Articles - Poetry


I have no time, anymore

To sit and watch the Earth turn,

Sending the Sun to sleep.


I have not time, anymore

To stand at lands end

and have the smiling sea

lap at my feet.


I think of past days,

When the open road lured me

And the hot desert wind cleared

My mind and charged my

Body with life.


Ah freedom. Ah.


Someday again.

Someday again


I will laugh with friends

I will wander in the wild

With those I love.


Til then, I dream.

Til then, I dream.

Rhino Virus


It's only a cold I tell myself.

I won't die.

I won't have to go the

Big white place where they

Stick needles in me and

Make me poop in a pan.


Right. It's only a cold.

Hack, hack, hack.

Sneeze, Suhneeyze, SUHH  UH UH UH SU SU NEEEEEZE!

Blow, and blow again, and again and again.


Damn, out of tissue.

Good thing. There's no more skin on my nose anyway.

Groan. More tissue is a million miles away,

Downstairs, in the garage. Uuugghh.

Wait. Toilet paper, that's the ticket. It's closer.


Body creaking, getting out of bed.

Where are my ^&*$# slippers.

The Hell with it. Barefoot to the bathroom.

Grab the roll.



Only a cold.

My body aches

My vision is blurry.

I can't breath.

I cough so much I scared the cat.


Why aren't there drugs for this?

Oh wait, there are.

Maybe I have some from the last time.


Back to the bathroom.


Fumble, fumble, grouse, grouch.

Aha! Here they are!

Damn! Expired seven years ago!


Take them anyway. What can it hurt. I"m already a dead woman.


An hour later, no effect. Three aspirin will have to do.


It's only a cold. It could be worse.

Why don't I feel like it could be worse?

With all the suffering in the world, mine is just a little thing.

Or is it?


With only a twinge of guilt, I admit that

For me, for now, my suffering is the worse thing in the world.

So there!

The Bridge Away from God


When I was a small child, my mother once told me,

"Girl, don't listen to all that religious stuff."


But I had a feeling, deep inside that said

There's more, there has to be more

Than this world full of pain and strife.


I saw things. I talked to people invisible to other eyes and ears.

Who were they? Where were they?


I remembered things about being in another land,

in a grown up body, in a large, cold castle.


I knew there was more than just the here and now.


The pastor said Jesus can save me.

Save me from what? For what? How?


When I thought about it, I felt good.

WhenI looked at the painting on the wall of the church,

Jesus stood there, knocking on a partially opened door.

His silky blond hair flowed over his shoulders

His bright blue eyes emanated love and kindness.


I was eight and I was ready to be saved.

After Sunday school the pastor called for anyone to come up and be saved.

The music swelled in my ears, every urge was there for me to go up to the bench and be dunked in the holy waters of Jesus' tears.


But something wouldn't let my feet move.

Something rooted me to the floor.

Something said, "Don't go. This isn't for you."


That's what saved me,

Saved me from a life of denying my humanness

And feeling guilt for my female-ness.


Since then, little by little, I have thrown off the

Spirit of Neptune who so fogs our minds to the clarity of life.


I have listened with an open mind. Read with eager brain

For the evidence I was seeking that there was or was not

A God like the Bible says or that the Pastor so passionately proclaimed.


I remembered his trembling voice calling out God's words

As he sweated his way back and forth across the stage,

Stabbing at the open book in his hand.

My ample breasted aunt Laura, stood beside me,

swaying and moaning to an inner rhythm

as pastor's words jabbed her like spikes in a grizzly bear.


We're all sinners, she would say. Only Jesus can save us.

He's dead I thought. Save me how? I didn't understand.


Step by step, I left that world behind,

Only to substitute if for a universe filled with spirits, angels, guides, fairies, and netherfolk.


Jesus was a benevolent spirit, the spirit of peace, the herald of the Piscean Age.


Step by step, I left that world behind too.

Jesus is a pretty myth.

God is a neutral force that doesn't care a whit if we are good or bad.

He's not Santa Clause after all.

He doesn't have a list that he checks twice

to see if we are naughty or nice.


I still talk with invisible people and those who say they are dead.

I still have moments of brilliant intuitive insight that helps those in need.

I still move into a trance and speak, what some say, are profound words.

I still look to the planets as archetypal forces playing in my life.


The world of atheism, although attractive in many ways, seems so sterile,

without magic or dazzle.


So I cling to my dazzle, but with a more open mind than before.

It is my dream after all and I can include anything in it that makes me feel good.




Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!

Ride! Yes! Yes! Yes!

Now? What? Wait?

Why? No, no,no.


C'mon, let's go. Let's go.

What? Yes! Door open.


Yeah! Freedom! Huh?

Heel? Damn. Okay.


Ooooh car too far.

Huh? Cat!

No. Ride better.

Cat can wait.

Flowers can wait.

Rock can wait.


What's taking him so long?

Hey! Walk on four legs.

It's faster. Let's go!


Yes. Car here. Door?

Damn. Where is he?

Finally. "Beeep Boop."



Try again. JUUUMP.

Yes. Seat mine?

Sniff, sniff, sniff.

Hey! Who was here?

Smells like stranger.

Hmmph. Oh well.

I'm going for a ride!!!!!


Here we go. Oooooh!

Window down pleeze.

Yes. Little more?

Good! Sniiiifffff!



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