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


A Red Door = A Heavy Laden Velvet Curtain, Spots, Raw, Worn - Soaked in Incense ~

"As a child, I often wondered what lay beyond the red tarnished door."
But I would turn away - I never got that far - (not understanding - I could have been a hero)
for the falling - it was constant -
in my dreams - or from concentration -
they threatened - you see - every Sunday - and on Wednesdays -
the endless pain of Purgatory -
little tiny girls - hold hands of little tiny boys -
he was my brother -
and he - and my brother younger -
were my best friends -
the closest piece of me - my memory - of a family

He - was stuck there -
I never knew
as if an alter was a blessing
he was a lucky one,
~red doors are wet with slime
they hide insane minds
and clammy hands
they were much too soft
the memory of them - gives me the creeps
his toothy smile - was a lie
he was a pasty wicked man
to take such things -

No - I never got there
but nasty ricochets slid off to hit me
for chains, like domino's - they clatter
in the back room - you could barely hear
they slap down,  hitting families
and little girls - are targets
and little boys - confused
they grow up
wishing for forgiveness
instead - the image in their heads
like the angel that was naked
in the picture book
I read in bed
endless falling -
little children learning - of purgatory -

-shame, shame now - don't you lie -
lessons -
taught by devils - (demons)

he's dead - gone -   
invalid -                               
         
-years passed -

-and how is it - as in burning?
do you crawl - ?

From the lessons that I learned -
you - deserve more -
than simply falling -
for flame is hell -
a crusty charcoal shell -
-first hand experience -
do clammy hands warm up ~ ?   (in hell?  ...)
 
in the palm of a devil -

who – on every Friday -

told the little children -
-shame, shame - now - don't you lie -


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    More Silence -

A First Time Writing Group - They Asked Me - "How Do I" ......?

I write best -
when locked in a room
I write on scraps of paper
towels, again paper
I tear large sections
I dig for pens
collections of them
in the top drawer
with the q-tips
and the combs -

The others -
locked out -
have no idea
of my level of hiding  
of the ways of my writing -
they, locked out
allow me space
and I take it -
as if in giant gulps -
I have this hunger -

small rooms -
with nothing much -
to do - to get to -
my writing happens
I'm captured -
it's like a prison -
I never want to leave -
in panic - I can't get out -

Mostly in the mornings
oh, if I could only have the mornings
letting them run - into the afternoons
I could spend them
till the evening
it's getting dark now
I began to hear the froggy croaks
there's one owl
may be more
up near the woods
outside my window -

I've been writing frantic now,
for hours -
the door has no lock
the wooden kind that slides
into the wall
and disappearing
some how - they know
to not disturb -
sometimes, I think -
they worry -

I write for hours - I worry -

If I were a queen
I'd have a house by the lake -
and one on a cliff
above the roll of pounding sea
I'd have small rooms -
within this mansion
with sliding doors - wooden
becoming larger walls
surrounding -
they'd be the most important -
the nooks and crannies
of a castle
placed on the side
with large windows, jealous windows, rock throwing windows ~
that view from high above
unlocked, small rooms -
I'd have a view -

I turn the music on -
the moment I enter - the room
the door slides closed
this tune is rather loud
taking over
keeping the outside - out
pounding against, and pounding against -
like a ricochet bounce
the back and forth -
from wall to skin - a rhythm - trance

From a first note
I hear the words -
in panic -
again forgotten
that ever lost
paper book of notes -
left outside the sliding door
lost to me -
I can't leave 'now!'
for they're beginning -
I grab for the roll
of paper wound round,
a pen - much too dry
I'm desperate ~

I ''won't'' leave
till this thought is written
it's the best, first thought
like each morning, has one
if I leave
or think of another thought
all will be lost
and that, kind of curve
brakes my heart -

My children are so special -
they're leaving -

I cannot loose - my words.

I kissed them goodnight -
slowly - turned off the lights
there was no door -
so, -I didn't close it
I spoke to myself
much of the time
back then -
my boys, young
small - my babies -
even then,
I carried pens
and wrote on tiny scraps of paper
and yes, the words came often
but mostly -
I spoke them

When I did write
they were jumbled
if seen by others
purely scraps, nonsense - garbage
I left, like horded nuts -
trails, scattered - as if lost -
I could turn, to pick up - finding -
but - so much clutter -
late at night - confusing - so
I spoke them.

It's taken quite some time
to write them down
like in an order -
when I began to write
to Tami -
many lines would please her
when I would re-read
I was appalled
at the confusion
she was a special one
who could see - beyond
the blur -
almost like
in between the lines -
she said I was a wonder
I sure do miss her -
we all move on -

So Artis, for one year
then Tami
and now Carl ~
my every now and then friend
we text
in lines - our feelings
sometimes -
simple rhymes -
can straighten moods -
when life is harder
when the shell begins to crack -
slipping out - all but ooze
passing our words -
back and forth -
it's a friendship - of a sort
I feel relief
by such connections
if not for them
I would be lonely
beyond my standing here alone -
for that is what
I am -

More each day
with plates shifting
I feel the grind
against my brain
slide -

I'm getting ready
I've been in fear
for the brand new days
of growing older -
more alone
than before - I began

I had thought I could learn of closeness
my ideas - too radical

so - I pick up liquid pens
begin the sketch that - is my thinking
scratching - then long sliding
I come around to new beginnings ~

I met these young men -
the also carry inky pens -
and many tattered pages
they speak to me -
understanding the importance -
of writing down - a word ~

A Night Out ~

Many things I am -
I surprise people -
I have this hunker part frozen -
much too long - staying this way -
the wall of my inertia has no door -
long time passes ......

~one day -
it always happens -
there comes a key -
I wander out -
tight chest -
I need a push, a pull -
seems there's always one -
one day -
like I'd mentioned -
eventually happening -

so finally -
I arrive -
standing upon a stage -
this cage is open -
singing, intimate - details -
countless, crowded - tons -
spilling -
I tell -
these many things that I am -
I love a stranger -
their contact, coming closer -
I flip -
separate - on guard -
-again, a twist -
naked -
full out -
you'd think they'd see my bones -
the way I open -
turn -
they do not know me -
change -
I want them to -
curve, slap ~
now don't you touch me -
I give them more -
they cheer me on -
they think they know me -
I'm glowing -
~balderdash, this alteration -
disassociation -
wake up at home -
to begin the repetition -
same -
I am a circle -
but then,
we all are -
begin again -
look for the key -
here I go -
I left it somewhere -
...remembering -
the shape, the feeling ~

Solar Eclipse

What is it that I think of -
with the coming of the shady shadow -
covering the moon ~ ?

My answer is "My Children"  ~
I see them, a vision of the past -
we would wait for such things -
in anticipation -

young men, grown -
I flash to images of youth, wide eyes - expanding minds -

That's it - what I think of  ~ 'kids, memories, family - time spent together' -
speaking of all the endless possibilities -
not behind four walls - or only following - the human written word -
rather -  watching - looking out - seeing ~
the movement of reality -
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    Silence -

Writer's Block: Fashion Forward

What would one be wearing - twenty years beyond - is a first question - a first day - as I I sit to figure, in confusion of a page - where shall I click with beginning? - a new member of - Live Journal - I say I am a writer - in my blood, this way - show to me the others - where are they? (are there some that write 'this' way ...?)
The first thing to appear - on this screen - is asking me a question - tho - in a hurry - I sit back - saying, 'wait' - place fingers on the keys - only a moment - I won't be late - if only one thing, I'll keep to - only ''one thing'' (ha! - if you knew me, you'd be laughing!)
I'll begin ....telling first thoughts .....


What would one be wearing - 20 years beyond?

So many things have changed -
stores to buy - stacked one atop another -
elevators by the dozen -
rushing -
I feel like wearing green today -
something fresh - yet sultry ....
I choose this store -
for I've always been into natural fabrics -
They're selling ~


An armload -
I try only one -
can't move past this first one -
takes a breath away -
I am growing older -
I feel quite young -
I'll take it!


The way a fabric drapes,
a color, a certain texture -
something, when with a shift in movement  -
stirs -
appears a scent -
as well as feelings -
a willow green, smells of the wind, on a fresh spring day -
slightly warm  - yet slivered -
with strings of coolness, felt across the skin -
as if truly standing under -
one willow -
exposed -
bare -
not a stitch on  - a mind spins ~
I'm standing in this small room -
with only willows - and the wind.

It leaves one with a grin -
to walk out into the busy -
franchise of the madness
competition
~You - wearing such an object -
are naked -
tingles from the way the breeze will whip and sting -
the branch - light, thin - full of long soft reed-like - leaf -
stir memories of that one night
of rapture -
how many years ago?
the long strands in his hands -
the moments after -

walking forward
it's at your back
concentration - to keep a knee strong -
straight walk -
If another would have such a dress -
she would know in an instant
the journey -
that I'm on -
and only $48.95 -
the bargain of my life ~

Next month -
I'm choosing - red.
-