put another buffalo in my jukebox baby...
put another buffalo in my jukebox baby...
sometimes the silence between the words is all i can hear
deaf to pleas, done with conversations, digging
holes in spaces, writing these dots...connecting dots, collecting
dots...
i am going to be one of those old women that you see in
outlandish clothing, polished like glass, fragile but tempered.
o that temper, that temper! when you pass, you will say,
"look at her, she must be crazy" in a polite whisper...
there is no thing polite about me except howdy, and a
warm touch, a snort when i laugh, loud enough to frighten
my own children, i peel you back and look interior... a view,
an intuition, a psychic vision...and if you venture closer...
claws in one hand, hardly trimmed, but poised...sometimes
a fist, a hammer, a rock hard slap in the face that hurts you where
you hide out...then a touch, a soothing word, an apology that is
carried in my bag, a tissue for you to blow it out on the other
hand...
i will be one of those old crones that smiles when you question, nod my head agreeable, mirror and shapeshift to your face, your mask that lies *liar!* in front of me. you may see, you may see me, that old and still beautiful woman who smiles when you question...
saturn, the old man *very old man* takes a stroll with me, he is ringed, bejeweled, and passing out chickens like cigars to all the houses on my block...naked saturn, with hula hoop frown, lives in the 9th house on the block...he'll stay awhile, a guest that runs around in his birthday suit...flashing me as he passes...dirty old man...revealing all...
and another milestone passes on the road, this long windy, pock-marked, rocky road with a view that would stagger anyone by it's very lucidity...a cormorant flew over me, escaped from japanese fishing village only to view the rio grande...double rainbows, twins, before my day, crossed the mountains...i see...i sea...Susan Elizabeth Appleby...SEA, see?
i want, or should i say, i desire (cannot escape the desire, nor do i want to, yet) him still, he who suffers the slings, the arrows, the darted looks, the lidded eyes, aye, him, the thing, the one i most cherish and love must suffer with me...for we suffer the most the ones we love...
when i get old, older, i will dwell in dreams, live in light, that woman you pass on the street, whisper, "she must be crazy, look at her eyes...she must be..."
SooZen
9-26-2004
day after...
deaf to pleas, done with conversations, digging
holes in spaces, writing these dots...connecting dots, collecting
dots...
i am going to be one of those old women that you see in
outlandish clothing, polished like glass, fragile but tempered.
o that temper, that temper! when you pass, you will say,
"look at her, she must be crazy" in a polite whisper...
there is no thing polite about me except howdy, and a
warm touch, a snort when i laugh, loud enough to frighten
my own children, i peel you back and look interior... a view,
an intuition, a psychic vision...and if you venture closer...
claws in one hand, hardly trimmed, but poised...sometimes
a fist, a hammer, a rock hard slap in the face that hurts you where
you hide out...then a touch, a soothing word, an apology that is
carried in my bag, a tissue for you to blow it out on the other
hand...
i will be one of those old crones that smiles when you question, nod my head agreeable, mirror and shapeshift to your face, your mask that lies *liar!* in front of me. you may see, you may see me, that old and still beautiful woman who smiles when you question...
saturn, the old man *very old man* takes a stroll with me, he is ringed, bejeweled, and passing out chickens like cigars to all the houses on my block...naked saturn, with hula hoop frown, lives in the 9th house on the block...he'll stay awhile, a guest that runs around in his birthday suit...flashing me as he passes...dirty old man...revealing all...
and another milestone passes on the road, this long windy, pock-marked, rocky road with a view that would stagger anyone by it's very lucidity...a cormorant flew over me, escaped from japanese fishing village only to view the rio grande...double rainbows, twins, before my day, crossed the mountains...i see...i sea...Susan Elizabeth Appleby...SEA, see?
i want, or should i say, i desire (cannot escape the desire, nor do i want to, yet) him still, he who suffers the slings, the arrows, the darted looks, the lidded eyes, aye, him, the thing, the one i most cherish and love must suffer with me...for we suffer the most the ones we love...
when i get old, older, i will dwell in dreams, live in light, that woman you pass on the street, whisper, "she must be crazy, look at her eyes...she must be..."
SooZen
9-26-2004
day after...
- Doreen Peri
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Stream
You've got what some would call crazy wisdom.....and we all benefit from your ailment.................
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