A tree doesn’t need me to write a book but I need a tree to begin with blank paper.
so everything is dharma
Then I am too!
And if a big rock looked at my life
Daughter sister mother wife
What would my being teach?
Not teach, really, more of a, what am I, in the world?
Oh dear me, I’m trying to give lessons to rocks.
No matter how I rub a stone
Rub myself into stone
Disconnect the phone
Think of an old fling who loved that movie (phone home).
I dreamed last night he still loved me
I think of him as a son or a brother - our intimacy born of un-otherness
I can’t help being a poet! What brain does.
I really am what I eat!
So I switched to all organic because I have to get back to the earth good and early.
TOUPEE sits outside, outside of sound
I sit at the table that’s like a desk and crave fat – something to sustain me
crave sleep, a nap
he paws at the door in cool gray rain
everyone loves cats, right, because of the internet? which they invented??
when toxoplasmosis stopped working
even before she gave me the stone
I wanted to write you a poem like the moon
the moon is big and beautiful
over a hill, it comes into view
yesterday I learned : whether or not the pain comes, I live in a vulnerable body
rocks live in moonlight
always a sliver and always an orange expanse
when there is sun in moon
me in you, you, you
you be the tidal pull, I’ll be the pool
I woke up at 3am last night;
Are hearts all connected?
Like how we think (or don’t) of the colony in our gut?
The almost knowing tingle, the unseen hand at my throat, that nauseous need to hug every last one of you. And from one of you to make another one of you.
Bad news makes me want to have babies.
To fill the world with a newborn love.
I want to buy a rag rug for your mother
Because I imagine
She’ll know the work of weaving
And I want to lay something beautiful at her feet
How big is world
This whole world an inconceivable ache and I am also a world stuck in the stuck of the tiny
I look up star struck
Magnificent bodies, broken
I really am Joan, starving Christian saint, set myself on fire
Or is it just that I finally watched The Hunger Games on Netflix
Deposits of self in self and all of it sacred
Individual earths and yeah, I do like to think of it as a whole functioning universe
A braid of time and am I allowed to talk about race and everything
I’m not afraid
Or I’m not that afraid
Tend to myself, to others, to opening
Like an owl to cock head and wonder whoooo
Now that I love you
I walk in the face of loss
Like a woman
We wake hungry with a crave through the depth of a bone. Wash a buttery bowl what looks fierce like a hat. Want it on head. Want a child for someone to know what it means to need to don a bowl.
Love a body so hard. Not abstract betterment. Just feeling better and being with the being bowled over of it.
Last night in my dream I was depressed again.
I dreamed I was in a production of some musical and we were going to perform at Madison Square Garden and all I could think was – we haven’t even run the full show in like two weeks?! We are going to get slammed by THE CRITICS.
There were dance routines and spacing issues and I was backstage and I was one of the leads and I thought – I can’t pull this off, so I tried to feel like Beyonce. I tried to feel like Beyonce feeling like Sasha Fierce.
I thought about (and this is not a dream) Ricki Lee Jones. On the radio, I heard some Ricki Lee Jones and thought – she will always be a lesser Joni. To whom will I be a lesser?
What a depressor.
Popsicle stick trick when playing doctor.
She looked in the mirror and thought - I can’t believe I was relaxed enough to let you fuck me in the ass like that.