Wednesday, March 14, 2012

pandora picks aaliyah


this song
takes me back
to what seems now like youth into saturn return
and you
and that crappy old car radio with the broken cassette
and all that washboard
and all that open space
and all that dust kicking up into our skin
into that tiny mountain cabin
candles burning hot we would fuck like the earth was opening
then primp for the bar in the flickering light
while the radio crackled and hissed
pop songs
drove steep dirt roads in the night
you kept a baseball bat behind your seat
you held my hips while i danced
this song takes me back
to need heavy
old as the hills butch femme
lust
damage
and revenge
and that old truck that broke your arm
you kept a rag stuffed into the hole where the gas cap shoulda been
you had to the hit the starter with a metal pipe to get it to turn over
i loved watching you pop the hood climb in there and beat that engine
made me wanna turn you over take you back
you pulled femme shine from my stone
like brilliant cholla flowers from santa fe sun

like prayer under my breath
i still ask
for your forgiveness
for my own anger made my breaking drove
our screeching
what i’ve learned from us
how i’ve changed
how together we were fumes and flame
combustion
but also climbed into the woods and sat
in wild silence
watched spiders spin webs
laughed at bird song

but you
like aaliyah
are gone now
just memories and spirit
kicking up like dust once
in while when music takes me unawares
turns me over
takes me back
like saturn returning
to you.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

where there's smoke

4 years ago today he kissed me
just up and kissed me after years
of shouldn’t or couldn’t it was right
there for the taking
taken
after years of almost hot enough
living mouths of desire
still now
when we kiss,
fire.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

haunt.

During a recent unwell stint, stuck in bed, i watched way too much of a show called Being Human (uk!). i’ve been thinking about the character annie, who was a ghost. she was bound, more or less, to the house she died in and her situation rang so true for me and my quiet life. the way that sometimes, if the circumstances were just right, she could be seen by the living. sometimes only by mediums and always by super naturals like vampires and werewolves. I liken this to how occasionally if i’m well enough and the circumstances are just right I can be in the world. move through the public like a normal person.
be seen.
spoken to.
touched.
how more often than not the people i can spend time with, because they are accessible, are other crips.
the supernatural. they are the ones that get it. they understand difference and isolation.

while i’ve been dealing with ei/chronic illness and access for over a decade and a half now, i’ve felt more and more like a ghost in this last year. I've been so unwell, especially since the house flooded last winter. The city, my house and my neighbors have all become too much for me. people know i’m around but never see me. or see me briefly. My crip lover that i live with plays the medium, he always sees me and is often the conduit to the rest of the world.

annie struggled with having a purpose in the world. feeling useful. she made endless cups of tea that she couldn’t drink. when she could be seen by humans she relished in the experience.
in being kind and helpful.  in laughter.
but mostly she rattled around the house she died in. waiting. scheming ways to connect.
sometimes succumbing to the non-life she was living.
just staring out windows.
waiting.

but thing is, i’m not a ghost. haven’t died yet.
not.
dead.
yet.
and believe me i know dead people. i know their ether. their reach.
and ghosts. ghosts are roaming haunting loss.
i want to be more than this. more than loss draped in a good laugh with a keen eye for tricks of light.
i want to feel -here-.
for ghosts there is no recovery.
my blood is moving and recovery is mine to embrace.
i've got shit to say and things to learn. people to touch and love.
supernaturally alive and spitting.

so here's to access eh?
and risk.
to remembering that the struggle to connect is precisely life.
i know this.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

hard times and a bridge

suspending
when i roll over
sun rising
and reach his chest with my waking hands run them
down his body my head resting there
exhaling dreams
inhaling
salt sharp butter sweet
the smooth warmth
of his skin how i read into this his heart
how it thaws me how can i not love him
even more how can i not desire this exact proximity
how can the rush not bring me home to every choice i've made
the choice to continue
breathing
desire bridging
lifes' beautiful rise
for this proximity
is bliss the risk of reaching
for this warmth this smooth summer lake stone
is the heart.

Thursday, December 29, 2011


*picture is a stark open rural new mexico landscape, in the center of the picture is an old wooden roadside sign up high on wooden supports thats says "pigs", along side it runs an barbed wire fence with old wooden posts and off in the distance is a large hill and beyond that is a mountain range.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

navigating pain

On a good day
I get to dance
Just for a minute,
2 minutes is bliss
not like I used to but oh the rhythm and the sway slight
but a ride down a river so sweet
air
has me in her arms
rhythm meets me half way through the fog
grabs me
makes me.

Monday, October 10, 2011

decolonizing 100%

so, i'm realizing one of the (many) evils of facebook is that all this information gets passed around  between myself and folks i'm connected to on that site but never here...so...at the risk of being redundant, but hoping these things might reach more folks, i want to post some links to writings about the "occupy" movement that have really moved me...

Occupy Wall Street: The Game of Colonialism and Further Nationalism to be Decolonized From the “Left”  by Jessica Yee

"...We don’t need more occupation – we need decolonization and it’s everyone’s responsibility to participate in that because COLONIALISM AFFECTS EVERYONE. EVERYONE! Colonialism also leads to capitalism, globalization, and industrialization. How can we truly end capitalism without ending colonialism? How does doing things in the name of “America” which was created by the imposition of hierarchies of class, race, ability, gender, and sexuality help that?"

An Open Letter to the Occupy Wall Street Activists  by JohnPaul Montano

"...I hope you would make mention of the fact that the very land upon which you are protesting does not belong to you – that you are guests upon that stolen indigenous land. I had hoped mention would be made of the indigenous nation whose land that is. I had hoped that you would address the centuries-long history that we indigenous peoples of this continent have endured being subject to the countless ‘-isms’ of do-gooders claiming to be building a “more just society,” a “better world,” a “land of freedom” on top of our indigenous societies, on our indigenous lands, while destroying and/or ignoring our ways of life. I had hoped that you would acknowledge that, since you are settlers on indigenous land, you need and want our indigenous consent to your building anything on our land – never mind an entire society."


A call for economic justice that reflects the occupation of this land, the role of the institution of slavery and immigration 

Susan Raffo

"In 1944, FDR spoke about the meaning of security for "post war" America.  As part of that speech and in response to the growing international focus on human (mostly political) rights, he called out for a "Second Bill of Rights" guaranteeing Economic Rights. These are the rights he suggested:

  • The right to a useful and remunerative job in the industries or shops or farms or mines of the nation;
  • The right to earn enough to provide adequate food and clothing and recreation;
  • The right of every farmer to raise and sell his products at a return which will give him and his family a decent living;
  • The right of every businessman, large and small, to trade in an atmosphere of freedom from unfair competition and domination by monopolies at home or abroad;
  • The right of every family to a decent home;
  • The right to adequate medical care and the opportunity to achieve and enjoy good health;
  • The right to adequate protection from the economic fears of old age, sickness, accident, and unemployment;
  • The right to a good education.
While not all of these were enacted, some, like Social Security, Medicaire and fair mortgage practices, were created. These are the very economic safety nets that the Right is politically working to end. But in 1944, FDR's call was not the only action taking place.

Also in 1944, The National Congress of American Indians (NCAI) a Native American indigenous rights organization, was founded in response to the ongoing termination (otherwise known as genocide) and assimilation policies that the United States forced upon the tribal governments in contradiction of their treaty rights and status as sovereign entities.

1944 is also seen by many historians as the year the Black Civil Rights movement began as Black soldiers returned from fighting in WW II and began to organize. It is when NAACP attorney Thurgood Marshall won Smith v. Allwright in the U.S. Supreme Court guaranteeing that "all-white" primary elections are unconstitutional, a landmark case in demanding Black political voice and Black agency.

1944 is also the year when the federal government ended the internment of Japanese families. It is the year after the US ended the Chinese Exclusion Act but created the Bracero program, a "guest worker" program that brought Mexican families to the US for low wage work without granting the benefits of citizenship.

Economic change in the US has always been directly tied to the history of the occupation of this indigenous land, the histories of the institution of slavery and its ongoing impact, and the histories of immigration and control. Sometimes economic change has benefited the mostly white middle class while largely ignoring those who are poorest or have least access to the political and legal benefits of citizenship. Sometimes economic change has happened precisely because of the political protests of the poorest and those with least access. And large scale economic change has always happened without taking into account the fact that the resources that feed economic health - land and the work that happens on top of that land - are resources taken from stolen land and a continuous history of broken treaties.

Let's do it differently this time."



and then lastly a piece i just read this morning which I believe balances all these conversations just perfectly...
from liberty plaza by Adrienne Maree

"I have been in movement spaces for a long time, and we have a way of doing things which is so steeped in critique that I have often wondered if we would strangle movement before it could blossom. sometimes I think we put up the critiques to excuse ourselves from getting involved, and sometimes I think we do it to protect our hearts from getting broken if it doesn’t work out. critique, alone, can keep us from having to pick up the responsibility of figuring out solutions. sometimes I think we need to liberate ourselves from critique, both internal and external, to truly give change a chance."

Sunday, October 9, 2011

random fabulous

me, in my room, where the air is a little more like air...
finished scarves...they are for sale! There are 4 of them. 2 are a bright lemon/lime with dark teal or light blue hand stitching at the ends. 2 are a bit wider and are a medium teal blue woven with an aloe green warp. price range is 40-55 dollars.


soft fuzzy tri-color llama yarn...also for sale...but really/also just showing you all because its fun to show and tell.

and then below are some examples of the gorgeous movement art from Dignidad Rebelde . political art gets me all excitied....






Saturday, October 1, 2011

occupying the occupied and proof theres life beyong traffic and dryer vents.

right now i'm stuck in my room waiting for the neighborhoods fucking laundry to be done but i managed to climb the mountain this morning...well my little car did...
video
my struggling for oxygen brain has been busy with this whole occupy wall street situation. How with a slight reframing, ok maybe a major rebuild, but with some shift and recentering i would be so much more excited....and you know, its exciting, but i've been digging into my hestitancy around it. my discomfort with the use of the word occupy, since as far as i can tell this is NOT an ironic statement about first nations people reclaiming stolen land and  all the rest of us rising up to dismantle america and fuck nationalism and all that. my discomfort with the american hollywood capitalism induced phenomenon where we...even radical folk...have to fucking NAME everything, coin a phrase, market it and watch it spread. occupy wall street, occupy santa fe, the battle of seattle, another fill in the blank is possible (my snark is showing now but i'm stuck in my room n cranky so...). my discomfort with the  white middle class able bodied core these protests are built on. worry that its a set up... a set up for the rest of us who are uneasy, have criticism. a set up like a western ghost town movie prop....all building fronts no buildings.
i want this to really be something big. thats lasts. that is precisely about a poor peoples uprising that at its core is folks of color and queers and crips...
but white supremacy runs deep. it colonizes. it occupies and re-occupies. and capitalism, hot damn, it'll swallow potential amazingnesss up and spit it back out at us so fast...so fast.
so yeah, shift the base, the message. the heart.

and even here stuck in my room waiting for the laundry fumes to let up, i can feel the collective busy brain, the hive mind. its a good thing.

find myself

standing out in front of the house on the sidewalk at 3 am in my socks and pjs staring up at the sky.
so quiet.
as quiet as it gets here. and the air is almost clean. and theres no people. yet.
eventually i feel the cold from the pavement creeping into my feet.

i know i'm not doing well when  i do stuff like this.

with the sun comes the cars, and laundry fumes...its saturday. a big laundry day for people.

i'm scheming for a refuge, which ultimately cannot be the sidewalk at 3am.

if i could get a little land with a scrappy little cabin i would. i fantasize about it being this resource to share with other chronically ill folks i know. consider doing this whole online i'm a good cause fundraising thing that seems to kinda work for folks but i just can't seem to get it together.
possibly because deep down i'm not convinced that i am...a good cause.

or i've got too much stubborn trashy pride.
right...in my socks, on the sidewalk.

the other refuge/recovery idea is a little rv. like an old toyota. but i wonder about the triggering -living in a car-factor and if i'll actually make use of it and if it would actually be helpful.

slammed lately. a short dirty (but scent free!)laundry list: unable to board a flight to oakland to see friends, or even do mundane things like errands or eating out or grocery shopping. discovering my father died, i happened to do a google search for his absent ass and found his obituary. serious neck pain...seriously. nothing gets done.  now my cat is missing...i got her when i first moved to the mountains, she's been with me for all of it. seems the city has swallowed her too.

oh sigh. insomnia does not wear well on me.

gonna put some shoes on and get in my little car now and drive. get over the mountain before the sunrise and keep the quiet with me.
xo

Friday, August 19, 2011


we grew up really poor
she said from behind the register
every year my mother would celebrate Christmas by putting a new layer of vinyl  down on the kitchen floor
by the time she passed away the floor was thick with layers of new start we’re gonna be just fine vinyl pride.

Monday, July 18, 2011

sometimes out back

a host of sparrows explodes from the tree top outward in all directions
i can feel the lift of it
the stirring air and for that brilliant skyward moment
it all lifts with them
the heavy growl of traffic
the dangerous hum of humans
all the well lodged voices in my head that condemn me
trash
waste
sick
crazy
useless
its all your fault echoes
of my own voice falling in the heat from the bed
toward the dirty carpet
when
will this
be over
the sounds they all lift
with the birds
exploding stirring up ghosts and history and
a sense of tomorrow
when
theres a chance of change as good as a rest
i want to take off toward
and outward
take off lost and happy
take off years
of lonely
keep this feeling well lodged inside
my chest
a suitcase of sudden hope sparrows.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

outta dodge

i managed to peel my ass out of the house, out of the city, yesterday and into the pecos river valley. just kinda drove. felt city blech shed from my body. my chest. my eyes. got to connect briefly with the northern new mexico that i love, that i miss. the stark, open, stunning quiet.

i thought i'd share some photos of my restless crip journey...

*photo is of an old red wooden barn, on a bright sunny blue sky day with the red rock mesa in the background.
photo is of the pecos river where it is dammed and theres is a long and low waterfall.
Photo is of the acequia madre winding through tall grasses and trees.
photo is of irrigated green open fields below the red rock mesa under a blue sky sunny day.
photo is of an old metal girder bridge above the still, dammed water of the river. bridge is reflected in the water. bright blue sky, tall grasses border the water.
this last photo is of the pecos river, shallow and winding through tall grasses. above the water is a rocky hill covered in juniper trees. 


Friday, July 8, 2011

squash flower

its been especially hard to grow things this year, what with the high winds well into summer, the serious drought and now also the hot hot hot days. and many perennials are struggling after such a cold dry winter. its no picnic for plants out there. so amidst the fires and the sense of certain doom this was a welcome sight...

Monday, June 27, 2011

just human

What do we do
that feels like fire that feeds like fire
 just going through the motions
the little tasks that must just must get done
tending flames
blowing smoke
children play laundry gets done
traffic lights go
green
yellow
red morning sun strains through the haze
what can we do that feels like a downpour
in the dust
feeds us like sweet water on skin
we sweep the ash from the front step
curse the winds
look up at the dirty sky
and wait


*we've had countless wildfires in the southwest this year. well over a million of acres burned or burning. right now there are 2 major fires flanking santa fe, one of which is within the los alamos national labs which brings radiation along with its smoke and ash. it hasn't rained in months.