Thursday, August 5, 2021

Friends of P.

A little over two years ago I had the wild experience of falling head over heels for a man outside my marriage. It brought up a lot of uncomfortable feelings because of the depth of connection this person and I discovered. I had a lot of therapy at the time, and used writing as a way to process my feelings about it. I took a poetry class from a Jungian poet, in which these poems just flowed from my consciousness. I feel like I want to share them because I think they capture the essence of the summer of '69, but 50 years later! I had written a little bit of erotica before that in the form of my first novel, which fewer than two dozen people have read (to my knowledge). I previewed it here for NaNoWrimo in 2018, and then took it down while I figure out what to do with it. For some reason I am surrounded by erotica writers, so I guess that helps me feel more comfortable sharing these things. I am a human being, and these are things I really felt and experienced.




I imagine our bodies together

As a topological problem

Solvable only in space time

Problems of rings, fingers and seeds

For this world, but not the next

Passion is borne like wild chipmunks

And triplet sevens

We come together and apart



If I ran for President

It would be on a platform of rest

I would give corporations tax breaks

For moving to a four day workweek

And the government would do so, too

Because it seems to me

The origin of toxic masculinity in this country

Was in Jamestown

When an enterprising group of unitasking men

Established a mindless colony

Near brackish water

To send money back

To a monarch

Who saw their bones as fodder for his empire

And nearly all of them died

The first winter

Except the ones who weren’t too shy

To eat the others

Off the record

If I ran for President

It would be on a platform of rest

The descendants of these men

And the ones they conquered

Would get to own 1/7th more of their breath

Giving them more oxygen

To nourish their gasping, struggling

Lungs and hearts

One more day to love

One more day to appreciate

The people and things for which they believe they toil

Giving them time to stay strong

To fight illness

And greed

And corruption in their own minds

Off the record

If I ran for President

It would be on a platform of rest

It would give the caregivers

Regardless of gender orientation

A day to care for themselves

A day to sleep in

A day to let the dishes sit

A day to enjoy their dogs and cats

A day to find that thing that was missing

A day to enjoy silence

A day to remember why life was once worth living

A day to notice

A day to dream

A day to connect

With themselves

Off the record

If I ran for President

It would be on a platform of rest

It would give the children

Time to question

Rather than be questioned

It would give them time to learn

That life doesn’t have to be a giant

Structured competition

It would give them time

To color outside the lines

And make silly videos

And run

And laugh

And yell

And learn to love themselves

So they can love others

Off the record

If I ran for President

It would be on a platform of rest

It would give the precious Earth

One less day of auto emissions

And packaged food

One less day of documentation

Of manufacturing

Of consumption

A day for planting

A day for exchanging

Carbon dioxide for oxygen

A day for birdsong

And flowers

And trees

Just one day

Off the record

If I ran for President





Weed whacker

Weed whacker

You're thinking about

The wrong kind of weed

Sagan and I

Never disagreed

Wrong kind of

Mars rover



Blowouts Space-X

Blow this joint

Google Search




Sense is no more

There is only breath





What do you do

When everyone around you

Is suffering so

And the things they

Deal with daily

Just to earn the air to breathe

Are a waste of life




Everyone is jumping

Everyone is jumping

Together while

Just a few swing the rope

Those kids for their own fun

Change the rules

Just because

Why not

It's so fun to see us jump

And do our funny

Little tricks

We'll postpone this

Add a form to that

And move up that due date

Because hockey stick graphs

Rely on bone meal

So make lots of love

So we can make lots of war

Here soldier

It's your turn

To hold the rope



You bring the air

    Or inner space

    In this world

    Or the next

    Or tomorrow or yesterday

    Or maybe even Friday

I hear that’s when you’re in love

Hey, maybe while we’re at it

    Working for something

    Bigger than US

    (But honestly, what’s

    Bigger than US?)

            We could augment the

            Amount of work

            And play

            Ideally making our play

                    Our work

            Or for those who are still

                    Finding their bliss

            Giving them time to

                    Do so

            Because like that girl

                    In Sweden (?)


                    Friday should be

                    For love

                    And co-creation

                    Is love

    Because that, like I said

            Is why we’re here

                    To love and be loved

                            In hallways

                            And closets

                            And texts

                            And hotels

                            And on the street

                            And in the boardroom

                            And around the dinner table

                    We are love

    Pulling the sun across the sky

        Is easier

        With your help

        Dear Brother

    They say that brevity

        Is the soul of wit

        But I have lost

        My ego



Why give away something

    You’ll never get in return?

            These words haunt me

            As I hold my

            Four Pentacles

            The ones I was so eager

            To part with

            Just a few months ago

            As I poured my cups


            All over the ground

    You asked, earnestly

            Standing there

            Bodies and backpacks

            Sliding down the hall


            The pain etched on your

            Swelling heart

    And in that moment

            I knew that you knew

            From the cracks

            Filled with gold

    That there is magic

            In selflessness

            But did you?

            Maybe not in that instant

            Beaten down by

                    Paper grading

                    Traumatized students


                    Property sales

                    Missed embraces

                    Soul threatening

                            To check out


                            Nobody to

                            Hold it in with you

                            To give you clean water

                            As you poured yours

                            On the floor, too

                            I watched it

                            Flow past

                            My new white sneakers

                                    Keeping them clean

                                    Is impractical

                                    In this world    

    Something - me or we

    Scared you into retreat

            With this much light

            Would come the dark

            Which we had yet

            To master

    Just like a lizard

            Scurries under a

            Cool rock

            To avoid


            From the sun

And I understand, because

    Making gold involves

    Aching swollen eyeballs

            Snot on my trembling upper lip

            Drawing tarot more

            Than twice a week

                    Which is apparently

                    The energetic


                    Of whoring myself

                    For the figment

                    Of a perfect memory

But Kronos, I tell you

        It was all worth it

        To show you

        That your black matrix

                    Makes lizards

                    Who rule the world

                    With their

                    Cell phones in the 80’s

                    Second homes

                    Obsession with safety

                            In numbers

                            Theft from the future

                            And hatred

                            Of pansies like me

        Hockey stick graphs

                The shape perfect

                For whipping you

                Into worshipping

                        With your breath

                        And days

                        False idols

                To justify existence

And these are dangerous words, they say

    Mustard seeds

            They urge me

            They worry of the demiurg

            They say I’ll unwittingly release it

            But have I in just typing this?

            Or was it Zuckerburg

            Sophia is naughty

                    But not the Vegas kind

                            Just the Vegas goddess kind

                            Burning by the pool in

                            A bikini

                            Finding her inner Isis

                            She’s a terrible

                            Secret keeper

                    You should know this by now

                    I miss you

    Even though or especially because I am a portal

            To the eighth dimension

            And a little bit of a


                    Eating up symbols






            You said 52 weeks to

                    The eighth dimension

            But only a woman like me

                    Can blow your mind

                    In just 8 weeks

                    Like this

                    But time is your illusion

                    Dear Brother

    I commune with the dead

            Protected by the spirit of

                    My Grandmother Kerouac

                            Who drank herself to death

                            Cases of vodka

                            Replacing the herb

                            That grew

                            Between friends

                            When she was my age


                            The OG Spacecat

                    And Gabriel or a Space Alien

                    Does it matter

                            If I believe?

                            No says my therapist

                            A perfect mirror

                            Sent by my guides

            Shown the truth at fourteen

                    After a bicycle accident

                    Just a rock in the road

                            At 10th and Madison

                            On my way to a

                            Soccer game

                            With my girlfriend

                            The one who messed

                                    Around in the closet

                                    With me and first showed

                                    Me about portals

                            How fitting that

                            The preacher’s daughter

                            Would show me God

                                    With her fingers

                                    And mine

                                    Making friendship pins

                                    And selling them

                                    To the downtown


                                    As they exited the bus

                            And not the preacher


    Hey, last night was great

            Neptune and I

                    Bodies entangled for the

                    Umpteeth time

                    So much pain

                    In 25 years we’re

                            Almost entirely gold

                    Still learning new things

                            About what Divine Union

                            Really means

                            Finding it in tenderness

                                    In caress

                                    Rather than

                                    Red marks

                                    And shoulder injuris

                   Finding delight in my voice

                            Now returned

                            The sound

                            He also yearned for

    Amplifying love by meditating

            In bliss

            Surrounded by tantric spirit

            Seems like you got there


            But I felt your

            Velvet touch underground

            On my alabaster curves

    I never got around to reading Passages

            Much to the disappointment

                    Of my writer friends

            Books give me their secrets

            In stolen moments when

            I come in gratitude

                    In short sweet drips

            You were right

                    The answers were

                            Inside not outside

                    The whole time

                    Released with a little

                            Absinthe or weed

                            Breath and bliss

                            Time with the cosmos


    And so, when you told me

            You weren’t that smart

            I knew that was bullshit

                    Because humility is the

                    Ultimate wisdom

                    And I see how

                    Compliments make you


                            As an oyster

                            Holding your pearl


                            A Philosopher’s Stone

                Because we conflated


                        Slowing down

                        Appreciating our bodies

                                Through sight in light and dark

                                Sound and silence

                                Scent in crevices and bottles

                                Touch of smooth and coarse

                                Taste of salty and sweet

                        With the black hole of narcissism

                                Which threatens to pull us

                                Into the void again

    But yeah it’s all about validation

            Like you said

            And I knew like you knew

                Spreading light comes

                From finding it within

                        Through patience

                                With mindless chaos

                        And solitude

                                Amongst the screams

                        And gratitude

                                For the subtle

                And that validation

                Comes from carefully

                        And gratefully

                Noticing all the ways

                We are loved by

                The Universe’s

                        Dirty imperfection

    Dear Brother

            Please understand that

            Your matrix is not bad

            It’s just that it should be

            To serve us

            Rather than enslave us

            Because we are


    Meet me in outer space

            I’ll bring the water



I want to believe

That there is a place where the

        Earth meets the sky

Will you meet me there?



Like a therapy ball

        Held down in the deep end

        I am released

        -Team Barbara





My black dog has three heads   

    Each tipping an ear upward

    Awaiting my

    Every word and deed

            Water, walk, food

    Alas none of them ever

    Share their thoughts on the matter

    Be they thirsty, eager, hungry,

            Alone, isolated, empty

    But I can tell they like what they get

    From their constant proximity

            The whooshing wags

            The rumble of snoring

    But I’d be a fool

            To believe they wouldn’t

            Follow the scent

            Of someone else’s


Neptune laps up water like there’s not enough rain

    I fill his bowl

            From a big plastic pitcher

            Splashing as he watches

            Barely feigning patience

    But he is parched like

    The sun burnt it out of him

            Like he was locked out

            In mid-August

            When the A/C was broken anyway

    And the ocean itself

            Though it has threatened to take us

            Miles and miles

            Without air

            To the bottom

    Wouldn’t suffice

Hades needs constant walking

    Whether the pavement is hot

            Our feet blistered

            Sweat stinging my eyes

            His tongue lolling

    Or covered in slick ice

            Our toes frozen

            My glasses fogged

            Nose hairs become little switches

    No matter how long the walk

            Down the busy road

            To the store

            Or up the well worn trail

            Toward the summit

    He’s always ready again


    The weather is no matter

Zeus thinks constantly of food

    Never satisfied

            Does he know it’s gourmet?

            Does he know how much I pay?

            Maybe, but who knows

            It all comes out the same

    Always wanting more

            Maybe with some eggs this time

           Or broth

            And definitely bones

            Or whatever he can reach on the counter

Why I chose this dog I don’t know

    My parents thought he was a great idea

    He growls at me in the night

            When his old joints ache

            And he’s not in the mood

            To be anywhere but bed

    Unless I give him treats

            And just the promise

            Is enough to get him

            Whinging with joy

    It’s only by the light of day

            When the squirrels

            Taunt him on the fence

            And the neighbor dogs call

    He wags

    What’s left of his tail

Maybe I keep him because

    I don’t know how to be without him

    In the void