Magical Thinking

“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” ~ Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

The lies that rocked my cradle

— Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy,

whiskey fumes and smoldering

cigarettes steadied me

to choke on the paint fumes of history.

Every week a proper dunking

in the murky waters

of Sunday School propaganda.

I came up spluttering,

nauseous, hearing

my mother exclaim

“incredible” as erratic stories

parade as news. 

New fabrications

teeter on this house of cards

that could flatten

at the slightest breath

of far-fetched truth,

summoned from the deep

dismantled

decolonialized

unpatriarchal wilderness

that still, improbably, lives.

Inspired by: Incredible, Erratic

Who’s that lady?

 

I am that nondescript neighbor

walking the dog everyone knows.

Nobody recognizes us

as we stroll

under the cerulean sky,

our tender hearts hidden,

our passions reined

by our mindful deliberate pace.

 

Inspired by: nondescript, neighbor, tender, cerulean

Ghostwriting

 

The longings that a person feels when alive, which remain fixed in his heart, come to mind at the moment of death. ~ Jnaneshwar in Graceful Exits, How Great Beings Die 

Predawn cacophony 

struggles win this time.

In the dark, I’m grudgingly

dressed, writing through 

a thunderstorm and grumbling

intestines. So tired.

I’ve been pondering

how to die well;

I still feel her reaching out

on her frantic

deathbed, like a vicious swipe

from a bear’s claws — 

years of focused hatred

led her right to me, and finally

she made an impact.

 Oh, how my head aches.

Listen to this belly grouching.

I’m present for all of this agony,

chaotic crumbling of an

invisible ancestral pattern, 

bringing it to the light.

Even though my candle today

can barely pierce this murky 

air and the flame

is flickering, I’m holding it up.

I’m holding it high to summon

dark spirits. Show yourselves.

Dance to these

drums you’ve been beating

in me.  Even as the rising

sun reaches through the thick

cloud cover, I’m straining

to hear your muffled voices.

**

So grateful for all of the dark words today: GhostAgony, Grudging, Cacophony, Summon

What’s Worth Defending

You had to stand in line to hate him. – Hedda Hopper

Once upon a time, I would have dissolved

into helpless tears much later, encircled 

only by my mistreated ancestors.

Today I can’t find my boarding

pass as I join the queue and 

I’m beyond vexed, searching

through meaningless bits of paper

while the crowd jostles and 

presses until I whirl in fury.

“Do NOT press that against me!”

And the entire line shocked

into silence turns in rabid

fascination to listen to his mumbled,

“I didn’t mean to make you

uncomfortable,” which I reject

in my most — I mean, I gotta say,

freaking fantastic 

modern embodiment of Pele —

lethal voice everyone cranes to hear,

“I’ll knee you so hard that tomorrow

you’ll still wish you didn’t

have that cock.”  And I catch

the eye of a huge man

in front of me who is so 

here for me, and gesture

grandly, “Please go ahead

of me, try pushing your

self against him.” 

And to the sidestepping

pervert — I mean, literally protecting 

himself now with arms crossed 

and lowered, I hiss, “I have three

brothers, don’t think I won’t.”

And there are women with their

husbands who are shocked,

but others clap slowly

and firmly, declaring themselves

resources, sisters-in-arms

who have fought this battle

so I go back to my search,

heart pounding and so damn alive,

knowing they have my back.

 

Inspired by: DissolveEncircleVex, Modern

 

Celebrating The Unseen

It’s clear that we must put our morals and the valuing of women ahead of party loyalty.  When someone does something wrong, you have to speak up and be counted. ~ Kirsten Gillibrand

He suggested that I conduct

an investigation into the past 

week and select a difficulty

that I still lingered over.

So I looked below the surface

thoughts of us versus them,

my right and his wrong.

I carried the conversation

in my gut like indigestible

food.  That niggling feeling

of unease gripped in my throat

unspoken.  The thoughts circling

in repetitive patterns,

nothing new here, trapped energy

with gates slammed and locked

while I take photos of the intricate

chains’ shadows.  How can I live

like I belong?  The hidden dictates

of my family, my community, my culture are

blinders, an outright blackout curtain.

How can I look behind them

into the invisible framework?

Not judging, just seeing

what emerges.  Each time I declare

what is wrong, I get trapped

into that sense of separation

so essential for the survival

of my tribe.  Locked in the defense

of the most fundamental lies:

We are different.  I am better.

And this global voice suddenly

available, the consequences as glaring

as the imperative to construct

a new paradigm.  The one-ness.

When I feed you, I feed us all.

Choosing carefully the ingredients:

each thought, each emotion, 

each physical sensation, 

all the unseen things

the sustenance of my new

unfolding planet.  And that’s

why I blocked Trump on Twitter.

Inspired by: Unseen Things, Linger, Below, Investigation