September 21, 2003

1. In 1981 I was an eskimo & Wile E Coyote.
2. A punkin’ who stood proud & naked
3. In a forty-six inch plastic pool.
4. Five years later I was eight years old.
5. And losing a mother.

6. I have a beautiful, beautiful story to tell.
7. Laced with miracles, messes, promises, prophecy &
8. The type of healing acquired by faith.
9. I am the daughter of a believer.
10. Of a Pentecostal preacher.
11. Who found salvation while holding
12. a .357 Magnum to his head
13. while my brother & I slept.
14. Years later, that same man picked up a crow bar
15. pried steel, tugged & fought & fought
16. because my body was inside a blue neon, broken
17. and I just wanted him to hold my hand.

18. There are pieces of my life I won’t let myself remember.
19. And if, by chance, I submit to memory
20. Late at night, when my mind races
21. One pale blue toilet bowl keeps me company
22. While it holds my insides
23. & i cry at it’s feet.

24. The core of me is filled with guilt & regret.
25. Because, although I am quick to forgive others
26. I rarely ever forgive myself.
27. Instead, I replay scenarios in my head.
28. Constantly wondering, ‘would this have turned out differently if i had only…’
29. I have trouble accepting that things are how they are.
30. That my experience can’t be altered.
31. I have trouble letting go.
32. Giving up.
33. Giving in.
34. I have always been the underdog.
35. And a fighter.
36. Tonight I jumped guardrails, faced traffic
37. to take black & white photographs
38. of road signs that mean something to me.
39. I’m afraid that one day, everything I love will be gone.
40. So I document this life
41. as best as I can
42. with pictures & words & color
43. because twenty years from now I may not have the boy
44. But I will have a photograph of the field
45. we walked through, holding hands
46. after discarding our clothes in the barn
47. and propositioning each other in Irish accents
48. the night I lost my virginity.

49. Twenty years from now I may not remember
50. how good it was to be twenty-five
51. drunk with my best friend
52. in Wal-Mart buying duct tape & plastic
53. because we smashed a convertible window
54. and need to cover it at 3:00 in the morning
55. before rain sets in.

56. Or how hard it is to be twenty-five
57. And watching everyone around me give birth
58. heat oatmeal, raise families, while i
59. struggle with the concept of love and wonder
60. what went wrong
61. what happened
62. is it foolish to believe
63. in an ee type of love
64. in my grandparent’s type of love
65. in a type of love where
66. sixty-three years isn’t long enough
67. to love one man.

68. I admit I don’t know anything.
69. That I watched a boy I loved
70. devour his dreams, develop tics, give his everything away.
71. I watched his skin slowly fade
72. And thought that my love might be enough.
73. I wanted to save him.
74. I wanted to heal his little boy traumas.
75. I wanted to heal his memory of fists & blood & never being good enough.
76. I wanted the little battered girl inside of me to mend him.
77. I wanted to mend myself.
78. And he just wanted to forget.

79. I once thought that I would live my entire life bearing the weight of other’s sorrows.
80. That if I listened long enough, loved hard enough, took it all inside,
81. I might remedy some wrongs.
82. So I counted cuts on 17 year old wrists, 36 to be exact.
83. Bandaged burns, applied ointment.
84. Listened to stories of self-mutilation.
85. Gave hugs. Rides. Cried.
86. Called social services.
87. Took faces into my hands.
88. Listened while she held a gun
89. on the other end of the phone line.
90. Said I see you.
91. Said I love you.
92. Over & over.
93. Meant every word of it.

94. Because twenty years from now when I’m listening to your story
95. or telling mine in third person
96. I don’t want to question if I could have done more,
97. said more, been more

98. I want to be the woman who survived
99. all the moments of impact
100. and kept on loving with a love
101. acquired by faith.

March 2003

1. I haven’t written anything lately.
2. That bothers me but
3. I’ve been painting and
4. Years ago I realized it’s a creative cycle of mine:
5. Live in words for one month (or two)
6. Then become overwhelmed by images.
7. I think it has to do with the Gemini & Cancer in me.
8. I’m not really certain though.
9. I’m indecisive.

10. When shopping I select items on a whim.
11. Then put them back on the shelf when I’m ready to check out.
12. I’ve worked in a department store.
13. Sometimes it bothers me not to put stray items in their place.
14. Sometimes I’m like that with men.
15. But only if they’re–arrogant, conceited, shitty, try to take the upper hand.
16. I stand my ground. Assume a role.
17. Become unbreakable for one moment in time.
18. I can be sweet as pie or stubborn as hell depending on mood and/or shifts in the wind.

19. As a teenager I was hell bent on saving the world.
20. I didn’t understand that the world wasn’t asking to be saved.
21. Five years ago I began working with emotionally disturbed / delinquent kids.
22. They have been my life but
23. I’m thinking about letting that go.
24. In two hours I will decide which direction my life will take.
25. After I make my decision I’ll have to spend a few days alone.
26. Some might refer to it as moping and crying.
27. I like to call it processing.
28. Sometimes I have to spend days processing just so I can
29. breathe again.
30. I grieve in private.
31. It’s a trait learned from my father and my grandmother.
32. By grieving in private we are strong for others.
33. I try to put on my strong face quite often.
34. Especially when I feel anything but.

35. Today I spent a few hours listening to my father tell stories.
36. He is a natural story teller and I try to memorize his expressions, voices, maneurisms.
37. I know that one day he won’t be around to tell anymore stories.
38. That thought breaks my heart.
39. As most of my world is somehow woven around him.
40. He has been my mother & father & healer.
41. Spiritual adviser & so much more.
42. When I was eight he carried my sick mother through the doors of a hospital.
43. Spent one winter driving back & forth & worrying about his wife.
44. He took her back to the hospital later that summer.
45. He didn’t bring her home.
46. Part of me still aches
47. But I’ve learned to bury it underneath such love.

48. I try to connect the things of my past with current habits.
49. I’m an obsessive collector.
50. I don’t like to call it hoarding but I believe that’s what it is.
51. Everything I own has some sentiment attached.
52. Every rock, stick, book, dried flower–a piece of memory embedded within its surface.
53. I collect antiques imagining the women whose families grew up moving around the pieces.
54. The hands that have dusted / swiped in anger, boredom, need.
55. It makes me feel connected to a world.
56. To a history that may not be my own.
57. But is still history and needs to be honored
58. in some small way.

59. I’m terribly afraid of making the wrong decisions.
60. Of being trapped in a career / love / relationship that might someday
61. suffocate me until I have to leave.
62. I’ve left before.
63. The look on his face and the way he told me it was okay
64. broke my heart.
65. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt anyone.
66. But I cannot settle for something that doesn’t make me blissfully happy.

67. At 67 I see myself sitting on a porch swing.
68. In a tie-dyed dress
69. sipping homemade wine
70. enjoying the moment
71. pondering flower beds
72. and what my hands will create next.
73. The little old man picking his guitar while I hum along
74. is not a permanent fixture in this vision.
75. I don’t know if I will ever find anyone to suit all my quirks.
76. But I would like a co-conspirator.
77. A collaborator.
78. We could write poetry for a few months.
79. Then split canvas and paint.
80. Communicate with our eyes.
81. Sit in silence.
82. Wake up each morning pinching each other with our toes.
83. Laugh until noon.
84. Then piddle around in antique shops.
85. wood shops.
86. flower beds / herb gardens / blackberry vines.

87. There are so many things left to do.
88. I doubt I’ll ever get around to everything in my head.
89. Right now I have four different projects going.
90. A huge decision weighing on my shoulders
91. And everyone around me seems to be pregnant.

92. Someday I wouldn’t mind 3-4-5 kids
93. playing outside in their very own boxcar
94. while I’m inside baking & cooking & making things pretty.
95. But I’m not ready for babies & diapers & 3 AM feedings.
96. I still feel like such a little girl myself
97. playing dress-up in women’s clothes
98. necklaces too big for my eight year old neck,
99. collecting chipped tea-cups
100. because I want to believe my memories
101. won’t ooze through the crack.

February 21, 2002

I am
Venus & Rebecca
Gemini & Cancer
and my grandmother’s
fresh-picked turnip greens.

( I am 9 layers of deep love. )

Complex,
in my simplicity,
I am a wanderer of inner worlds;
in search of purity,
uncovering my own truths,
wrestling with inadequacy
and trying like hell to make myself
believe.

( I am six variations of sound. )

I am sometimes a blue girl
with yellow trim
in self-portraits I release,
at midnight by the light of an oil lamp;
A hanger of daffodils and lilacs,
I hoard moments,
wrap them around me
like a crazy patchwork quilt
and choose to be comforted by the softness
instead of suffocated by the weight.

( I am 3 generations of women who could not speak. )

Stubborn and insightful
and capable of becoming something more
than what I allow myself to see,
I am my father’s daughter;
a teller of stories, a seer
the girl who knows that there is
something more to this life,
the girl who believes that god resides
in the way we look at each other,
the way we rub insides without ever
touching the skin.

( I am still the little girl crying for her mother
and the bigger girl still grieving for that loss. )

I write when I shouldn’t.
Refuse to speak when I should
and wonder if anyone will ever be interested enough
to glance below the exterior,
though I realize that your perception, his perception, her perception
won’t alter the core of who I am.

( I am 23 years of re-shaped awkwardness. )

Guided by instinct,
unable to see how emotion is separate from thought,
I live by lyric, swim in metaphor
understand that the feeling in my belly
heightens or bubbles or retreats depending on
the ferocity or existence of rain.

( I have a tendency to dance in my wetness. )

In love with e.e.
I swoon when it comes to words
and understand that the expression
of creativity through song, or pen
or paint, or changing guitar chords,
is, for me, much like foreplay
in the sense that creativity of one,
inspires passion in the next,
while new passion in itself,
births new creativity.

( I feel fire in my cheeks. )

A new woman,
I am learning to love the little girl inside,
speaking for her, understanding
letting her try on her mother’s clothes,
and convincing her
to get comfortable in my skin.

I am unraveling mystery,
reveling in it,
washing my hair in contentment
and wondering exactly where this road
will lead.

I am three steps into forever.
Two steps into believing
and swimming through the waters of me.

With every stroke,
I am splitting the pool

wide open.

Originally posted Tuesday, March 22, 2005]

1. I picked daffodils today.
2. I trespassed on a neighbor’s property to do it.
3. Their house is gone, turned to a pile of brick & burned appliances.
4. The chimney still stands.
5. I’ve taken photographs of it.
6. Black & white stills that aren’t pretty / beautiful / meaningful.
7. They just remind me of a place. A time.
8. Every spring daffodils line the perimeter of such loss.
9. Every spring I pick them.
10. Along with red bud blooms.
11. And the occasional wisteria root.
12. Daffodils are not beautiful flowers.
13. So simple in form.
14. But they are hopeful.
15. The first glimpse of color against dead browns & rotten greys.
16. And so I pick them.
17. Because they remind me that my insides will warm again.
18. That this fog will lift.
19. That in a few short months I’ll be picking mushrooms.
20. And maybe sitting in a field, drinking cheap cheap wine, watching the sun come up.
21. I don’t know that anything feels as good.
22. Quiet.
23. Simple.
24. Content.
25. Hair damp with dew.
26. Warm sun.
27. Heavy eyelids.
28. Feeling as though you might have just taken your first breath.
29. I’ve spent many mornings watching the sun come up.
30. From a tailgate.
31. A car hood.
32. Through a cracked windshield.
33. A wide open door.
34. Hours of conversation dangling inches from my eyes.
35. A flannel shirt is the best method of protection.
36. It holds your insides in when your mouth is busy trying to expel them.
37. Unsure how much should be revealed.
38. Not really caring.
39. Because this is life you figure.
40. And if you think it, feel it, want it, dream about it, maybe you should speak it.
41. Reveal it.
42. Because we’re not really as alone as we think we are, you figure.
43. Because all of us are connected by common themes.
44. Hurt.
45. Betrayal.
46. Love.
47. Unreturned love.
48. Feeling so far from that place you want to be.
49. Feeling so not enough.
50. So hidden.
51. So lost.
52. With all these quiet somethings lurking beneath the surface.
53. Common themes.
54. The boy.
55. The girl.
56. The childhood.
57. The desperation.
58. The search.
59. Meaningless.
60. Meant to be deciphered, understood but still meaningless.
61. Ice cream on tailgates.
62. Laughing until your belly hurts.
63. Laughing so hard you cry.
64. Laughing & crying so hard the line between sanity & insanity is blurred.
65. Laughing until you begin to worry that this is the beginning.
66. Then pulling back.
67. And wiping tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand.
68. Or your shirt sleeve.
69. Stomping mud all over hell & creation.
70. Because this song is the best fucking song you’ve ever heard.
71. And because this moment is the best fucking moment you’ve ever lived.
72. Crawling home at 3 am.
73. With a belly so full.
74. Of living.
75. Lost in now.
76. Because now is all that matters anyway.
77. And now daffodils are blooming.
78. Some are dying on my table.
79. In an aluminum pitcher.
80. Once owned by an elderly lady.
81. Who was middle-aged.
82. Who was once a girl.
83. Torn by common themes.
84. And her own unique chaos.
85. Who survived.
86. Or didn’t.
87. Who handed down her madness.
88. Or had it sold from underneath her.
89. Who understood that it wasn’t really madness at all.
90. That there is no label.
91. That it’s life.
92. A torrent of emotion.
93. Spectacular swings.
94. Finding out what we’re made of.
95. What we’re, void of bullshit, made of.
96. Forgiving what / who got us there.
97. Allowing ourselves to thaw.
98. To open.
99. To reveal what our eyes give away, anyway.

100. Memories are golden.
101. Or some dumb shit like that.

Originally posted Wednesday, July 07, 2004

1. I’ve been watching The Godfather.
2. Reading Notes from Above the Ground.
3. Both have affected me.
4. In a way that makes me think that I am temporarily Italian
5. and living in a city
6. surrounded by the homeless
7. and dodging the calls of an unknown X.
8. At 25 I saw the ocean.
9. It spoke to me.
10. It keeps speaking to me.
11. It tells me not to worry about all the insignificant somethings.
12. It tells me to just be.
13. And to let go.

14. Saturday I forgave.
15. In such a small way.
16. I watched the sky explode & thought about the need
17. to let it all go
18. to move on.
19. I wanted someone near me.
20. I compared him to the explosions in the sky.
21. Both eye-opening & magical in the way they make me feel.
22. I tasted good hooch.
23. Contemplated an early bender.
24. Watched a drunk uncle send his son on beer runs for a band
25. that played hauntingly beautiful bluegrass tunes.
25. I felt empathy.
26. I wanted to say ‘I’m sorry. You’re old. It’s alright. This was going to happen.’
27. Instead I said ‘How are you?’
28. ‘I’m doing good.‘
29. And not much more.
30. Had I sampled more hooch, the sky would not have been the only thing exploding.

31. I picked strawberries straight from the vine with my Aunt Marcie.
32. We sampled the product several times
33. as we stooped over rows under hot South Carolinian sun.
34. We walked along the beach.
35. Talked in a way that really mattered.
36. And it meant something to me.
37. That moment was defining and beautiful.
38. And I am grateful to have experienced it.
39. Later, I walked until I could see no one.
40. I scratched words in the sand
41. with a piece of driftwood
42. hoping that someone might walk by
43. after I had gone
44. discover the word ‘live’
45. and decide to do just that.
46. Beside the ocean I felt small.
47. Like a tiny speck
48. with so much possibility sleeping in her limbs.
49. My soul felt quiet & still &
50. I wanted to live in that moment forever.
51. Wanted to bring it home with me.
52. Along with the color of the sand
53. the bleached white driftwood
54. the rusted aqua supports of the Port Royal boardwalk.
55. I tried to memorize it all.
56. As I try to memorize so much.
57. So that when I am consumed by chaos
58. I can imagine myself beside the water
59. Under the oaks
60. Inside the church
61. On that log.
62. Still & quiet.

63. I attempted to sell my yard.
64. Was amused by a blonde headed child
65. Who pronounced Elizabeth, “Ewizabeth”.
66. Cried on a back porch & fell
67. Face first into a swimming pool
68. While trying to climb out.
69. I felt hands on my ankles.
70. I remember coming up & laughing.
71. I don’t remember much else.

72. I turned 26.
73. I found a birthday card tucked underneath my windshield wipers.
74. I found one in the mail.
75. I received a postcard.
76. And tea.
77. I heard Happy Birthday again & again.
77. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt such love.
78. I welcomed 26.
79. I will welcome 27.
80. Thirty, somehow, doesn’t seem so bad.

81. In Ohio I was twisted every imaginable way.
82. Turned upside down at excessive speed &
83. Prayed more than once “Dear God let us make it through this alive.”
84. Those three lines read like a horrific accident occurred.
85. I volunteered for the twisting.
86. Paid for it.
87. At the gates of King’s Island where I
88. swallowed my fear repeatedly.
89. Walking through rain I felt adventurous.
90. Coming home I felt 17 again.
91. In a car with 5 girls.
92. Facing unexpected circumstances.
93. Not knowing exactly how everything would turn out.
94. But laughing & loving hard.

95. I helped bake a Shrek cake.
96. For a little boy’s first birthday party.
97. Cut out a “Happy Birthday Cody” banner
98. And realized the cycle was repeating itself
99. as Lisa & I traced letters onto scrapbook paper
100. then carefully cut the edges.

101. Many moments. An awakening of sorts. Beautiful & alive.