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Rescue Me (A poem from years ago)


Women artists in patriarchy

that doesn’t exist, due to some “new information”; however patriarchy doesn’t require our belief…it is as close as your man “playfully”, painfully, pulling your hair while you are walking around Value Village on a Saturday afternoon

To make art is to be in the now

Of course that sounds Zen

It is

Like all ideas it belongs to no one

but when you know

name your sources, give credit


the question for laypeople remains, who are they?

It only takes a second for everyone to be reminded

Oh You!, exclaimed with wide eyes

There is something wrong with that girl’s head


So in denial of their own

They fail to name it in others

Pretty but vacant

she quietly informed me

my mother used to say “I like my mind to be a complete blank”- M

the oldest most profound taboo


Carte blanche is a dangerous thing

Remember they will brush your hair back with one hand

Stab you in the back with the other

Namaste she uses dismissively

An ironic weapon; eastern religion

Without the accompanying wisdom teachings

the Dharma

they remain awash, jelly fish in the tide

discernment necessary to use with the broken

crumpled by life in a vice

ready to boil over

blow a lid

a gasket

they are coritsol ready

The addict when we were growing up was

You don’t have to consider children or the insane

no sense in asking who they would have been if

the past

needs to rest in the past

left alone in the now

I call to you

Trouble , Rescue Me (Cat Stevens)

I’m channeling K’s story it is merging with mine

the pnes who rescue

don't stop themselves extracting a price

for their generous condescension

The beggar, orphan, thief

on the outskirts

fight dogs for the bones of their dead

gratitude, repayment

they know exhaustion

half starved, they need too need to feast

can’t even blame them

compassion has been activated

supine, eyes scream

I await you

hear footsteps coming to me

I call out to you

Trouble, oh Trouble Rescue Me –Cat Stevens

we’ve hit a rich vein here, not meaning to be insensitive

its flowing but it aint easy

we sacrifice for following our minds down these dark alleys, through back yards and along rivers, taunting ticks on feeble ankles over boulders boundaried by sea grass

They pok, prod

to get a rise out of you

maybe it helps

without primate need

we would die more often, early

in survival we remind one another of life

in a fever

We are gone for this world

Though you may very well be feeling to die

to tell a living loved one who is engaged with life

that you want to leave it

When you are vulnerable you kick your friends away

you send me photos of yourself in the mail

ask for one back

I could never do it, it seemed a vanity I could ill afford

there was no digital

your crimes depended upon the faulty

though all too clear

memories of others

flashes in the dark

too noisy

the room is spinning

I close my eyes to it

wake up disoriented

what happened?

Clowns, Losers and Wealthy Babies

like a tug-of-war

with you both at one and other end


being ripped apart

ancient torture

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