Mother Rock, I sit solidly on the porch
as the May wind blows the lanterns.
I am the family stone, I hold this space
while the children's lives soldier on
to the fields of hearts, where swords and shields
penetrate and cover, where new blood is drawn.

I am finally finished playing at war.
My position is still, as the wind washes past my solid form.
This day moves all around me,
washing me away, eroding with each brush of breeze,
my blue jeans fade in sunshine,
my gray hair streaks, as it lingers to my shoulders.

Too much happiness is like an illness
that you lie in bed for waiting until it
leaves your body.

Just as you are laughing, cracking up,
closing your eyes and throwing your head back,
you get well again. And stop laughing.

I couldn't imagine a lifetime of being sick
with happiness. I've never been sick for
more than a week. My immune system
is far too strong.

a mother's joy is
not to watch the child grow,
but watch them grow old.

I can't figure it out, but I am forever planning an escape
2. or a solution to this problem of going nowhere
3. in life you have to risk safety in order to find
4. an oasis hidden in the visions.

1. Or a solution to this problem of going nowhere
2. will in perpetuity evade your grip
3. An oasis hidden in the visions
4. of calicoed men, quilted with jacquard and eastern tapestries.

1.Will in perpetuity evade your grip
2. from your lack of complexity
3. of calicoed men, quilted with jacquard and eastern tapestries,
4. tangled between silken limbs.

1. From your lack of complexity,
2.  I can't figure it out, but I am forever planning an escape
3. tangled between silken limbs.
4.  In life you have to risk safety in order to find.

There is a tide,
I need a conversation,
my language is empty
because I have no one to talk with.

In order for life and art to flourish,
there must be nourishment,
food given through moments of lust,
passion, devotion, desire, and hope.

My people have abandoned this
moment in time, found color in famous shops
and deserted poverty.

An ache
high pitched like a headache
tapping the roof of my mouth
as weeping tightens the skin around my bloodshot eyes.

two years this time
of moons falling, suns rising
morning kisses and making love
trying to learn again, like virgins
or bad lovers.

lying again, knowing
each time he thanked me on his way home
like a ***** he'd paid,
there would be an end.

left again. unchosen again.
desperate again.

isolated
solitary
deserted
abandoned
forsaken
forlorn
friendless
­desolate
solo
singly
solus
only
hermit
unaccompanied
detached
lon­esome
unmarried
unassisted
stag
apart
destitute