dear mom,

                                 down and dirty and broken      smuthered as a fish in a pan of hot oil because ive never been very good at looking where i was going       immediately following and descending the stairs       all glitter and misspellings with typos and ignoring condiscending looks from the cat we confront the moment with surprising calm and strength because you cant panic now who else will talk to the police on the glistening grass       and parading through the house with saints who all have your face uncanny how much we take for granted in here       i was wondering what you did with those sponges carrie gave you for your birthday so many years ago when she was my best friend when dad called her george and no one knew why but it stuck       we were going to live next door to each other forever then       i was wondering if you have the answers to all of my complications my aproximations       is there a hole or an adam i should know for comparison sake or a name I should take       and if this doesnít make much sense it doesnít have to because you always understood me anyway       even when correcting my grammer or table manners       so i think it would be a shame to waste all the time it takes to argue over who gets the biggest piece of the pie or who took the best picture      dad always cheated at those games anyway       at least i learned about gambling at an early age when i didnít have much to lose       but faith can be a good story from an ex catholic boy       and it doesnít take much to ruin a perfectly good dinner      just a tap on a glass and a belch       the important things were always in there somewhere       and i just wanted to thank you for everything and its ok if you cry when i say i love you because it hasnít been easy and most of all because im crying too but try not to smear the ink because I can only write this once       and i know that some times its been hard to believe and i have been hard to believe and to live with but i do love you and you know me best after all.


love always           kate



(precious girl, I am alternately saddened by your lack of peace, impressed with your strength, and blown away at your abilities. You are the best, and you know me the best, too. We trust and learn from each other. I love you so much, mom)





itís an interesting position; hallow super woman.  the push. the pull.  the dishes sit in the sink.  when did the settling of dust on the shelves become so difficult; in the absence of light, in the fading gray of night.  the sun comes up.  every morning begins as soothingly as the last; lying in my bed.  the beginning.  the end.


beyond the point; beside belief.  systems so carefully instilled.  banging on pots, banging on pans.  the mysteries of calling home unravel with the sound of your voice.  engrave the differences in your smile, the silver in your eyes.  attempt to reverse the ďfix it gene.Ē


resting on steel floors, place hands on hips, on thighs, on lips.  select a mask; who do i want to be tonight.  sitting on a dim stage before the audience takes their seats.  alone in my costume i wonder if they can see my eyes welling with tears.  in the dark, their faces glow.  quit cleaning cages.


sweet selective clown.  i am awake, now more than ever.  under the weight of the world; under the shadows of doubts, yours and mine.  are shared moments all we have ever had?  the sun and the moon.  the holy shit, what have you done now?  decline the invitation.  descend the rafters.  as free as you want to be.


the center fold creature; cavernous beauty yet to be revealed.  finger chimes and drums.  the unveiling; biting my bottom lip and holding my breath.  deep sleep between lines.


state the obvious.  resurrect the past and plunge, spiraling downward into the gray state of things, the status quo.  the pool of the moon.  hold everything back.  locked tight.  pms sucks.

questions of faith
and born again lies
tangled head
reverse compromise
in paradise
single word
single line
single sentence
single lie
life and all of its wonderful twists has kicked my ass again, the blood runs thick from my wounded head.  kneeling to see the ground your face is covered in dust
i am not hear
i am not hear
i am not hearing you
the manipulation of words
the tool
of the drama
will be our doom
the sidewalk crumbles
and modern man worries about leaving his mark on the world
so he will not be forgotten
so he will not be forgotten
have you forgotten me
forsaken me
shaken me
to fear my mind
to cringe at the sound if my voice
i have not
let it go that far
i have been gone
i will be strong
in this place
it sounds


hold out for the right answer.  never ask the same question twice.  think backwards and you might understand.  the circles; my mind runs out of competition.  the laps of confusion.  chemical imbalance.  hormone therapy.  a distant cycle of catch phrase; procreation.  do not think, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.  the reproduction of the patriarchy; the remaking of motherhood.  who will buy your magazines this time.  the corner of the market is getting smaller.  the audience is growing tired of the weary lies.


some how i started yelling.  itís a woman thing.  you donít have to understand all of the cards you are dealt.  some things come with time; some never come.  a bedside rook.  a sleep over pawn. the glass diamonds, counter productivity.  who said anything about the night in shining armor; no more burning men running out of nowhere.


take off running through wild neural transmissions;  unmask each step.  synapses fired.  who asked for your opinion anyway; what compelled you to interfere this time; interface.  thank you for coming; you made it just in time.


feeling out side; miles from home.  no where is no where; are you always right?  my dear, we need to be more cautious with our feelings of discontent.  is the washing machine off balance; has the dishwasher over flown.  who will be here to clean up my mess when you are gone?  what is the sum of our love; do you think you have taught me enough; do you think you have learned anything?  be careful with your heart.  back dive.


renegade survivor of the american dream.  picket fences, cold snow, crab apple trees.  the maze lays out before glass eyes of sorrowful, soft tears; the frown that plagues your youthful gaze and chills my every move, brings me closer to realizations.  there is a woman stinging under my skin; feels taught and red with anger.  remorseful groans that fell upon deaf ears and blind eyes; you move undulating through tough words.  my sighs mean nothing to you and yet you insult and intrude.  i sometimes wonder if our peace will come quietly or if it will be a fight to the death.

my shoes
walk these
lost hope
my words
i left you
her as
she pirouettes


depart. misguided, mistrust.  it isnít quite the life or death situation you make it out to be.  what stars were in your eyes standing alone in your birthday suit.


i am not going to run home every time life becomes tiresome and strange.  my affirmations are wrapped up in tiny packages with pink bows, but my hands are tied and this time i canít reach with my teeth.  the reverse stitching comes unglued; the comforting spot on the bed falls apart at the seams.


self help; stealth moves through urban legend.  pop rocks.  the stereo types never fit our family of four.  the red marks on the page;  what improvements can be made today.  peripheral vision.  i have forgotten, i have become.  the importance of the fringe benefits.  what is the rate of exchange; what do i have to do?  watch the doors open and close.


lacing strands of hearts.  racing; your finish line seams farther and farther.  what end to measure success, or lack there of.  a little bit of failure can kill; curiosity and the cat.  i was the pissy one who locked her self in her room.  you were the one who tried to hold everything together.  borderline mania; mild depression.  tell it to the moon. i canít remember shit.


circular realizations; epiphanies and theories lost.  i am wondering when i will get it.  the ethereal mannerisms, the charisma, the charms.  i do not expect to always be comfortable.  i donít have an agenda to speak of; i eat my breakfast alone on the front stoop and admire the water pooling in the street.  i think someone upstairs has been poisoning pigeons.

and every day
begins the same
the other voice
on the phone
i try not to lie
or disappoint
you with
my ever
swing on the trapeze
what ever you say
iíll put it on my list
it is