Muscle Memory

There is a tree still standing in the Redwoods that remembers

There’s a ring sitting in a trunk under old love letters, and a woolen sweater, it remembers

There’s a photograph of your smile shadows cast by the setting sun in an album now covered in paper,

it remembers

And it’s been a while, but I recall that big sweet smile.

And I remember the Mean Green Machine of family celebrating your arrival.

I remember the first time you held my man, little man.

I remember your five tiny fingers on the left, and on the right

I remember that I loved you so much, you were worth every bit of the fight.

I remember your funny little toes, and your perfect little nose.

Today, while you are away this is where my mind goes.

I remember the time you said my name. The first I love you. Kissing away all your pain.

I remember when you were almost two and scared to cross the seams in the sidewalk…

I remember your proud brother teaching you to talk.

You make a perfect square. Together we are family.

Funny little one, how you fascinate me.

Great Experimentations

Time stalls in our presence… it stops to watch what we’ll do next.

When we were children we ran naked through a backyard sprinkler and the old lady who lived there yelled at us and threatened to call the police. We ran like little snipes from her yard and the delicious stolen droplets of water now pooling between our toes.

The winds stop moving at your command, I watch it happening with wonder as you wave your right hand.

You are ten feet tall and bullet proof, you are the epitome of a summer spent in a radio flyer, and treasures collected at the beach. You are sand between my toes, and sex underneath.

I told you once we were running with scissors, and there was never any safety net… I felt the chill in late september and a pain I haven’t forgotten yet.

Time stalls in our presence in a sleepy sort of way… It doesn’t get things done, there is always another little something it needs to say.

Turn back the clock, meet halfway down the block, bring your Bird on a wire, and that rusted old radio flyer.

Pakistani children cool off by walking t



I would not cheapen you with words that are small, or so big they don’t fit you at all.

You are the caffeine in my coffee, my wake up and face the world call out.

You are like the solid and unexpected 300.00 cash bonus I’m going to keep all to myself because Old Navy is having a sale, and I’ve been wanting to change my hair.

And you are the answer to the question I couldn’t ask, I wouldn’t dare.

You make me look at myself and remind me to laugh, and to forgive… I think you may be the only one I know who gets it and really knows how to live.

You’re the chord in that song I can’t stop trying to play.

They tell me you will disappear without apology one day… but to them I simply say

He would not cheapen me with carelessness, or act simple, or unsavory at all.

I am the last snicker doodle in the bag, I am a soft safe space where your hurts heal.

I’m the hot bath at the end of a long day, I’m the keeper of the lost word you forgot to say.

I’m the fingers on that right hand, right now… reaching out to feel.

It is every day, and in every way my  heart you steal.



pretty good year


Change. 2012 brought nothing but the unrecognizable…

These things I miss…

Creature Comfort

Self assuredness

One of the most amazing people I will ever know.

Good times had

Friends who I somehow outgrew… I still love you.


That which I can live without…

The insincere

The selfish

The foolish

Voices raised in anger


The near loss of a loved one

Still I know despite all its unsettled dust this is my jumping off point. In a year or so, it will all change again, I  know. So… then  for now I want to thank my loved ones for being part of the weirdest, wildest year of my whole life. Im proud of all of you who played parts in the story we are still trying to understand. And Im proud of others too, for their contributions, their solutions, some elegant, some disgusting, some still so… enticing. 2012 I cannot say I will miss you, but like the song says, an old friend like you cannot be forgot.


And when you said time is all it takes to heal I would look out at the dwindling daylight wondering aloud… is time the trick?

Tricky time… I wait for you, I sometimes chase you… I try to hold you in my hands- and try to save you.

I will set you free… and in the final darkest hour on my clock I hope you will still release me.

I thought I’d make friends with time, thought that we were blind- but fine because don’t THEY say, To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven?

When is it our time, my time, your time and their time? Can we have it all at the same time?

I say Yes.. just a small three letter word for beautiful possibility, for all that is likely and well worn, well loved… and sometimes at least for me, a bit forlorn.

So I finally get the joke- time moves backwards through the things we want, feels we like can’t move from the horror of a painful spot, and leaves us too quickly in our prime…

Tricky indeed, my old friend Time. 

The Essential… (provincial) and somewhat pycho babble of Anne

I would catch a plane and fly to wherever the sun is setting right now… somewhere warm, where the earth is alive with color and the scent of promise can fill my lungs. And the spray of a new perfume can cover my cold, white skin.

Because anything has to be better than the places Im dwelling in.  I have the rank strangers’ sweat sticking to my brow- and a feeling of a loss that isn’t even mine, anyhow.

I would let the slow flicker of a low flame illuminate a path in front of me… and let my nimble feet take me far away…

Because I’m sick of the same scene, and all the nothing in between.

I would hitch a ride to a place with lots of open space… fields of cool blue grasses, and tall iced drinks that are famed for kicking even the most seasoned drunks asses.

Because when one drink just wont do surely there is enough for me to have two.

Sweet Release

In the eye of a child you can see a snowflake for the first time, and in the eye of my grandfather I saw one for the last time.

One time… that is all it takes… to understand the delicacy of our very being. The way the wind carries us from one place to the next when we are made of ice and stardust.

I see your once well loved soul whose wheel has stopped spinning and feet that have turned to rust… and I want to, NO! I need to BREATHE life back into you.. let you see my mind’s eye… let the healing of my love and laughter lift you-

Altruism may seem silly to some, and that’s fair.. but I see these souls as deeply deaf and dum. I offer you a solution to the polution of your empty head… come find some rare peace nestled neath the surface… give me sweet release. I surrender… no more the pretender.


Gather ye Rose Buds where ye may….

I think we should talk today… I have a lot, and I mean a lot on my mind and so much I want to say.

I’m sad this morning because last night I was reminded of what my potential was or should have been. Another reminder that I had squandered 10 years of my purpose.

What did Tori say? My scream got lost in a paper cup? Yea. I feel you, girl.  Except I screamed. I screamed a lot. I just gave in to every silly little feeling, and in the end it didn’t amount to much.. and hurt a lot.

I’m smarter than that. I’m stronger than that. Spinning my wheels. Wasn’t really living. Now, I want to seize the gift the universe is giving.

I shared a peice of our little puzzle with the world last night. It didn’t come out the way I wanted.. I had this thought that if I could just… tell it out… it would come out right.

It didn’t really move anyone, the way I think it should. I didn’t deliver it the way I could.

I’m not giving up. I threw my scream in Tori’s paper cup.  And I will trade it for a sirens’ call… that is the theme, afterall.

I wish you had seen the whole thing… the place that felt like a home I had lived in once before I stayed up 1000 nights … chasing away bad dreams, and turning out the night lights.

There was a girl named Kat with a pretty smile, such a shy girl, who played a beautiful guitar badly, and sang off key… but the song she chose- spoke to me.

And a pixie whose name escapes me, spoke of lost love, of hardship, of poverty… and danced to a song I have played in my bed… recalling the ways you twisted me up in it… and her body moved in a way that seemed compelled by a collective kinetic energy… and I was.. transfixed.

And silly boys wearing their absurdity on their sleeves.. strummed lazily and sang out- their mysogony rang out.

And you will find me there again, it didnt cost very much… but I know me, and I could spend a long while in their company…  Me

the quintessential odd girl, will be there, drawing from my own story and singing a love alive- long after its died.

Hard Hearted Harbinger

There are a few crumbs left on the table. The crumblings of the things we dared to dream, and the sense that we could become more than we seem.

Don’t worry, I can manage them. They have become my new companion.

I didn’t sleep last night, or the night before but when the dawn came… I felt a little less, and did a little more.

I am off searching for second, thicker skin, because all of this, every bit of its aching, endless possibility did me in.

I have no parting words of farewell for you, Harbinger.

Just a simple, I will see you later….