more pics from black-eyed heifer box opening party

and more, upside down in ways--read lower post to here

these pics are for my family & my friends who could not be here today, although i swear you were here in spirit...

Kristen Nelson designed the book. Noah Saterstrom painted the cover. I wrote the damn thing. Joy!

Mary Martha hosted this party & has been a major support to me over the last almost year. What a beautiful night to throw together so last minute. Joy, joy!

cardinal in a red bed

The bomb fell but didn’t ignite in your eyes
And your scars are safe from sight below shirt sleeves tonight
You said if you never heard your name again it would be alright
What goes on in your mind?
My, my, you’re such a beautiful lie

This whole damn place has lost its charm
The locals all long gone below the bridge each night
You walk head down on streets once overlooked
And they sure look nice now if you can pay the price now
My, my, you’re such a beautiful lie
My, my, you’re such a beautiful lie

You can sink into the river
Float east out to the sea
Settle in the ocean
Big and far as eyes can see
Or hold council in the alley
Bare feet on hot concrete
Just drink yourself to death here
Cause you never planned on leaving

Sun fails you at first light when you rise
And you drink till the shaking stops, drink till you feel alright
You said you’ll never be the same again
But at least you try now
What goes on in your mind now?
My, my, you’re such a beautiful lie
My, my, you’re such a beautiful lie

-tim barry whom i heart.

im going to a baseball game. i dont know who im seeing.

lovely tucson day, i'm up & running late to a baseball game. starts now but i'll prob make it by halftime even though im unsure if baseball has a halftime. oh well. it's still lovely out.

it's been a tough winter for most but now it's spring

i keep reminding myself to relax my shoulders because i'm all scrunched up lately. even when i'm lying in bed trying for sleep, relax your shoulders, & then i'm instantly in a different body.

i've been moving my plants outside & planting new ones from cutlings. goldfinches populate the mesquite tree for seed from the feeder. i had lost myself recently, but now i work to stay present in the present, not thinking of yesterday & not thinking of tomorrow. MMM read my taroh last night & my unconscious, she said, was screaming at me. most writing is from the unconscious mind so i'm not altogether surprised by what the cards were saying. in this town, when you tell your friend you have troubles, a candle is lit on a home altar. the simplicity of the act & the generosity is beautiful, daily prayer, the desert reminding us bloom is possible.

When the moon hangs right you are Belen left asunder. Corners erode, big trucks will bring them down, she knew this the first time she saw the back window. Trucks don’t bear a doable turning radius. And so to corral, to ride, to tame, you call wakeful delivery: up. You will find the wildness that talled over the City, carries your shoes over the City, the City will take you in, not tower so the way you think driving into it. We make songs growing older, clap two hands together for a whistle sounds the horses coming in from the far fields; I imagine it so. Did she have an incapacity to allow this badness in her home, more than half of her tied up in private school, little Catholic girl skirt, servitude all her life. Waken, the cars are circuituitous the statue, mercy on Guadalupe, she has been a woman known for grace, cathedrals lit up on the 7-11 wallside for her in this town, the men kneel in prayer; take away the things in my life I do not need. Light candles, do penance, buy yourself oxford shoes that fit protocol. How you make yourself rise & lose what, you dress this body, borne mother’s fine waist & love of the evening light. Fifteen minutes to take care of yourself not by alcohol: it watches for you to sound. It watches eyes. Eyes itself never admits. Grows limbs over the house yellow flowers sneeze the life out of me, not the limbs you have leveled over the bed, a briar thicket, keeps me put, hurts thorns. Not the limbs; yours.

Going away / Coming back

i went home for a week to clear my head. i visited with my family & friends & ate a lot of good food from which i gained three pounds. i'm back in tucson--the last pic of the las is from this morning--happy girls!

i am stuck in the jacksonville, florida airport

this is not an ideal town

my flight pushed back 2 plus hrs

i miss my connecting flight into houston

i shouldve arrived in tucson at 630

i will now get there at 1030

err... i wanna see my cats!

ps. i think i have the flu or something. gross day. ready for home / bed.

go pre-order my book if you have like thirteen dollars, that's all

as of yesterday you can pre-order my book on the tarpaulin sky webpage. here!

Bunches o' Good Stuff Day

I have a poem "Keylight" out in horseless review. I like that journal name because it is utterly appropriate to my given horseless situation. It's an amazing & lengthy issue that a whole lot of work went into--I'm on page 102!


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My Trickhouse interview with the most lovely Kristen Nelson is O-U-T!

go to www.trickhouse.org -- & click on the interview door.

Thank you, Kristen, for doing this with/for me! It's so neat to see it live!


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Also, I am having lunch with Jim Harrison at Mary Martha's house on March 12! I'll post pics for sure!


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All right!

If yall know me then you know I'm pretty dern ocd...

I've had it with my cheap vacuum cleaner. Both wheels fall off, it doesn't suction well. I know it's irrational but today I had enough & sat right on down on the floor & cried like a crazy person (over the vacuum cleaner!) cause I could not get the wheels to stay on. Four animals in this house = I have to vacuum all the dang time. I've had enough. This Tuesday in March will forever be known as the day I sat on the floor & felt real sorry for myself over my shitty vacuum cleaner. I WILL get another!

Hallo March

Hello--it is March in Tucson, the sun is out! It seems like Jan & Feb were a bunch of gloom & rain, kind of different for these parts, but now I am ready for the sun to come (or else I'm going to get a spray tan! Ha!) & all that snow to melt on the mountains & for spring!

I've been getting stuff done...writing-wise anyways. All the other stuff (errands, pay the rent, that stuff I've still got to do). I have cleaned the house though & have cooked some quality dishes here lately.

The best was an ancho chili, lime, cilantro marinaded tilapia for fish tacos. I made my own pico--tomatoes, lemon, lime, garlic, red & green onion, jalapeno, serrano, cilantro, etc. N made corn & refried beans--it was a taco feast, sided with a watercress & arugula salad. I got this new habanero (hottest hottest) sauce that burns me up but I love it. Ive been putting it on everything. I go to the fridge just to get a dab on my finger I love the burn so much.

I've been pretty blessed to only be at the bar a couple days a week & still not have to worry about money too much which is nice. Worrying about money is the worst! Still, I wish I could be teaching poetry or anything to get out from behind the bar. I've been losing my temper with folks a bit. I'm kind of mean as all hell sometimes.

Neil is in San Diego having some fun! He is visiting with family & with old friends until tomorrow. We miss him around here. Murderface is all gloom cause I won't play with him. Milo is a bear. The lashels are sleeping--what's new.



-------------excerpt from Belen*----------------------------------------------

Living in the ghetto I knew exactly what I’d do for fried chicken, what lengths I would go to. I usually have shrimp & fries delivered from the Chinese place down the road; the one with a plastic shield you order through, bullet safe, because it is not safe to go out as a girl alone of night let alone work the Chinese joint. I’ve seen people get irate & want to get at that barrier over left out duck sauce packets. This cold is unreal & in the ghetto I do not have a cocoon coat, but hustle to the train & back in a longish tan pea coat. I often times think I might die for chicken. Two miles away from my ghetto to the next is Popeyes. Would I put myself out in that danger for chicken? I ride that train, get off at the Utica Stop, the sky long past set in that monotone industrial pink color I think the whole damn sky will explode. It’s just rain & all these city lights, baby girl, I tell myself like Roger would. The woman out front is violently begging for rice & beans, I give her money for rice & beans, she does not seem gracious. I am shocked then I want to punch her in her face. I do not. When I make it to Popeyes & through the line, head down, I always get three fried chicken breasts, tub of mashed potatoes & creole gravy, biscuits for days. I get on train with my Popeyes, fills up that car, people eyeing my Popeyes, get off my stop & run with my Popeyes—& home. I pour myself a sweet tea, sit on the coach alone, watch TV, & am so happy I cry.


--------------------------------------Belen is a fictional character. I am now writing [fiction]. Nevermind the character is a southern grl living living in the City. Fiction is fiction. False. I heart fiction. I heart the song I heard two days in a row that says 'come on baby, don't feel the reaper... [& then a lot of of these las] la-la-la-la-la' but i don't know who sings it. it's on the taproom jukebox, i guess i could go over & look huh--------------------------------