The world

What a gift, A day with my sister Penny, Met her seems a life time ago, Rolled into less then a month, Best family adopted without paper work, Found with a Goddess blessing, Prayed for Recieved, The world, Not a friend someone who calls me sister, Penny looks forward to Saturday because she spends the

Me

When you’re in a moment do you ever expect that moment to end? Is your heart anticipated because it’s just too perfect and it can’t possibly happen to you. Do sometimes you wonder if you will ever be in that moment again, When people want to be with you cuz they think you’re cool, And

FB is screwed up

I’m driving tomorrow, A friend try to give me $20 vie Facebook, They have Never Ever had my bank information, Still! Still they tell me and my zip is Wrong! Who the Hell do they think they are! Who fo the hell Are they?

June creeps nearer

Fifty-two degrees northern Iowa, Five forty-nine p.m. Cold afternoon, Puts me in mind of June ninety-five, Black Hills Mount Rushmore Keystone S.D., Rained every afternoon, New employee building seasonals and fulltimers who lived on the mountain, Mount Rushmore is a year round concession, No fun all that month, Days off get sick wandering around or

Fourty-one

Nine above freezing, My momma cat knew last night, Knew the kitten she had not taken to had died, Emily came to me twice, Sadness stirred deep in her eyes, A sensative good hearted, Loving marbled black calico describes her best, In time Emily adopts kittens not hers, The second time she came looked at

Poetry in motion,

Lemons are for lemonade, Never run with scissors, Poet’s get meloncholy, I dream of going back to where safe was, Another time, A time full of fear, Teased to tears, I remember my first published poem, No one ever seem to understand, My feelings, My words, Like wind falls a wind fall is an apple

Talk

She calls to talk, A Florida friend, I talk to cats only nearly It seems to surprise her my need to talk, I was just told I talk to much, If I call her when not sleeping she will tell me this is not a goodtime, I go longer then a desert waiting to articulate

… .For me

A writer is who I am, For me breathing just a habit, Changing bandages, Carving a place for my heart to beat, For me roaring in my ears to Echoing off my upper lobs writer things, Stories that make me whole, When I write whether with finger or pen, The bleeding effect, I one with

Vultures

Circling over prey, That’s what it feels like, Alone Ok n a sea of straight non poets, I do nothing but write and stay home, No income stops one from connecting, Like dominoes, In a design, Missing that one piece, Centered just right, Causation propells forward motion, Desires not string enough, Change takes more then

Least intelligent crook,

Send an Iowan money to cash, Real money, An Iowan smarter then most, Of good parent, Intellect not lacking, Unlike government of the sixties ours thought Poverty does not breed stupidity, Poverty breeds intellect, Stupid creep sent money to launder, Out Iowan lesbian had bills to pay, Crook wasn’t wasting any time, He was concern