Calico Dreams

A tranquil dream of days and days again

silence wrapped around pensive memories

a quiet lyrical intent

soft contented cat sleeps oblivious and sated

floating dreamily through missed opportunities and perfect moments

easy dreams and restful days

even whipping boys and heavy bodied oxen take the day

to rest and breathe and live simply for the joy of living

to gather strength and see the day though heavy lidded peaceful eyes

bide the time and seize the day to feel the sun and love the rain

sunset smiles and peaceful nights

to fuel a brief repose

Road Trip

Flying down the highway, wind in my hair

Halfway between where we’re going and where we’ve been

A Harley Sportster leads the way

solidarity of intent connecting him to our sleek candy apple red convertible

Two hours of freedom as we tear past forests and tattoo parlors

Perhaps the road loves him and shares in our delight as he hugs another curve

And hunkers down to light a smoke

Or growls at the latest mini van to hold him back

With it’s soccer attending pre-teens and PTA moms

Going 5 miles below the speed limit and breaking on the down slopes

The universe seems to only encompass the three of us

As we slide between cattle farms and greasy spoons

Two hours of peace on a lovely August afternoon

A perfect day for a ride

Like Humming

23 million reasons why this moment exists seperately from all  the rest. Your dreams have always known me, you run your fingers along my spine as a reminder to your self of all the things you swore you wouldn’t do this time. Visceral quest love. Dreams that dream again. I tried to warn you love. tried to draw lines and limits along our dreaming.  With hands and body, face hidden in the warm tender hollow of my throat. You bite back. So stoic, patient.  i could list for you all the reasons this is a bad idea, categorized into groups of three, lists of broken hearts, broken dreams, and misplaced trust. you know the song and hum along. warm throaty laugh against the coolness of my skin.  never say a thing love. so quiet in the eye of your storm. things that need not be said whisper behind your eyes. always dreaming, leading, knowingly,  gently, so gently…

yes oh yes

Boxing the Cat

faith

when did you lose faith in humanity
he asks
pretending to care
hands held in perfect imitation of sympathetic birds

caustic motorcycle laugh
years of angry dispossession
the brassy tingle of his most sincere empathy
fingertips and artistic inclinations
ask impatiently to be let in

to lay down his weary head for awhile
forget their universal betrayal for an hour or a year
burn fresh and redemptive
in the soft forgiving resilience of your skin

A Moment of Weakness

I  (one)

Music so loud my ears bleed.  only way i can keep your desperation at bay. Shut out your angular chaos, hold you off with a tidal wave of sound.

“I’m gonna get free. I’m gonna get free. Right into the sun”

I can’t believe you can’t smell the blood. Flail, scratch, and bare your teeth at one another.  feral feral …/fucking slut whispered endless recriminations, mercury eyed and acid spitting

“She never loved  me. She never loved me. Why should anyone?”

Monkey chatter and senseless screaming,  please heed my hollow platitudes, your shallow eyes and lying hands obliterate…create…destroy

II (two)

feed on my devotion
breathe my devotion
i exist
the only sign of your devotion

Pleading

13 million seconds lapse between myself and my purpose
almost 3 days spent wrenched inside out
guts ripped and torn, bleeding
sickness infects my eyes, nose, and mouth
roils in my stomach, my intestine
dark, sticky, desperate pain in my bones
explosive foamy rejection

“please”

hush now child, they’re to far away to hear.
you’re to late
you must bear it
you will always bear it

Fire

Tonight smoke hung in the air, pale and ominous. I searched every corner of my small bit of space for the source. Nothing, no smoke pouring out of any hidden corners of my house or property. Good, my children are safe then. still I wish i knew where that fire was. keep away. please keep away. I’m afraid now. I wonder if I will always be afraid.

Forever ingrained in my memory, the image of my toddler in front of a curtain of flames. Oh my God. Grab the baby, oh Hell did I dislocate his shoulder? Better injured than burning. Get Lucien. God Dammit Lucien hold still! Please let me get a hold of you. Blurred escape, less clarity and more movement. Both children, here with me. Out, but no mom. Where is mom?

I go back for her, of course. Calculating in my head how far it could have spread in one minute, maybe two. I’m back and she’s made it so much worse . My ill equipped for life,  foolish mother is beating the fire with bedding, a pillow maybe. Piles of burning things… the pillow case flies out of her hands on fire. The curtains are gone now. The fucking ceiling fan is on fire. Fuck. Behind her, the antique dresser she is so proud of burns. (She got that for 50 dollars at the blind store, she loves it, so sad that it’s dying)

“Mom what the Fuck are you doing?!? Come on, your spreading the fire. Come on!”

She looks through me wild eyed. crying. semi crazed.

The pictures turn black and curl in slow motion… in the blink of an eye.

“I have to put it out Selissa. I have to put it out. It’s my fault. I have to put it out.”

Her entire left side is smoke stained black, except for the blistered and bleeding open wounds, those are all very red.

“Goddammit Mom, no! you can’t. it’s too far gone. COME ON!”

I grab her wrist and pull hard. I’m stronger than her, this should be easy, but it isn’t. Panic stricken, fighting me. She’s always wanted to die. She might just get her way today.

“No I can put it out. It’s all my stuff….” whimpering. lost

Now the steamer trunk is burning, her closet. Fuck. it’s spreading so fast. This is it.Please mama. Please.

I pull her harder this time leveraging my entire weight against her hysteria.

“GODDAMIT YOU SELFISH BITCH. I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR STUFF. YOU CAN GET MORE STUFF. YOU WILL FUCKING DIE IN HERE IF YOU DO NOT COME ON!!!!!!!”

I know in this moment, with total clarity, i will leave her here to die so my children will have a mother. Such heroism, I am ashamed but unwavering.

Please mama. Just, please. Three more seconds. I will give you three more seconds but that fire is getting so close to the door…

pull

1…

pull

2…

pull

3…

There, no more resistance.Thank God. Run now, you have her. we’re all outside. we’re all ok.

we’re all ok

A Prayer in Three Parts

Low passive evenings  filled with music and small children. Gentle eyed, exuberant babies. Inquisitive smiles, firmly set determined legs.
Prim immoderate cats. Soft fleshy bellies resting on fat feline feet.

don’t struggle my love
no need to gasp and scream and fight
please don’t cry

the days stretch long and complacent in the shadow of spring’s last victory. Days yawn slowly into night. Night fades back into day.
Soft shapeless afternoons tumbling into one another. just settle down to rest awhile

This is Your Life

Business of the future, pure industry, capitalistic joy, kings of technology, lovers of children and puppies. Official owners of one Selissa LaSalle, they have my deed. They keep it in a safe next to boxes of broken dreams and abandoned ambition.

Today someone i see everyday and don’t know at all rushed up to me, gesticulating wildly.

“the server is down! nothing works!” he wheezed, pointing in a confused fashion at the large plate glass, bullet proof, suicide preventing windows.

the oppressive silence i’d not quite assimilated suddenly becomes more clear. Like lab rats with no more buttons to push, distracting themselves from their own confinement, silently frantic office workers pace the limits of their now undeniable cage. rushing around whispering in urgent tones or standing staring at the ceiling as if this break in routine might be an omen of world ending proportions. waiting for the sky to open up, revelations to play on angelic trumpets, and large grey hands to pluck them out of their boring lives and deliver them to their final judgement. Desperate, like headless chickens, all frantic movement and nerve reaction, no meaning though. no intent.

Me. Smug. Predator’s smile, no panic
…wild…feral… beast girl…
huntress queen eating the brains of my conquered enemies and stalking tigers. My superiority glows incandescent.
I could destroy them all while they desperately thumb ctrl alt delete yet again.

Hmmmmmmm I should check my Facebook.

oh damn they sucked me in

These are the times i’d run for the Abyss. Run so fast it peels the taint of their shallow little lives right off me. Fuck under the stars, in the rain. drink dark beer and froofy pink drinks with strange girls in strange cities.

Now would be the time to remind myself why they’re afraid of me in the first place. why even caged they chuckle nervously, never sure what i might do. placating and eyes darting.

now would be the time except for two small chidren with pink cheeks and my eyes. questing curious hands pet gentle circles on my palms.

I love you mama.

I love you too sweetness

and i do. and i do. and i wouldnt undo them even if i could

there is dark humor in finally not being afraid, in being all chaos, passion and kinetic energy. Being written for beat poetry, chaos mathmatics, and GO GO GO….but here i am stuck in martha stewart living

oh irony you vicious bitch, kiss me and smooth away my frustration. the jagged edges of my own jaded mistrust wear at me. the strength i feel everyday battering against my self appointed stasis

the strain of standing still
i was never very good at being so still

A Sudden Clarity

I have a theory about the Great American Experience and it involves green beans. I have walked across miles of American territory, followed the tar stink streets and cracked sidewalks of so many days. I have seen many things in many places…i have lived and dreamed and died…

Yes children, i have lived. ….and now they have green beans. This all seems ill fated, the sound of fat laughing midwestern children drenched with dark and ominous meaning.  it is time for me to rest my sweetlings. Surely there is nothing left to discover, no leaves left unturned, no dark side streets unexplored, no new exotic foods to try, or blue eyed girls to taste… in a world that offers green beans over the counter.
just like that.
with fish.

the sadness of this moment, these greenbeans, is overwhelming or would be if i weren’t laughing. the pressure of thousands of years of evolution sifted and purifed into green beans is more humor than i can bare. Don’t worry jesus we arent wasting your sacrifice. We have green beans, individually served, moderatly priced, and they come with fish. we are prepared.

oh yes. we are all prepared