Cuckoo

I walk in the rain
Get a rhythm where it is not about
Home
Except it is all about home
(Not)
Feeling it
Seeing it
Being it
If it reaches my head
Home
Like a weight pulled upwards
My steps will crumble
Lose traction
Trip on the slipperiness of misery
Tired as nuclear dust
Not the dust I know -
The dust I can sweep up and put back together again
The birds sing at night
When the light falls in the dark room
A tortuous call
You cannot dream you cannot dream
I think of Bird Man
He'll be wearing his pink tee shirt pale blue jumper
His face white and quiet
A soft line of a smile walking in the rain
Understanding
Home
I walk in circles
The rain gently flowing like my feet
Cuckoo spit garbage on the lavender bush
Like pollution on my skin all around me
It is imperative
To keep moving
To keep moving
Home

It makes sense now
The patterns and lines
The circles and time
The smooth kiss of a trach-line
One clean try
Enough.

I walk in the rain
Get a rhythm where it is not about
Home
Except it is all
All about home.

As if by Magic

I catch a rose petal
Call it silver
Put it in a box
With my red heart
And space for words
Ready to be pulled like a magic scarf

J-Words

J is sorry not to be able to send letters to my friends. I cannot get out to buy stamps as yet and still can’t email.

~Dearest Annell…I miss our letters and pictures of Beau. I have changed wards. My sister has the new address – I also have to use my ‘official’ name. I think of you in your studio in Taos and send you much love. Alice is keeping me safe.

~Dear Robin (Old Egg)…thank you for the cards and love…have no fear I am not easily swayed and have no intention of picking up bad habits…I hope you are still telling the story of Ahu…

~Dear Ann (Bunny Girl)…thank you for the Maelstrom…It passed customs (nobody understands words so there was no trouble). My sister read the last email you sent before I came here. It sang like a bell. I will indeed pretend…reach the final step…and find my recovery…I think it’s always been there waiting to be found…thank you.

~Dear Amy (Sharp Little Pencil)…thank you for your letters and pictures. They always make me : )   I hope the letter reached you.

~Dear Kim…I hope you are all well…I miss the color of your words and pictures…thank you for your thoughts…I feel them…

~To anyone else who drops in…I miss you all and hope to be back and blogging soon.

Fly

The butterfly is fading
Her wings limp
Her colour flaccid
Once she held the blue of moon
White of clouds and dreams
She clings to me
Like a ghost
Her lines disappearing
Phantom like
In today's lost
Hours pale
Minutes suffocated yet frenzied
I sit under the tree
Try to find the rabbit hole
Quietly whisper
Alice Alice
But she's silent
All gone
I cannot write my book of colour
I cry
Secretly underneath the leaves
I cannot write my book of colour
When the pages are dark
Crumpled up in puzzles
Half chewed
Half done
Half left behind
Half gone
Bouncy balls on filthy carpets
Crayons painful as daggers to hold
Women lie on the floor
They become children
It is safer that way
Their limbs grow heavy
Their heads loll tired
Abandoned by the agility of life and breath
I breathe
Feel the rain
The leaves move
The sky breaking through cloud
Keep going keep going
The book of colour must be written
The butterfly must regain her wings
And fly
We must fly
High above the fences and carpets
Never will we stick to the floor
Waiting to be mended
We are not a puzzle chewed and spat on
We are
We are.

Lavender and Sugar

I found the lavender and the sugar
But I do not know which way the clock turns
I am in a room bound in leaves and wire
Darkness
No sky
No way out
I want my home screams Alice
I want my home
We are in the dark place
The dark place where time and life are stuck
In prison I cannot write myself out
My words will not dissolve the bars
Not like the powder dissolved me
I am cut off from her. From me
Not a clean cut
The slow serration
Plastic orange knife
We are so scared
So very scared
They chuckle darkly in the laundry room
Where real lives are hidden
In socks and dirty pockets
The life we want back
Self we want back
They stare at us through glass
Like a carnival clown
fortune teller evil silent laugh
Future etched in ticks and crosses
No words exchanged
No feelings measured
We dare not show them or the bars will get tighter
Light falls in my dark room like a surprise
Like it doesn't belong
Won't stay
I am stuck in tangled leaves and wires
Silently wedged in the piss stains and baby talk
I should have run
When I had somewhere to run to
Dreams don't come here
I tell Alice to go away
RUN RUN RUN
I found the lavender and the sugar
But I do not know which way the clock turns
Funny really-
How every second burns.

Fractured

The day starts with the bird falling
Its head fractured but still breathing
The solitary bee pollinates the wooden garden
The magic number was three
Now it is fifteen
The concrete and fences
Climbed the ladder
Over the top of consciousness
I walk past the spot the baby bird died
Brush my hand over the bush
It is soft
Like hair
Baby hair
Nestled safely around twigs
Like skin around bones
Determined to thrive
To remain undamaged
Stuck in the wooden garden
Slap slap wake up
I am wide awake
I must get back
Back to my world of mirrors
The right side of shiny
Tornadoes and red shoes
A rustle of happy
I will not walk on the flowers
Like ego and soul ground down in pestle and mortar
Only my hand has a legitimate claim
On that which is precious
On that which is me

The days ends after the bird has fallen
The killers still gabble on the roof
The solitary bee is still busy
bzz bzz
The bush is soft
My hands are busy
bzz bzz
Writing
Dreaming
All that is mended
All that is mine.

Lodged

In December I was in the red bed
Dreaming
Soft curls
And peppermint dreams
Now I am awake
But the world is not real
No Cheshire Cat smiles
No rainbows or magic flowers
We are lodged
Which means staying
stuck stuck sticky
No view
I left Alice
Safe
Along the way
I do not want her fingers
She scraped the concrete walls
I do not want her
To see
Belt chains
Keys
Windows
Meshed
Hear the alarms
The shouts
Door after door
Slam bang
shut shut
We are stuck here
On the other side are the bad men
I do not belong here
It is all such a terrible mistake
But the Red Queen cannot hear my cry
So my head stays on
Like concrete
I do not belong
I am property
Listed and ticked
The flowers are tired
Drained and forgotten
I do not remember
What I look like
Feel like
Smell like
This is all a terrible mistake
I whisper to Alice
Who waits safely in the red bed
I wish I could say I was tired
But I feel nothing at all

I am lodged
Which means staying
stuck stuck sticky
No view.