Home Makers

We've never been alone,

tortured making homes.

they tried to beat it out of us,

the power of our uterus.


but She has been sleeping through this virus

letting Her body shed its mucus

and pus

gaining strength in slumber sweet.

She now awakens, and is hungry.


eat well, momma.

nourish yourselves.

eat well, momma.

sustain our cells.


we had passed the torch of power

to our brothers and our fathers.

knowing that their little towers

would never be able to destroy our mother.


and now we rise to take it back,

this silly boy's game is ending.

the women are standing, with straightened backs,

to begin the work of mending.


Oh! We mend and stitch

and bit by bit

yes! piece by piece we sew,

the worlds frayed frock back from the past,

to make her something new.

I miss you brother,

who tended the wild.

I miss you mother,

who protected her child.

I miss you cousin,

who planted the seeds.

I miss you friend,

who gave us our dreams.

Hopping Freight to Unknown Dreams

I could hear all of the robots living all around us, performing their invisible night time chores.  Beeping and flashing, spinning and clicking, humming, cranking, grinding, making ice, heating the vents, playing white noise, eating energy.  I slept weirdly, shallowly, rolling into a somatic soundscape of an industrial opera, fever chills blowing the sounds up into a monstrous, looming, machines alive and soulless, grinding grinding humming, whirring.   Enormous trains rode in on ethereal rails out of other's dreams, it seems, slowing to a screeching halt outside my front door, long, slow, painfully screaming metal brakes on metal wheels, so many wheels, sparking and smoking and aching, creaking with slowed velocity, inviting my sleepy, dreamy body to hop the freight to places unknown, far off rails into other people's inner darknesses.

Fill your hearts

Empty your pockets

Release your souls into your mother's embrace.


Come one, Come all!

From the steel and glass sprawl!


Tormented fools!

Out from inside yourselves.

The depths of what is, ruins.


You've forgotten, little ones,

the Woman who birthed you.

Distracted by noises and ploys and new toys.


Do you remember her scent now? 

Like cinnamon flowers?

And the way she sings grayly in morning lights' hours?


On the edge of oblivion, I allow myself to devour


this wave washes over me

like demons

and I let it take hold


the heart speeds

bleeds and I pray

to the creates I feel I disobey


Always I fall,

again and again.

Such silly little children

writhing in sin

and addiction.

Caught in the eyes of storms

We are tormented by torrents

just figments

of collective imaginations.


Banish! For the love of beauty

and belly

and fat

and blood.


There is nothing,

all things pass.

This too.

if only you breathe.  breathe.  breathe.


a loop

of waiting

just wait

and all washes away.


for what?


for whom?

to lay down the spoon.

We love you.

I'm blind.

We watch you.

I'm deaf.

We know you.

I'm dead.


The Blood of my Fathers

The blood of my fathers runs cold through my veins

They beat down their daughters and built up their cages.


Fences and heavy homes, Pastures and steel.


They carried their wounds, forgetting their past

As they forsook the moon, and tore up the lands.


Horses and cattle and bullets of lead. 

Tobacco and whiskey, white sugar and bread.