Broken Glass

Art is
Broken glass
Cast into turbulent seas
In time
Washed ashore
Polished and refined
It forms the sands
Upon which we lie
Drifting away
In warm silence
Lost in the cacophony
Of our own dreams

My Song

Younger than my age.
Not safe for work.
Articulate, sometimes.
Liberal, always.
I pulled a u-haul behind my jeep and I moved in, with myself.
BIG sailboats out of the sight of land.
Jeep in a Baja MX desert way out of sight of man.
Wreck diving the Philippines.
Sleeping bag under the stars in the bed of a good friend’s pickup.
The National Gallery all day long.
No words in my songs.
Oil paint on a white skirt.
Motor oil on everything but the engine I rebuilt.
Teddy bear named BooBoo in my bed.
Four pillows for my legs, arms and head.
Laughing until I cry.
A few more hours I almost died.
Best friend I met in Sweden.
West Coast you are my Eden.
The beach, ocean and stars above.
20 pounds lost after 20 years the same.
Labels do no justice to the person I am.
Two lives lived, I have loved lost and am…
Complex and confident.
I never kissed a man.
Accepting the variety of us all.
But my own worst enemy when I fall.
Not a Rose but an Orchid or maybe just star.
Falling from the skies, I am stardust as are we all.
Friend, daughter, aunt, cousin but never a mom.
I am an artist, musician, nerd and this is my song.

Young captain, this aging ship.

When the mind and the body are in two different worlds, one seeks the other never meeting in between. Young is my heart and playful the mind. Drawn to youth and racing away the same. Foolhardy feelings lend to adventures and unsettling moments. Bold, gentle steps into the open I go. Many lives lived and many more to go. Young is my heart and creative my mind. Never satisfied with the present, my past left behind. I’ll build a great castle with walls crumbling down. See me. Feel me. I am none of deaf, dumb or blind. But touch me deep where only the mind may roam. One woman, one heart, many journeys must I live. Young is my heart and determined my mind. Let me not fall into old. Graceful steps. Frightening leaps. I venture forward. Youth chasing dreams. Aging vessel chasing time.

Flying and Falling

I took to the sky
Imaginary wings beating into the void of space
Earth rises to meet my gaze
Tumbling uncontrolled it vanishes once again
Am I falling to my death
Am I only floundering every direction up
Horizons roll into view
Brightest points of light chipping away blue crescents
I think for a moment
How beautiful are the simplest things

The darkness becomes the light
Flying and falling again and again


Build my life upon these dreams
Comforts and cozies fill my thoughts
Returning to a place familiar and warm
Memories of achievement and joy
Love, yes love felt and expressed

The lie roles off my tongue like marbles on hill
Expressed yes, but not love
Comforts are facades hiding what lies behind
Dreams are more easily dashed than delivered
My achievement is this empty shell

Medicated my heart beats at a safer pace
Medicated the knife never draws blood
Medicated sleep without dreaming is peace
Medicated darkness is not so cold
Medicated is no life to be wished on anyone

Suicidal thoughts, Can anything be more frightening
How do you take a life without the mess
How do you take a life without hurting everyone you love
You cannot
I will not

Survival is a skill perfected by years of practice
Battles lost and won in my mind
The physical toll evidence in the lines on my face
The blanks stares, the tears and distant presence
The unseen damaged liver and once failed kidneys

Everything hurts some days, everything
The deepest pain is beyond human touch
Why do I keep fighting against this unwelcoming tied
I just do, a promise to myself and my loves
The hardest part of fighting the emptiness…

There is nothing there to take a swing at

Perception of Time

I looked into the sun and sneezed as my eyes watered and my face felt warm deep into my skull. A 5 year old really does not know any better. Mom held my hand as I cried, blood still fresh on my arm and my clothes. The doctor tried to ease the pain, but the cut was deep to the bone. A 10 year old and a new pocket knife are the first of many hard lessons one can only learn and not be taught.

As I looked out over the ocean towards a distant horizon, I became smaller as the world grew in size around me. The sun set and darkness fell upon the moonless waters. My hands disappeared before me. Startled by unfamiliar sounds and the roar of crashing waves, I sought refuge and safety within. Eyes closed, only the wind leaves tactile traces of the outside world. A waking dream. Floating on the ocean in a boat of own my making. At thirty one only begins to comprehend the scope of the universe and her place on Earth.

The time in between is perceived in growing increments of ever faster moving time. At 48 I remember seeing that 5 year old standing on the side of the road, her gaze always upwards. I remember the sun, the blood and the pain, laughter, love, the open ocean 100 miles from shore and a lifetime of living with spectacular highs and crushing lows. I look back and see that little girl is me and she is still looking to the sky and out in to the distance as the journey unfolds.


We come into this world full of piss and vinegar ready to take on the world, full of great ideas, able to do anything. Innocence is a beautiful thing still as yet uncorrupted. Then the world sees our zeal for life and pisses on us. Years later we sour, become jaded and realize we can’t really do a GD thing to change anything. Yeah we can affect our immediate world and even ourselves, but it never really catches hold.

Midlife comes and everybody who is not a friend sucks ass, does stupid stuff and screws the rest of the world in general. Not yet defeated we keep putting on the good face and try to go with the flow in some way. By the time we are intelligent and wise enough to understand the world and maybe have the idea that could truly change the world, we are to old to give a damn. The world forgets us and we leave this world. Our dying wish: I hope my kids and grandkids can have it better… make it better.

Maybe it’s time for an evolutionary change. Let our young children rule the world with the oldest generation as their guide. The rest of us between the age of of 13 and 70 are not allowed to touch anything. We are only along for the ride until we can behave.

The Well

the well so deep, yesterday
not so much today
your love
your friendship
my guide
my strength
to fill the pit beneath me

light is like words
encouraging yet thin
but your hand
it breaks the stone
it clears the path

these wells that form
deep under foot
bored out by our own hands
when standing still too long
when night destroys the day
where life soon cools
and slowly turns to stone

alone in the well
it fills with atrophy and shame
the slightest push
the faintest shove
the stone it cannot form
we fill it in again
and hope momentum
carves a path instead

to my love
your are
the wind