Pot Bound

My outgrown tangled roots
are bound for a bigger pot

Tradition states my choice…
and it’s two sizes too small
as they say
so the moment I’d settled
my roots had already grown out
left most untidily tangled

To be frank, I’m tired
after two times too many plantings
my leaves droop as I fight for space
against myself, to be sure

but I’m frighted of a too big pot
one in which I might get lost
what if the edge is far away?
so I can’t find it
to sit decisive-like and say
“I’m clearly too big for this pot
I must make myself smaller”


To be Considered

Who will see me when my skin lets go of my bones?
who will see me when my eyes cloud over while my nose continues to grow?

not that girl
who stands guard
in meek resolve uses that
tone of voice
and the illusion of choice she “asks” me if I’d like
milk or water to help me swallow
and when the pill gets stuck above the lump in my throat

I tell her I’m confused and I don’t feel well.
She pats my back and uses that
tone of voice
that sucks my breath
she tells me she’ll tell someone else and to enjoy this beautiful day.

My body hurts
deeply I am so tired
I never considered my life would or could be like this in the end

We have a humaine society for our pets
but we imprisin our mothers and fathers with our love.

The Pit

angeline with fu manchuI’m not the girl
who sways majestically in time
With stage light reflecting 
her careful costumed appearance
a filtered queen of the night
I envy her effort and her awareness
as the lights dim.

For a moment I let my eyes close
carefully as the drums hit me perfectly
deep in the middle of my chest
and I am free
floating on the melodies
ripped from the amps of the bassist
smiling right in front of me
laughter erupts from inside my belly
without my consent this is bliss

For a moment between the pressure
and the pain.

I’m the girl in the pit
drenched in other people’s sweat
pressed against a bolted metal fence
waves of pressure break against my back
while boots attached to bodies sail over me
but I know when to avoid the boot
I can feel it coming as security pushes in
to gleefully rip the roaring kid victorious
from their broken surf.

I don’t see that girl again
but for some reason
she stays with me.

On Forgiveness

We must understand
The need to
support and forgiveness
of ourselves
Before we are able to
support and forgiveness

We are not yet able to be
to each other
because we are not yet able to be kind
to ourselves

We must practice
our appreciation and support
for ourselves
And we must practice dutifully
our appreciation and support
for each other

For change to happen
Our daughters, our sisters, our neighbours and their daughters
our mothers and their mothers
must learn how
to forgive themselves
For change to happen

Forgive our inner voices and
all the inner voices
we can’t hear
but assume are unpleasant
because we believe
those negative thoughts
of ourselves

we are due for something better

We need to listen
to words without judgement
we need to lift each other up
by speaking the truth respectfully

and then

We must believe each other
and allow this learning to happen
with support, tolerance,
understanding and forgiveness.

it’s time

To come Toe Gather

Through the light in his manic eyes
the confidence of of the going to die
scared by his will to live
we hide our eyes with tears
hide courage in backlit text quotes

a blink of humble through
the distorted bubble where
news hurts in 30 seconds or less

and happiness is more
than my visa can afford
who claimed the work flag?
stole our fingers and free time

credit buys our toes on a beach
with an all inclusive beer
documented for future vindication
because if nobody sees your not really amazing
too safe life
did it really happen?

Dangerous Expectations

pictures from angeline's cell by text 020

Feminism has burned
While regal princesses
rise pristine out of the ashes
Blinded by the glitter
They tell her beautiful
looks the same as successful
they feed her glass candy
filling her body
with Dangerous Expectations
Before she could walk

There is
A flutter of doubt
but the machine is
ready for her
with magazines and reality TV
ready to Protect
future generations
ready to feed their next
Sparkeling glass bellies


I wrote this when my daughter asked me when was her hair was going to be blond, and her eyes blue?
I was mad at myself for my consent, (that is my little girl in the picture) for my pleasure at the way other people looked at her with her super cute dress on. I was weak and in a time where feminism is a bad word, where the first thing on their bodies is a disney princess diaper, where girls are told every little girl loves barbies.  I have to remind myself to be strong and raise her to be a strong, confident, critical thinker, who knows she’s beautiful just the way she is. Good Luck, eh? Well all I can do is try.

Christmas Sparklebug


Glitter, Sparkles, Santa
Flying reindeer, miracles
happen all the time
When it’s Christmas
at least
That’s what I seem to be feeding
my family
Christmas shot straight into
the bloodstream
through the TV
mounted on the wall, flat.
Then frown and scold
when they act like junkies
glazed over greedy eyes
hands full of plastic candy
ungratefully begging for another fix
When it’s all over
they ask me
where was the magic mom?