Morgan street mourning...

i'm trying to move from this
i'm trying to take a step ahead
but my mind reverts back to it again and again-
i breathe deep and exhale
the sound of a million cigarettes rattling in my chest-
finding that the heat has left my cunt and moved into my face

i'm telling myself it's good to purge
empty out the vats that are full of her-
one by one
i empty the memory that is stored so carefully
placed so delicately
yet severed so abruptly-
i ought to have practice at this
as women have been leaving me since the day i was born
or is it that i have left them?
one way or another i ought to be more practiced at this

at first it was fear-
then it moved to sadness
then to pity-
and i don't say the later lightly-
no one wants to be pitied
no matter how lost or sad they are-

so there's me with all of this
for her
and all the hers before her-
i wake each day wondering if this will be the end of these emotions
i still circulate for her-
herstory tells me that i'm over it with little fixation
but i'd rather reason with these emotions than have them haunt me into the next one
i"ve forgotten what my direction was in my purging
is it coming up or going deeper inside?

some say healing is a process
or a destination

i'd say it's a little of both depending on which way you look for out
my out comes with words
hers and hers before was with absence-
i wonder when i'll succumb to the repetition i've witnessed again and again
isn't that what repetition is?
either learning a lesson really well so that you do it
or so that you don't?
I can't guage where i am in the process of letting go-

So tell me how you are
Standing there
beside me
above me
beneath me

i tell you that is my favorite position-
all of the above
i tell you more about me than you tell me about you
besides the pharmaceutical diagnosis-
who do you sleep with?
What does she want?
what does she dream about when she dares to close her eyes;
the ones that create the monsters
outside the mind that conjures up worse enemies-

sooner than i rise
you tell me you must go
you felt the urge to go somewhere deeper to dream about the wrongs
that your mother has done-

it's a slow day when the woman stays
she's more confused about herself than when she's off in deep thought-
i couldn't tell you what i've done
for there is no response to the needs that drive her-

I lay there wondering if leaving this space is the right thing to do at this moment-
the cigarette smoke is a reminder that the clouds about her head are here to stay-
the sooner i leave the sooner she goes back to her hands
looking for the stars that remind her
that she is part of something bigger
something beautiful
somewhere that she started from long ago-
trying to escape the memory that her star wasn't as bright as the others
she holds that fault in her heart
blaming no one else but the seed that she derives from
that she should have been born a brighter star
without the shadow of the constellations that surround her-

she takes my hand in hers
that are full of me
and my place
and she tells me
it's not going to work
this..
her..
and me..
she steadies her other hand around the small circle that will one day claim her again
to be damned by the dis-ease
again and again...

The window I climbed through...

I'm meeting you today for the first time in weeks to talk
talk about what?
talk about what happened-
what will happen-
and what can't happen

Earlier I was cleaning and this moth thats been inside for days- that i tried to save
that kept flying away
Finally lay dead on the floor-
I thought to myself
Like a moth to the flame-
Like this moth to the slowest of deaths-
I picked it up and threw it away and thought
Only if..
Only if it would have let me wrap it up in my hands and carry it outside
I wouldn't be here now throwing it away in the uncivilized garbage can that sits by the most unnatural environment for it to sleep in
But it was and
it did
And i had no control
other than to let it be
just the way it needed to be-
With that end i thought
about another end
that soon will be
between us-

The time away has made me realize that i can't drive you away from yourself
I can't drive the voices out of your head and replace it with mine
soft and slow-
I can keep the razors that slice the mind that you call skin
but that doesn't stop you from getting more
and more-
I can't keep you high on me
and on top of me
to make you feel all right
and i can't take away the shape of your eyes
so that you stop being persecuted
by the ghosts and the parents who left you
again and again-
I can't take away the drug that keeps things hazy for you
more complete, less painful..
No, I can't take away the addictions that you have
for love-
I thought I could be all these things for you

To you
But now i know that i can't-
and now i know that it's gonna take something bigger
something you can only find within the walls of your darkest moments-
There on the sharp edge of the metal you put to your skin
There on the end of the cigarette you smoke
There on the tip of your tongue
and on the tip of your pen
There on the tip of your breast
and your clit
There in your eyes that see the world in their own way
There inside the voice in your head
There inside the high you've taken from yourself
There inside the drink that makes you sick time and time again
There inside the voice of the woman coming from your speakers
There inside your fear-

That's where you will find the answers
Completely with or without me-

Just do this for me
Don't hate yourself for this
Don't inflict on yourself what the world already inflicts on you
Give into the voice that's still gentle inside of you-
My war on these lands ends with a truce
I have nothing to give that hasn't already been shown
My ammunition only works on Colombian soil
Your Korean soil needs something more like seeds than ammunition-

I won't forget what it is about you that draws me in
and i won't let you run from me with all my emotions on your back
I will carry myself safely to the shores of my knowing
and wait for you to come to the senses that you've inherently got-
growing comfortable inside your skin
Something I had to do in the darkness without the light of a lovers' watchful eye
But with her smell and the shadow beside me just the same-

I have to keep on moving on
But i'm not very far from your side
We will walk parallel from each other
Breathing separate air
yet forever tied to this adopted life...

Women's Rhythm

Walking home i went down the stairs to the field that leads to my house
when i was reminded of you laughing when we got together that one day in the park
You told us there were 69 stairs-
we laughed at you
and said that can't be right
Why would they have stopped at 69 and not 70?
You said
"I'm telling the truth"

when we got done drumming our souls out
purging some small bit of music we had left in us from the week before-
we climbed the stairs with our drums on our heads laughing about how crazy you were
and how all it took was one beer to get you goin'
but Norma and I knew it had nothing to with the beer
you were just crazy, that's all-

we counted the stairs and surely there were exactly 69 steps up to the lovers that waited
for us at home-
Those were some of the best times-
you, me and Norma in the park
playing together
playing alone
playing something out of tune with the noise someone else was beating out-

Today i walked down those stairs-
it's been a while since we all got together to play-
Like clockwork I counted every step as I descended-
69 steps there was
leading me to the love that was waiting for me at home-
Even though i was on my own- it felt ok

When i got close to the bottom there was 20 or so crickets flying about my feet-
it reminded me of the rhythms that once filled my ears in this space-
I smiled as I was counting-
thinking to myself
How much I miss your laugh...

My religion...

I listen as if I'm waiting to hear him say something important-
I wait
but he rarely says anything that's worth remembering or even really worth listening to-
How do I tell her not to listen to me
The way I listen to him...

Lesbian Pulp Fiction...

Sweet and bitter
Something she says she said-

Where do we got to get away from the fabricated chaos that is filling the air ways of our lives?
If this is the reality of you and me and them and theirs
Then what's going on with me here
Does it just happen when you're fucking a woman?
Tell me it's not so-
I'd like to believe that I'm evolving into a lovely, mature, thought consumed woman with a mind of good intent
Not some psycho babbling nut case with a vengeance wanting nothing more than to skew the minds of clueless girls who don't know what it's like to live the life of a gifted bisexual-

Time and time again I look back on the girl's I've loved and I wonder
Jesus what has happened to the one I love?
She's tossing and turning,
dripping with the gossip of last night's screw
with the 3x12 dildo.
I swear the number of quality girls is at an all time low
I don't know if I ought to blame the "Dr. Phil's" or the mothering, fucking bossy pants bitches who claim they are every woman and don't have to read between the lines of all the self help books that fill their libraries at home-

When did the self-deceiving habits come to the surface and dictate the whole woman in the women's movement?
Was I washing my hair or did I get left out in the cold on the antics of how to be a sister to all of us conditionally?
I have looked and seen the misguided intentions of the prettiest girls who had the value of a washed up peso-
Back stabbing, cheating, misnomer starting queers.

I'm looking for my princess whose got the dress,
the attitude
and learned how to swim after the boat sank-
Not the one whose got one hand on her exe's back and the other on her mascara tube.
Lesbian fascination is brighter than a sunny day
But I wear a lot of protection in case the rain falls...

the days of luna...

the road kicks up dust from past loves'
it settles to the side of the road as i speed through to the open space
i see her body as lit by two aromatic candles
i connect the smells to her body
i connect her to the light
from her breast i look up into the eyes that reflect the love that shines from my own
she blinks
and i smile into the back of her closed eyes
i smile-
into the back of her eyes-
she's got her daddy's smile
and she's got her mama's sweet voice
she's got me to love her
and the world to ponder about
i'm on a lover's high
not a damn thing besides her in my head
i'm flying through the cloudy days that are all around me
and i'm smiling
smiling
because i've got an image of a brown girl in my wallet and
a heavy heart in my chest...

A permanent resident called me...

So they are asking me to prove that i am me
Prove that i am a part of this gravy train-
This society that i never agreed to be a part of
other than in forced language
and consumption-
I am angered
and insulted
and pissed the hell off
that you don't recognize your own writing-
That you don't see your own claim to me
And my identity-

Look at the letters that spell ME, you coward, how do they represent who i was born to be?
How is it that i can spend 26 years fattening the pockets and making your ugly, white man
Richer by the moment
but you can act like you don't know me when you want to flex your imperialist, impotent muscle?
How is that?
It could have been a little easier had your delivery been more respectful
But one day you told me who i was going to be and how i was going to act
and then you mixed me up with someone whose only goal was to destroy your accomplishments-

White man, you've made me a stranger at my own door-
Wait, you say
Please come back for more tomorrow, our immigrant office is located on the back road that doesn't have lights or signs
And be sure to bring all the desire of materialistic consumption with you-
Do you have any friends we could talk to?
We're sure there's something we could sell their innocent, ignorant senses. If not, then we are still looking for a house maid- maybe we could work something out...

Yes, your appointment is at 2pm and you'll have to prove to us just who you are-
Are you the person that matches the name on our list?
if so,
where are your papers that prove you were invited to this party?
Did you know that the Indians were friends with the Pilgrims?

Oh, I'm sorry, we're going to have to with hold what we promised you until you match up to the stereotype we've cleverly assigned you; Dick, Donald and Carl
Oh, stop thinking this is some sort of interrogation-
it is nothing short of that
We just need you to show us how American you are- you aren't a part of any groups we should be aware of, are you?
You've lost your language and your inherent ability to count coca leaves- what do you think of the School of America's- isn't it brilliant?!
and you must not come from that place you call home if you don't subscribe to the subservient ideals of the women there
and you sure as hell don't count if you don't drink coffee,
My God, what would Juan say?!
So, what kind of new made American from Colombia are you Miss Tang-guy? or is that Tang-gee? My, that sure doesn't sound American...

White man..
You've taken my roots and colored them red, white and blue
You've taken my colorful tongue and fed it spam
You've taken my vision of me and skewed it around your agenda of terrorists
and now-
Now you ask me to prove that I match the name and the taste in your mouth
and you deny me anything that borders on common decency-
What the FUCK is that?
Darling, you say-
That is America...

9.3.02