Thursday, December 14, 2017

The Prize

Everything happens for a reason.

It is Fate.

It is God's Will.

It is Allah.

It is Krishna.

It is Mother Nature.

It is the Cosmos at Work.

It is the Fate Of The Gods.

It is the Will of the God's.

The list of "Reasons" that 

"Explain" the inexplicable

is endless.

I am tired of hearing it.

What if I told you I believe there

is no Order? 

Now what if I told you 

in the same breath

there is no Chaos?

I am thinking of telling you

there is nothing but connection

in this life. 

And that

one's human experience is

an expression of their set of

connections and nothing more.

Yes, what if I told you that?

Should I consider the cell phone

in my hand a barrier to my human

experience or as the primary connection in

my human experience?

Is there a threshold of connection

beneath which one is no longer

experiencing humanity? What about

an upper limit? 

What if dark matter is the existence

of the outcomes of all experience

sorted out and redistributed through

vibration after vibration until it

reaches a stage of complete uniformity

of sameness

and it hovers around us because

it is attracted to our imbalanced


Becoming dark matter may be

where all are finally equal

finally comfortable

finally fit in

Maybe relaxing into uniformity

of connection

of potential

is just as important to this reality

as struggling 

and fighting one another

for the the prize we have


is the light


what if

the dark matter is hovering

around us and can't wait

until the day we are all comfortable

all at peace

what if they have been waiting

for us to change

so they can at last form the larger

fabric of a new 

natural experience

instead of waiting 

while we keep pulling it apart?

What if it is sad for dark matter

that we fight so hard against it

because it knows what we do not

that it is good

that it is comfort

that it is neccessary

to become our next state

Maybe it is destructive

and exhausting

to every system

to absorb

our needless pain.

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

A Discount Piece

I buy things I can't afford

to wear places I'll never go

to meet people I'll never know.

My impracticality sits

just close enough to practical

that I can get lost for hours

planning for the improbable.

Unlike engaging in social issues,

political issues, romantic pursuits,

or personal health, the act of curating

my alternate-future wardrobe

allows me to pretend

that I'm productive

that I'm getting somewhere

that I can buy solutions

one discount piece at a time.


Sunday, December 10, 2017

Without Water


An ocean

without water

can be said to be

neither deep

nor shallow

An ocean without water

becomes its extents

its limits

An ocean without water.




(*Reposts, c. 2013)

*Safe Enough At Last To Weep

under a wide tree in the sun,

i realize

this is my life's pause,

the place where i have waited for you,


now you are here.

i am no longer haunted.

safe enough
at last
to weep.


*Towards the Sun

wrap my mouth with partner's silk
spun through years of longing

keep me safe and honor me
but spare me no hard thing

will during times of fire
drought and isolation
that i have known enough of life without you

what is before us comes imperfect
shifting desire
love conserved

yet ours / beset by frailty / held onto

finally there is no one better
you discover i am more
and enough

give what is left with boldness
because at last
it is the least you would do 
to deserve me.

----Suzy Devere

Friday, December 8, 2017

Abuse of History

I am a woman who has been taught

her History will never

be named.


To care about any of it...

my work, my Art, it just seems

too dangerous. It's almost like...

I've been trained through trauma

not to be productive? Not to create

anything I care about?  Trained to believe 

that if I dare 

make something I feel is important

it will be all my fault when it gets 

me nowhere?

And, of course, it will get me nowhere.

History has gone to great lengths to prove 

this: All I can expect of my future is what 

has happened in my past.

Abuse does that. 

Lays out rules for existing that are 

are highly unusual, strangely specific, 

and often include unspoken words between


The more History we are exposed to, the 

more we understand the general rules 

of existance, and that they never apply to

us. We try not to ask why, as the more we 

ask, the less general our experience


It is abuse masquerading as History

that has taught me "my place,"

to "know better," to know the limits

of my freedom, and to know what will 

happen if I do not accept it.

I have internalized the idea that making 

anything is futile...that who and what I

am is unworthy

of respect

of protection

of remembering



that my History 

will never be named

and is better off



I look at my new computer 

with trepidation and remove.

Think of my Art and remember 

how little anyone ever understood

or cared.

Remember how hard I worked, how much

I believed, only to be

...told to watch cooking shows and

make my video "funny"?

...told to get rid of the "Grandma in

a cardboard box" portion of my 

equality demands an affordable death /

death should be free

Hospice project?

...told that the honor of being buried in a 

special cemetary is part of what motivates 

men to die for their country?

...told to make the box "anthropomorphic"?

...then told nothing at all but 9 months

later see, in my small town, a huge sign

a billboard off the side of the road by the 

mall:  An image of a soldier in camo 

holding a small cardboard box, honoring a 

fallen brother, advertising---and 


...told to play footsies at lunch in NYC

by an old man ◇ART♧ NEWS

an old man with the power

to make or break me as an Artist

◇he broke me as a woman♧

made me no longer want 

a career in anything, especially Art

...told in order to enter my work to be 

considered for an Art grant I had to put 

black boxes over every instance of my name

in every single frame of a huge digital art 

project, a project entirely

about Identity

No, I don't look at my new computer with

the affection or appreciation

its parts deserve.

I look at it as a possible playboy.

Suspect it could take all my time,

emotion, energy, even love...and share

it with others. Hurt me with it.

Make me the butt of some

cruel joke. Gaslight me. Make me feel

I am losing my mind...again.

Because only the why could ever

explain what I have been trained.

Without that, trying my hardest 

does not feel safe.


Monday, December 4, 2017


don't take the prompts

do recognize the threats

be plenty aware

but don't revert

to habits built by war

in peace

know what creature comforts are worth

but don't guard insignificant things

with significant effort

when surrounded by water

think surf

not lobster screams and drowning

lock the door

don't sleep with your purse

be afraid of strangers who

know enough about you to

give unsolicited advice

don't befriend a pan handler to

prove you're a liberal

do give him your leftovers if his

sign says he's "hungry"

Basically, don't be weirder

than the weird shit happening

all around you

and for God's sake

don't relive the worst days

and cry and shiver in the dark

Remember to be better

than they would ever think you are

Miss no thing

Mourn no loss

Say the least

when you know

the most

Be confident

and let the other guy sweat it

this time.


Sunday, December 3, 2017

Comfort In Purpose

In the forced kindness

of Snow to Sun, 

there is a lesson.


is it...

Make the best quality

of what will eventually kill you


magnify its every beauty,

as only that part

of the thing 


worth dying




and maybe...

will also be that part

of yourself

made most evident

to the experience

of others.




but it's a little

less simple

than that.



Saturday, November 25, 2017


flat sea of


blank screen


why ask

what I can do

for my country

when I can ask

nothing at all?


Saturday, November 18, 2017

Slow Ivory

in honor of 

all animals

who experience

death slowly

no clock 

or watch

or sun dial

will be their master

no violence will


their experience

the slowness


liminal space


--a margin

  of last reflection

--internal privacy

we die slowly



is unfit

to carry




Sunday, November 12, 2017

Never Be Safe

A two-headed arrow

with frozen toes on phantom limbs

navigating an infinity that grasps nothing


until one day...

I wrap




until one day...

you wrap around 


××××× life's Pause,

where I have waited for you

always(?) enough

at last

to weep(?)


I can remember writing those words

it was the night you came back

although you never did

and the relief I felt.

sometimes I say"if only I had known"

and then I say"thank God I had no idea"


I will never be



Sunday, November 5, 2017


I am an elephant

climbing a tree 

in order to sit with birds.


Sunday, October 29, 2017

The Deer and The Crow

Unrequited love is a misnomer. It ought to be called something much more appropriate and grim. And stories associated ought to speak plainly of death. I will write a children's fable, a fairytale warning. My illustrations will be of deer chasing birds off cliffs.


Fatal Pledge

Having mistaken birds as their true loves, a number of deer plummet to their deaths. These unwitting acts of suicide reflect no redeeming qualities, and no pretense of loyalty is awarded from bird to deer. The death of the deer is not glamorized.

Graphic images throughout. The final page features a splattered deer on the valley floor, with a carefree bird flying overhead.

What shall I call It?

The Doe and The Eagle
The Stag and The Raven
The Fawn and The Robin
The Stag and The Eagle
The Doe and The Robin
The Fawn and...



The Deer and...

                   Anything With Wings


Saturday, October 28, 2017

Greece (Is Everywhere)

Clear as day / no day dream / more real than a nightmare / how many / children / have been hidden in those caves? / down by the port / smuggled at night / waiting for days / to be taken to some new hell?

I can describe the water / how it soaks their legs / the light deep inside / the sounds that echo / the smell of salt and anxiety / the men with guns / who know more languages than the police

there is nothing but despair / fantasy / drugs make it better / the only other escape / death

dangerous space / clear as day / no daydream / more real than a nightmare /

I / leave Greece / wake up safe / thankful to be alone in my bed / my drawer of clean / underwear / nobody else's business / lucky / to feel so far away / from that / terror / horror / deafening weight of thick air / enclosing voiceless screams /

sanity offers denial / transient safety / but realities travel / miseries / victories / conquerors / travel / for business / not pleasure / any reality / one twist away / this "Greece" is everywhere


Tuesday, October 24, 2017

On Dying

Someday, when you are less,

you will wish you would have loved me more

when you were more, too.


Lies Feel Like You

Every time I think about you / make myself think / every time I think about you / about you / how you didn't love me more / didn't want me more / wouldn't give up a thing for me / oh Lord/ 

every time I think / think about how you felt to me / oh Lord / make myself think about / how lies feel / make myself think about / how lies feel like you / 

Every time I think / how lies feel / I think / lies feel like / you / make myself / think / about how lies feel / think lies feel just like you


Sunday, October 22, 2017


Many women have asses better than mine, legs longer and leaner, and minds less demanding. Hey, I get it. I'm work. I have cellulite and political questions. At the moment, I'm poor. I want monogamy and emotion. And I don't understand lies or long-term casual sex THANK YOU. 

THANK YOU for taking your shitty excuses and shallow conversations away from me. If you are more interested in an easy life than my honest love, it's better this way.


Above: Acoustic (one song)
Lyrics context "Love" = Love-As-A-Verb.

Acoustic Live set for BBC
Inarguable full-on talent. 

Various clips, live.
(Home 2 Mama @ 6:35)

Tuesday, October 17, 2017



DEATH FOR TRUTH: I was living in Spain when the Panama Papers came out. I thought they would change the world, that the amount of detailed information (not just data) would create a swell of opposition amongst "every day people" around the world. You tell me: What did the Panama Papers mean to average Americans? What do they mean, now?

...because I learned ---before the Panama Papers and from dark experiences--- that "seeing" does not equal change / that digging into the possible causes and meanings of what one "sees" is required for change and can be, and often is, personally dangerous / and that people without very strong family or professional support are at a huge disadvantage when it comes to confronting corruption.

Ms. Galizia, the journalist killed in Malta today, had the support of 400,000 people, as well as a husband and adult children. Despite all this, she was still unable to remain physically safe. She paid with her life for believing in fairness, honesty, and civility.

QUESTION: Who is *allowed* to even *approach* the deep causes of the average citizen's increasing disempowerment, if being armed with accurate information, a supportive immediate family, and the support of the majority of citizens in your country is not enough to keep you safe?


Monday, October 16, 2017

The Conversion(s)

Every instance
a generation

and the other (units)
become available
in foreign terms

but some go quietly

secret places
free of definition

when I feel
I am energy and stasis
chaos and calm

don't believe in Analog
as absolute

don't believe NOW is
the first translation

don't believe Digital
is taking all of me

overlaps are like
saturation points

so much loaded
all terms break

escape reorganization
cry and laugh
be noise

be free




Sunday, October 8, 2017

Heaven Sobs To See Me Wait

I let it be / I wait my turn / there's no line for real love, though / I let it pass / It doesn't matter / not what I remember / that's what I can't forget / why I'm leaving

I'll still be standing / but I'll stop waiting / in a line / know I'm better than  that / but I'm so scared / that this hopeless waiting / is the only hope I have / waiting in line to talk to you / so you can tell me / you love someone else / oh, heaven sobs to see me wait / heaven's begging / says "Give yourself a gift and walk away." / 

Why's that cherub's eyes so / empty? 


Friday, October 6, 2017

american 02 american h20 american dream

some americans 
live asleep
 without dreaming 

some americans are 
awake and
of (potable) water
of a living wage
of affordable and accessible 
public transportation
of free dental care
of free medicine
of citizenship
of safety

i sell dishwashers
and live with my mother
not sure if that makes me awake or asleep

...i'm alive
of my american dream

(breathe in, breathe out, american oxygen)


Sunday, October 1, 2017

No Wash Will Stop The Pain

One day, on a not too distant morning, you will wake up and smell me...on your pillow, in your sheets, through your most sensual memories. You will wash the sheets. You will wash the sheets again with vinegar. You will change the sheets. You will buy new sheets. You will tell yourself you are imagining things, and then buy a sachet filled with lavendar and place it under your pillow all the same. 

Every night you will dream that something indescribable and warm is lost. You will instantly forget the dream. Morning after morning you will wake feeling sad. You will wake with your soul feeling gray. Even before you open your eyes. Even though you don't know why.

You will tell yourself I am nothing special. You will try countless times to believe it, but your heart will argue, and you will continue to smell me, even between your other lovers' legs. 

Confused about why you can't forget me, you will remember an old message I once sent, with a link that you never followed.

You will scroll back through all of our saved text messages---conversations you will never delete---and eventually you will find the link. Instead of the poem of love and sated flesh I sent, the link now leads you here...

to this vodoo-level-future-forecast of what will happen to our love if you keep refusing to go deep. It takes all of the pain you have been experiencing for you to recognize that you f-e-e-l love for me.

Now is when you will want to stop reading, start over, and be in love! But it has already happened. And you finally understand. These are the words that will break your heart.



Friday, September 29, 2017

A Puppet's Job

Untie these strings 
So long threaded through
My wooden limbs

Big Hands ---bigger than mine---
Been pulling on me
Too long

Tuggin' on me too hard
And it hurts

I'm going to run away tonight
Leave this traveling Punch-n-Judy 

Where knots won't let me free
Tonight in the dark

Maybe I owe everything I am
To the Big Hands

Maybe I won't get far

But isn't it the job of
Every puppet
To try?


Monday, September 25, 2017

Complimentary, Not Clone

I will not be made into

a woman whose every pursuit

becomes one in which her husband

is an expert.

I will not race to prove

my speed to a man...

any man.

And I will not ride

to earn a man's respect,

even a husband's.

What kind of life

is it when one must

spend every energy

learning how to

become a female


of the man who claimed

he loved her?

All Animals

(c. 2000)

My son,

a deep thinker,

has body language

that never gives him away.

I will never forget 

the first time I noticed

how different from the other kids 

he looked.

We were visiting the 

Central Park Zoo.

It was a typical zoo day,

 loud and chaotic,

yet he was completely relaxed,

and content, as if all of us

---screaming babies, wild toddlers, busy parents, and captive animals---

were in his living room.

Magenta beret, low and tipped to one side,

navy romper with a white collar and

 yellow stars, his favorite purple booties...

My boy,

despite the stroller's 

seat-back being entirey upright,

had his legs draped accross 

the stroller's

front tray.

With his ankles crossed lazily,

bottle in hand,

he sat,


To him, 

we were all



To me, we still are.


Sunday, September 24, 2017

Negative Space

my eyes turn images /
upside down / magnify rips / tears / bring depth / this is where my mind breaks / i see your thin offerings / turn them to add  / add connections to neurons /  that bloat my brain's thin lines / for you /

add humor to lines of cruelty / add patience to dismissal / connect colour to this drab palate / 

i add / and bind / where i am / broken /  i am blind / to your / negative space



Thursday, September 21, 2017


the leaves have turned and the air is cold
the fat waddle all about me, dressed in less
because they are fat
and warm
but i shiver
blue hands and lips while they walk with no 
and it reminds me that i am fragile and 
my wild tongue chopped off so i can live in this conservative
place with people who think jews are evil
or at the very least misguided
who think women are stupid and weak and make no sense
so when i give instructions they make me repeat myself at least twice
at least twice
and then pretend they've still no idea what i'm talking about but
really they are just too stupid to understand i know more about what is possible in
their jobs than they do but i am a girl so that never occurs to them
surrounded by people who think that mexico is just a dirty place with no culture
and Frida Kahlo is a movie and books about art are for the pretentious
as who would ever actually read those 
i read those i pour over those i read poetry and classics and contemporary and look at
images too and unlike them i'm not afraid of punks with blue hair or the occasional mohawk
not that there is ever more than one in town and not that he / she ever lasts very long here
i know how
to square dance and slam dance and think it would be fun to be in a place where i could do both 
every day i hold my breath and try to survive (not live, just survive) till the moon pops up
again i stare at the moon and stars while i lay in my bed in my tiny, tiny room
and i hope that i can make it through another night and day
and i wonder what it is that makes me so wretched no one has ever wanted to hold me
for long wonder what it is that makes others leave me and never come back except to torment me with cruel jokes or invite me to buy their books / records / come to 
their weddings or just maybe say "congratulations" to their new wives
such a monster i am a bundle of 
tears from being untouched, unhugged, unheld

alone in this place where everyone is one of two and i am one of 
and i am so very

i feel i could crack in half
it is too much sometimes to bear

and maybe i was put on this earth
to make others feel
they are not unloved and strange like

(written years ago, date unknown)


Tuesday, September 12, 2017

Picture of (My) Youth

I worked at Tiffanys

---that Tiffany's---

on the second floor,

in the Silver Department,

Customer Service.

I wanted to be a writer and

an actress.

I lived with nuns,

in the Village.


Monday, September 11, 2017

Better IRL

This song has been in my head all morning. I can't tell you why. Never was a fan of Bruce until the summer of my 40th birthday. Staying in London and a friend was headed out to his concert there in the park, backstage passes, the whole nine yards. But I had a date, and hadn't planned on going with her. She left. My date called and cancelled. A few minutes later my friend was back, shouting for me to come! Turned out they had another ticket! She had no idea my date had cancelled.

Soon I was there, in the heart of it, and understood only then WHY they call him "The Boss." And why some people, some connections, some energies, can only be FELT IN REAL LIFE.

Now whenever I think about a masterpiece of art that has only been experienced through a photo, or a person who has only been introduced through social media, or a lover who has not let himself love with abandon or without expectation...I think of Bruce, and how being there changed me.


Sunday, September 10, 2017


turn my neck

push my pelvis

tilt my head

establish my stance

center my stare

wait for retreat

no, not mine

in this picture

doubts back up

i stay

right where i am


Saturday, September 9, 2017

Fountain Pen

Water can be rain

can wear the stone


and smell

of summer

Or a river

wear the stone


a silk hand

and everpresent touch

Or pour through pressure

a single source


give dry land life


 the pen

of the universe



into images

only its





Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Mind Of A Passenger

In imagining my future

I draw a blank.

This does not frighten me.

Non-Local Base Training.

It informs me

that at least right now,

I have no business pretending

to have access to anything,

or anywhere,

to anyone,

except this...

and by one





If you feel like it,

feel free 

to close your eyes

and fill in my



Friday, September 1, 2017

Poor Sport

How many times

have I tried

to stack my nickels

atop the tip of

a thin...


Ha ha! to laugh

does not make

bank, but at least

this comedy is



Wednesday, August 30, 2017

On Mars

you are about to fade away

like the superamerica sign in my rear view mirror
far away
mars far

disinterest not to make you hot
disinterest because i don't
sit at home alone like this

pull the ropes

remind me mine is
a life i haven't shared
in years

it is not safe for me here

i say nothing of it

encourage you
to do your thing

you act like you're going to
you keep
glancing over to see
if i will break

haven't bothered to tell you
i will be on mars

i am already

Orig. Posted 04.24.11

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Straight Talk

Tell me a joke.

Entertain me.

Don't be a bore.

I know  this won't happen,

what I cannot figure out is why.

Am I really so difficult to please?

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Either way,

I have got to stop wasting my time.


Monday, August 28, 2017

Texting Sucks

I am not your mother.

Dating is not camp.

Men need to stop acting like

each of their texts is eagerly awaited,

like they are writing home.

I mean it.

No more texts!

I don't want to see a picture

of your beer, or your friends,

or your boat, or your dog.

If you want me to see those things,

stop being a jerk and invite me.

Radical, I know, but the logic works.

Except if you are taking these pics

while on another date...and yes, I do


And no more sexts.

I don't want to see a picture

of your dick, no matter how

hot I think you are.

(Or thought you were.)

I want to make love,

not read about it.

I want to be your girlfriend,

not approve your editorial.

The iphone has ruined erotica,

and dating, for me.



The Rub of Disrespect

Wanting to
as a way to
someone to
is the surest
this person
will never
care for you
at all.


Friday, August 25, 2017

Tuesday, August 22, 2017

Bedtime Story

this pairing / our pattern particular /

we become / bird's-eye bedroom chladni /

Monday, August 21, 2017


Ready to make the dark 
a place I share

It is one of the most
electrifying places
I know

Can't count all the 
steps and systems
that must be willed
to coordinate
to get where I go

Skin and self
invert to encompass

Finally ready to
let go and synchronize

Now to find a man
strong enough
deep enough
in control enough
to stay connected
as we turn with each other
inside out

and back again

as often as we choose

make the spaces

of all states


seem endless

intricately magnificent

find a man who will

keep (us)(me)


Ready to make the dark
a place I share

Find a man who can

get close enough

to take me somewhere



Sunday, August 20, 2017


little messages in

saved words 

spilled from

my own

old wounds

In key moments

when i feel i will never

be seen in this world

The Anonymous Librarian

pulls up

my own history

purposefully leaves me 

fresh paths

to related stacks

The Anonymous Librarian

winks with URL's

smiles in stats

says "i see you"

and "i remember

when you were there

before" and

"don't cry wolf,

you've got this" 

and sometimes even 

"he's not worthy

of you"

Dear Anonymous Librarian

thank you


Friday, August 18, 2017

Spectacle Surround

Pick the shiny penny

Swing from the brightest

You can't help it
I know you can't see
the beauty of me

burlap--no bustle--baby
buried in the crowd
My glow don't show through

Close my eyes and let it all pass
Carnival cosmos spins but

I've got a secret:
They're hidden in
They're hidden
They're...only in my eyes...

I've got a secret!

So swing your star
and roll your change

I'm a groundling
burlap--no bustle--baby
buried in the crowd
My glow don't show through

peaceful swim
eyes closed
shimmy through the overlaps
hidden in these
I'm a burlap baby
hidden in my eyes

I've got a secret.


Sunday, August 13, 2017

I Am More Than Someone Else's Ugly

I deserve.

Morning light that makes waking up early feel like a magical secret, moonlight on the water that bounces up onto my cheeks and makes me feel beautiful, birds with glorious, colourful feathers who land nearby and break the space back into 4 dimensions, rocky road from the greatest place and in the biggest mother-fucking cup, a genuine man who loves me with an open heart, and oh...sooooo much more.

I deserve to be read slowly.


Saturday, August 12, 2017

Vulnerability and Blood

I cannot begin to tell you how I know, but I know; we are all inconsequential when not woven deep into the fabric of our humanity.

Vulnerability and blood. These are the only things that distinguish we humans...anymore.




Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Five Lands

feel my flesh come back while the ties
to my memories come undone under each one of your fingertips


Thursday, August 3, 2017

The Opulence of Escape

when it is time to 
ignore all but the 
beauty of dreams

i need only a moment