A backwards life

Everything is backwards. 

It breaks my heart.

My life is upside down.

I am so busy and preoccupied

With my ultimate goal

And my son looks for my attention

Getting in my face 

during important phone calls

Or while I am applying for 

A job or an apartment 

But I am trying to 

Get things done

Achieve a goal

So I put my hand in his face 

When I am on the phone

I tell him "No"

I cannot watch him

Do that trick

Or dance that dance

I am too busy

But I see the future.

I am desperate 

For my boy's attention

I want him to look at me

spend time with me

Maybe play a game of charades 

Or maybe watch a movie

But he is on the phone 

With his girlfriend 

Or a college admission office

And he is putting his hand 

up in my face

Telling me to go away

That he is to busy

And he is trying 

To accomplish something 

It will break my heart

All over again

Right now, I want 

Nothing more

Than to no longer be

Too busy 

Consumed by my goal

And to just be able to 

Not ever put my hand

In his face and tell him no

I just want to tell him 

Yes

And live right now.

Nothing is permanent

Maybe the trickiest thing 

is that I have magic 

flowing through my fingertips

yet every day

My magic is letting me down

my spells are backfiring

I recently considered 

what if...

I just stop casting?

maybe the magic 

in my spells

would finally take affect?

maybe I should just

blow out the candles

stop drawing my dreams

and just be still.

wait.

Maybe I am casting too much

and my power is getting drained

out of my fingertips

My spells are drying up

My spirit is parched

I am casting and casting 

and casting for change

for a better day

I could tell you

why it is just so hard

So hard to continue 

Trying to make a difference

When

so much seems permanent at the time

Pilose

Anna Margaret Harris

Born on July first 

1987

A sweet little thing 

She was soft 

With a bit of light 

Fuzz 

Covered her body 

A soft swirl 

Of delicate hair 

On her back 

The sweetest 

Softest 

Fuzz on the tips 

Of her ears 

She was covered 

In hair 

Especially soft hair 

The sweetest, softest 

Baby 

She was furry 

Pilose adj

Covered with hair, especially soft hair; furry

I Imagine a home

I imagine 

A sweet little house

With just enough space

It has a cozy fireplace 

The cat basks in the warm

There is a comfy chair 

That I can knit in

And the laundry room

Will have nothing on top of the dryer 

There is a small front porch

Just big enough for a swing

And it has hanging plants

And chimes blowing in the wind

A yard just big enough

For a climbing tree

And maybe a tire swing

With a nice dog

Plenty of flowers

There is a space for 

a vegetable garden

And some magical herbs

A handy wheelbarrow 

And a mucky compost pile

A car of my own

That is good in the winter

And a garage for parking

A studio for creating 

All forms of art

My pottery wheel

And a kiln

I teach art classes

To elementary and middle school 

At a school nearby

And classes out of my studio

To all ages of young people

The neighbors are nice

We visit sometimes

Maybe barbecue occasionally 

Or roast marshmallows 

In the backyard fire pit

I have time to spend with my son

He goes to a good school

And has nice friends

My son is involved in

A physical activity

Like karate, soccer, or gymnastics

He has musical studies in his life

Piano, drums, or maybe guitar 

We trick or treat on Halloween

we have creative costumes

Creatively carved pumpkins

Sit on our porch 

We go camping from time

With dancing and chanting

In the moonlight

We live a safe stable life

And we are happy

Needs

Breathe
Relax
Release the stress
A Yoga class
Meditate
Breathe
Create
Pottery, prints, paint
Art
Of any kind
Breathe
Live
Peacefully
In my own
HOME

A Vow

I choose 

You

As you are

Perfectly imperfect 

I choose 

You

In the morning

Before coffee

I choose 

You

With that awful smell

I choose 

You

Even with a tissue

In your nose

I choose

You

With all your issues

With your temper

Your anger and pain

I choose 

You

Who grinds

Your teeth at night

I choose

You

When money is tight

I choose 

You

Wrong or right

I choose 

You

And to you 

I will be true

 

Seeds

When I was a little girl 

eating my mud pies, my

bamboo twisted dream

shoots the moon

remember dangling from

the apple trees

man, we had no fear of

who we would become

planted in the grass with

them toes in the dirt

Choose emptiness

You can't insult anyone and expect them not to hurt.

You can't laugh at me and with me at the same time.

You can't say you care when your actions don't follow.

You can't see the love in another's heart when your own heart is hollow.

You can't judge without being judged. 

You can receive forgiveness while holding a grudge.

You can't draw boundaries for others when you cross them all yourself.

You can't love others when you don't love yourself.

You can't take away another's freedom without imprisoning yourself.

You can't give expecting gratitude.

You can't have peace unless you change your attitude.

You can't cry out for peace with blood on your hands.

You can't have two worlds in your hands.

Choose emptiness.

I give up

Age lets you abandon things. Today I give up self loathings.

Feelings of inadequacy, for what I am not offering.

Shame, for improper ways of responding to things that are most challenging.

Tomorrow brings better things.

Lady Bugs

Every year there is a season

When they come by the masses

It is a strange and beautiful thing

I watch where I step 

When I cross the threshold 

So not to harm a single one

Tiny red angelic insects

Make me feel a little bit blessed

Hard little bodies and delicate wings

Tickle my fingertips 

And released into the garden

Such funny little things

Inspire my creativity

Fly away

Off to the sun

Right now.

Ungrateful about my future.

It is such a big hassle.

Because it is so uncertain.

And what about my love?

He deserves so much better,

Much more than I am offering.

He should be a little king

Of his own little castle.

Ungrateful about my future.

Because the fiture I am offering

Is not suitable enough for him.

Who brings joy to my life,

Every day and night.

Ungrateful about my future

Because I am terrified,

That I won't do it right

And some how,

I am plagued so much by my future

That I am missing right now.

Pluvial death

They came by the millions,

And we drove up the mountain

Along the twisted roads that night,

And with little effort, we killed them.

The dark and pluvial conditions

Drew them out by the masses.

It was a sad irony for them.

Emerging from the saturated Earth.

They were just trying to breathe 

And get a little peace.

On their great journey 

Back to the place of their birth,

For a great amphibian orgy.

And one by one

They croaked.

Horrible things

Not when he swears

Not when he spits

Not when he hits

Not when he throws fits

Those are not horrible things

But when his tears flow

Down his sweet little cheeks

And I hear him speak 

Those horrible words

"I am a bad boy and I always do bad things."

That is the most horrible thing.

Blood Moon

Blood Moon

Total lunar eclipse 

April 15, 2014 3:43am

Some powerful magic 

I need to get some sleep

Maybe I can cast some spells in my dreams....

How to stop being broken

Step outside into the sun

Kneel down onto the Earth

Wrap your hands around dried up shriveled old dead plants

Pull, rip and tear

Clear the away the old

Make way for the new

Put your hands in the dirt

Feel the cool moisture

And the soft texture

Use your hands 

and dig a shallow hole

Scoop the dirt out 

And push it aside

Notice the dirt under your fingernails

Take wildflower seeds

Pour them into your palm

Run your fingers through 

Feel the grainy texture

Sprinkle the seeds 

Into the hole you dug

Sit

Breathe

Let yourself go

The pain swell

Let your tears flow

Let them drop 

One by one

Fall onto the seeds

Breathe

Believe

You will be whole again

Fill the hole with dirt again

Give the Earth a gentle pat

As if it is your baby 

That you are tucking in at night

You are that baby

Rest

You are blessed

You are a wildflower 

You will dance in the sun

This fucking poem hurts

PAIN 

Ache

Sore muscles

Coffee with no sugar

Sugar

Hey Sugar

that's MY bar-stool

Get the fuck off my bar-stool

This lake is man made

It's creation nearly

decimated the Grouse

Decimated

They blamed the Ravens

For their claws and 

their swift wing-beat

But they were hungry

Now they are killing the Ravens

Before the snow comes

The fucking snow

The wolves returned to their homeland

And they killed them too

Those magestic creatures

Shot, ambled away

Bloodied

The ancestors of the armadillo

are rabbit and turtle

Rabbit raped turtle 

Raped

Mother Earth

Ravaged land

Addicted to fossil fuel

Fuck fossil fuel

Pour me another shot

Hate has an expiration date

Sea Monkeys are worthless 

The lowest of the low

Don't swim in my pool

Don't drink my water

Don't let them grow

Let them shrivel up

Let them burn

In the fire

Dry out

Expire 

Hate Sea Monkeys.

Hate 

Has an expiration date.

We don't believe, we only fear

At the edge of a precupice 

With no parachute 

No net 

Wanting to fly

We don't believe, we only fear

It's not my fault

In Certain Relationships brooding is mandatory

Because you knew better

Or at least you should have

Payed attention

Instead of ignoring the obvious

The truth is hard

And ugly

Removed from the troubles of every dayife.

Aware that her passing is eminent

the family gathers,

Removed from the troubles of everyday life.

Cherishing each moment.

Brothers hover over their culinary delights.

Cousins buzz around the spaces.

She gazes upon the faces 

of her two daughters.

Each in their way, her own reflections

Mother hurries to her,

Needing to be sure of her comfort.

There is agony,

 in my grandmother's heart.

Each day, each moment,

is precious from the start.

I find myself gazing at my aunt,

Memorizing her face,

Each line, the color of her eyes,

Shape of her smile and her brow

She is with us now.

So now, we share meals, pose for photos, and embrace often, 

Never missing a chance 

to express our affections.

Grasping at any chance 

to steal away moments with her.

To hold her hand, see her smile, 

and hear her voice.

Later that evening,

A room is filled with laughter 

over a lively game of charades.

Feeling drained, she retreats.

She wants to stay, 

but she hasn't a choice.

Here. Now.

Here I am holding this,

Little boy in green zipped up froggy jamas.

Who wants to nursy,

And just wiped away my kiss.

Tells me he loves me, and Lava girl

As I serve them both macaroni.

I am informed that Hercules used to be a spider, but now he's a boy.

Hercules is strong, and so is he.

They both are good boys.

Especially mine

Who just got a coin for his be-good piggy, "Shineya."

He tells me stories of Shark boy and Lava girl and how he saved the day.

My little super hero

Who wants a piggy back ride.

And as we mark his growth 

On the back of the door

He announces that he is growing fast

I want to slow down time

 

Rhythm and Bleat

If it hadn't been for the bones 

we passed around the circle that night

Fire crackled and flared by the cliff side 

The little gypsy girl pointed to the sky

It was shooting star

Quietly, I sang a tune, alone

Sitting cross legged, Bo gave a sigh

His fingers gently plucked the guitar

The mother began to hum

Just lowly at first, and then high

Treetop swayed 

and a flute began to play

Chris's hand slapped onto the skin

A repetitive thump and swish

Of palm, fingers and thumb

Little gypsy danced, arms in the air, 

Skipping, wind in her hair

I took a deep breath

And the voices joined in

The rhythm of the drumbeat quickened

Our song was loud

There was a sound in the distance

Then in silence we listened

What was that strange sound

It wasn't a howl or a bark

No bird made that noise

Slowly and quietly, we began again.

A chant and a whistle, a song and a hum

circled around cracking flame and spark

Gradually, our voices raised 

to the beat of a drum

Then again in the distance,

from somewhere down in the revene

That sound we heard earlier 

from deep in the dark 

surrounded by aspens 

It wasn't an owl or even a wolf

That responded to the music 

of our campfire scene 

It wasn't a hoot or a howl 

but more of a grunt and a bleat

That joined in to our song 

at the crescendo of the drum beat

Each time we heard it 

in silence we'd listen 

What animal it was, we never could tell

Because the response to our silence,

Was silence as well.