Moojo Cafe

storm chaser

i don't need a tornado to
race after or a
hurricane to hunker
down from
a monsoon to outrun
or lightning to
hide from
i've got all the storms
i can handle
churning up inside
my emotional barometer
is falling rapidly
and it doesn't look
pretty so duck and
cover take shelter
and get the hell
out of my way

mapping

as women grow older
we fret over the
appearance of lines
on our faces
my lines showed up
but not on my face
i look down
at my hands and
see troubles i've
been through and joys
that surprised me
loves that emerged
and then walked away
pride in what i've
overcome and shame
at what i haven't
people i've known
and friendships
that survived
babies i've held and
tears wiped away
comfort and guidance
and doors that i've
slammed
they've been held
palms up in grace and
carted burdens from
place to place
they're a road map
to survival and
a testament
to leaving behind
my denial

intuition

when did my knowing
become something i
don't want to
know?  when did
that inner voice
become something
i feel compelled
to quiet?  who
walks up to a
truth-teller and says
thanks anyway but
i'd prefer to be
kept in the
dark?  what will
it take for me
to step back into
the light?

balm

the first sip of coffee
from my favorite
glazed mug the one
with the palm
tree on the front
a tiny nibble of
dark chocolate while
curled up in bed
lost in a novel
my eye catching the
blue sky space
between the branches
while sitting at
a stoplight
the comforting nuzzle
of one of my
brother's dogs their
unspoken TLC
a balm for my broken
heart

annoint

blessed be the ones
who tell the truth
in face of
an overwhelming desire
to cover it up
blessed be the tiny
fissures of light that
seep into the darkness
that find the
cracks in your defenses
for planting seeds
of self-kindness
blessed be the gifts
willing you
willingness
to open your arms
and receive
even as you cover
your eyes

etch

i didn't feel it while
it was happening didn't
even notice the marks
like a Mehndi on my
heart you've etched
your patterns into my
being they may not look
like anyone else's they
may not conform they
may not fall into proper
form but they're there
and i can't deny them
the traces of desire
the lattice of words that
want to come out the
bones of my essence
shifting beneath the
urge to stay with you
the urge to keep you
at my side you bring me
comfort now and ease
you let me be playful
you let me be unleashed
but most of all you just
let me be

split

you don't know how long
you've been here like this
face-down in the sea but
surely it's been awhile
judging by the moss that's
attached itself to your back
you used to be so majestic
you used to be so beautiful
as you soared through the
sky they don't understand they
don't even know what you
are and they'll probably never
figure it out because they're
all about weight and gravity
they don't understand that
wings are all around them
yours just happen to be made
out of granite but if they'd
take a look around a really
close look they'd recognize
that familiar split in the least
likely places they'd find
unexpected reminders
everywhere that flight doesn't
happen just in the sky

circle

gently ease yourself off
that hammock of tears
open wide to let out that
scream the one that's been
making your throat raw now
bend down low to gather up
your shiniest self and reach it
up to the sun and let it
bleach your bones dry and
cleanse you from the inside
out let the clouds whisper
serenity across your mind and
the trees embrace your
heart while you pick the
fruits of your soul to place
upon the altar of self-love
light a candle of joy and
inhale its rosy perfume close
your eyes not to forget but
to remember all that is
and always will be

improper

it would be improper of me
to say that you're an asshole
it would be improper of me
to say that you're full of shit
it would be improper of me
to say your ego's out of control
it would be improper of me
to say fuck that noise
so i'll just say this
your behavior?  is very improper.

glimpse

glimpse

at the palm desert rock
concert sascha baron cohen
was screwing a girl on
the balcony of a 1900's
craftsman while she recited
things in california that
start with J i wrote a few
of them down for my
purse poem while i thought
of tom hanks in darfur
lyrics and bistro 33 poetry
my treasure map dreams
and chocolate love had
me throwing on my pj's
and climbing into bed at
the buckhorn bar listening
to brian regan on itunes
while barefoot celebs wrote
poems about roads and
in portland oregon they
reupholstered a couch when
lenny kravitz drank pachamama
coffee on a luau parade
float while performing t-shirt
surgery in an asshole fever
video i got youtube bebop
fever while searching secret
fishing holes which led to
circular thinking and reddi
whip affirmations so i yanked
my retro skirt off the antique
clothesline and stuck a few
funny absence poems in
my cowboy boots and headed
for safe passage