30 September 2012


As larvae, you couldn’t
Couldn’t look at me,
I was disgust, repugnance,
A reason to squirm your face

A reason to slow your pace, and scream
An abomination to your neonate
Revulsion to you,
I cared not.

In my cocoon,
You had no clue I existed,
I spinned my anchor, endlessly working within
Endless days, nights, working to find myself a place
A place in a strange world,
Unstable, unsafe for me, yet I spinned.
After all the spinning,
I felt at home, in my cocoon, my home
But you cut down my leaf and still,
I cared not.

Now I am fully grown, crawled out of my cocoon,
Ready to fly, to feed, to live.
You had to catch me.
With my colorful wings,
A product of sleepless nights,
You dare see me now, you capture me,
Closing me in your palms, your jars
You incarcerate me.
Now I care.

Now I care so much that
I want to break free,
I want to fly.
I have wings.
Let me use them,
Let me fly,
No longer a larva, no longer in my cocoon,
I am a butterfly,
Let me fly.


29 September 2012


Hungry for something you can't have
Ignoring the tell-tale cries of the wind.
Heart beating at maddening pace
searching for already there answers.

No one can feel what you are
Inside of that paralyzed smile.
Each step leads you deeper in
To see the cracks cannot be filled.

You sink up,
You fly down
The heart skips a beat,
Then it stays on one beat for hours,
You smile, You frown
You laugh, You cry

Why is this happening?
The brain crawls out of the head
The heart wants to break the rib-jail
The feet want to move,
The body won't


25 September 2012


When no one is there,
When no one remembers me,
I will be there.
When no one remembers my first step,
When no one remembers my first words,
When no one remembers,
I will be there.
When no one remembers my recital,
When no one remembers my first school day,
When no one remembers,
I will be there.
When no one remembers my first date,
When no one remembers my engagement,
When no one remembers my wedding day,
When no one remembers my anniversary,
I will be there.
When no one remembers my first birth,
When no one remembers my birthday,
When no one remembers the day I die,
I will be there.
I will be there for me,
I will be there when no one remembers.
For me, I will always be there

21 September 2012

WE ATE THE BIRDS by Margaret Atwood

We ate the birds. 
We ate them. 
We wanted their songs to flow up 
through our throats and burst out of our mouths, 
and so,
we ate them. 

We wanted their feathers 
to bud from our flesh. 
We wanted their wings, 
we wanted to fly as they did, 
soar freely 
among the treetops and the clouds, 
nd so we ate them. 

We speared them, 
we clubbed them, 
we tangled their feet in glue,
we netted them, 
we spitted them, 
we threw them onto hot coals, 
and all for love, 
because we loved them. 

We wanted to be one with them. 
We wanted to hatch out of clean, 
smooth, beautiful eggs, 
as they did, back when we 
were young and agile and innocent 
of cause and effect, 
we did not want the mess of being born,
and so we crammed the birds 
into our gullets, 
feathers and all, 
but it was no use, 
we couldn’t sing, 
not effortlessly as they do, 
we can’t fly, 
not without smoke and metal, 
and as for the eggs we don’t stand a chance. 

We’re mired in gravity, 
we’re earthbound. 
We’re ankle-deep in blood,
and all because we ate the birds,
we ate them a long time ago, 
when we still had the power to say no.

Margaret Atwood