Friday, July 12, 2019

Everything in me feels broken :: an American essay

did your cow ignore the system of reality did she shit her spoons did your cow climb the steps into Liberty's arm vomit from her torch did she walk three miles to the store for toilet paper because her car was broken did your cow die in a Biblical plague did the Spokane valley reel from her death did animal rights activists rage her storms did your cow give milk at 4 AM on a mountain in northern California did she take LSD did she break her leg did a man break your cow's leg did your cow change her name kite checks did panic bend her body into a dread abiding lake did fear roll through your cow in whitecaps did she die every morning and every night to work in the factory did your cow fan dance on a hardwood milking machine were her hooves calloused was your cow a city winking awake in between lines of cocaine did your cow tattoo with bikers on Pike Street did she shame a war barefoot did your cow breast feed you in a cafe in the center of the Pentagon did your cow lose her leg to frostbite was she a calf arranged in pieces was she chuck was she bone-in was she ribs did your cow's seatbelt crush her throat did milk float her bra did she choke did a man punch your cow in the stomach did she live on a houseboat with a square cut out of its bottom did a duck swim up the hole into your cow's arms did she spit patriotic grief did she build war planes did she shudder when the B52 she helped rivet flew above her and tipped its wing did the factory floor shatter your cow's knees was her circle so small she stopped breathing did your cow spread her coat in the pasture and fuck as other cows chewed did your cow underground did hysteria chancre her blood did your cow build a camp fire then a ceremonial fire then a bonfire did she eat the forest as animals screamed out of her jaw did your cow stigmata every month did goddesses flood from her body into an American toilet was your cow a bellwether a war machine did your cow drink wine from an open bottle under the bridge did she squat in an abandoned house did she eat from garbage bins did your cow beg for money at a rest stop on the freeway did something happen to your cow in a public toilet did she walk into the American machine was your cow's slaughter drought driven did she affect herd growth grades and standards did something happen to your cow did something

Thursday, July 4, 2019

the cement of writing

Dear Darklings

I am here I am fully here I have been writing both poetry which is not autobiography and in this blog as my diary which is autobiography but I keep saving all the diary posts as drafts because of the difficulty of writing what I want and need to write so I will start at the middle and work my way in

I have surprised myself by doing some deep therapeutic "work" with new nurse which means exploring but not exploring but putting words to a piece of the trauma that created my PTSD I don't think I've ever written about it with any specificity I searched all my old blogs but couldn't find it anywhere I know I told my son about it once he was grown and I feel like I may have written it at some point or told someone but I told new nurse that I write everything down which is true because writing it not only gives me a map it helps me remember and it always feeds never starves me

this is about the abuser

my abuser

I know I've written that word I've written that I lived with a man who abused me but those memories have long been dormant though awake I remember everything but I have pushed it so far back that it only shimmers in the distance

I could describe it perfectly as happening to someone else

a couple weeks ago I was watching Bill Hader's brilliant hbo series Barry and in the show Barry is rehearsing a scene from a play and in the scene his girlfriend instructs him to put his hand on her throat to pretend choke her and as soon as he did it I had a momentous flashback something that has never before happened to me and I started crying and I couldn't stop I cried for two days straight and

now explosions are going off loud and guns all the white men with guns drunk out here on the island and I have been hiding from this travesty of a holiday for many years because

my abuser held a rifle to my head right to my head not near it with his finger on the trigger he was going to shoot me in the head

and I sat on my bed watching Barry and sobbing in terror two days later I was in new nurse's office telling her the story not as a memory of a memory of a memory but as though it had just happened I told her my abuser held a rifle to my head with his finger on the trigger he was going to shoot me in the head and as I told her it was as if it had just happened

I have watched all kinds of movies about war and terror and abusive men always remembering always remembering everything but at a remove as someone else's memory as chimera

I told new nurse I had never written it but I am not even sure of that

and now I have

I am taking Doxazosin for PTSD it has allowed me to sleep every night for three weeks in a row without nightmares without waking myself up screaming and my prostate feels shiny and brand new and I am seeing new nurse every two weeks and she moved my appointments to Saturday mornings early so I don't have to deal with traffic and on Saturday mornings she brings her dog to work an elderly dachshund that is so fat she is pretty much a square dog and new nurse carries square dog down the stairs when I leave so square dog can poo because the she is too fat to to make the trip on her own

the dog's name is Piper

my son is home today the first day he's had off in months and the first time he's spent this particular holiday with me since he was able to drive and he understands it he understands most of it especially the explosions

I have some photos of around the house to post but this was enough writing it here cementing it here as something that happened to me as living in it I don't want to pretty it up


Wednesday, July 3, 2019

What the kestrel said

I have become extinct here among the scribes inside the hemlocks stinging green here in the green house I sit on a chair and read a bright book am I myself am I a reflection of my self am I a reflection of myself in a mirror in a mirror in a mirror disappeared into dangerous green extinct among the scribes I was an Angel now I am weightless in the water

Wednesday, June 26, 2019

Tokens were things we used to carry in our pockets. To get to school we dropped them in a box on the trolley car. Nanny made sure we had plenty of them even when we got old enough to do this for ourselves. A token in the pocket and a tuna sandwich in a brown paper bag. Why try to make a system out of something like life? The sickness came no matter what the stars were doing, whether falling apart or staying put.

Kathryn Davis, The Silk Road

Darklings, I am trying to get back to you swimming in my brains waiting for the new medication to become normal in my blood but know that my want and desire and need to be here now is still overwhelmed by science


Monday, June 17, 2019

It seemed as though the rabbits danced.

Sunday, June 16, 2019

Pig and farm report pt. 3

"It's like there's this horse inside my soar plexus," I said to Cindy over the phone, "bucking to get out."

day 3 of my titrated dose of tegretol and my fingers are on the wrong keys The Surfer is home I told him I'd make enchiladas for him but even thinking of it made me tired so I changed my mind he took me to the beach in my sad men's pajamas from Sears the same soft flannels I've had for years then left to do Surfer stuff I lay in bed reading the Dodie Bellamy book which is brilliant a book one of my Writing Wives told me about I knew I had to take a shower today seriously it has been three days so I finally got in the tub but not before I stepped in two cat water bowls tipping the cold everywhere soaking it into my blue bathmat leaving it in a puddle on the tile floor

I want to be a writer again it is in me under the surface of my skin like blood ticking through but I have tried many times to get more tegretol into my body and failed given up it is an undertaking it is going under it feels like sick stomach and fuzzy brain it feels clumsy and stupid it feels like drowning but calmer no struggle

I keep putting my fingers on the wrong keys I have the television on low volume listening to the Father Knows Best marathon on one of the ghost cable channels a true testament to the garbage politics of Terrible America I close my eyes and it feels like awake sleeping I close my eyes and marvel at Betty and her frou-frou dresses her fancy girlness she reminds me of only one girl an older girl named Becky Bunch who was actually like that a date every night a fancy dress for every dance I was in her bedroom once when she was supposed to be babysitting me she took off her blouse and her bra was pink and lacy I had no idea pink lacy bras existed I had no idea women could be soft and affectionate and smart and popular I close my eyes and hear Alex Trebek telling me I'd better make sure my plans for burial are in place I close my eyes and Bud revs his car I close my eyes and Margaret tries to escape her kitchen I close my eyes and an advertisement full of fear culture trip trops past my eyelids telling me I need more insurance against identity theft more protection from the dark web more protection from strangers and a button to push in case I fall and can't get up all this crap aged at people just a bit older than I am and Kathy becoming a young woman now in a pony tail no pig tails dating a boy named Burgess and I remember her actual history of sexual abuse by her stepfather which I cannot ignore and how did no one on this huge television production know what was happening to her how did they miss it how did my father miss what was happening to me I close my eyes but no sleep comes just this waking coma

I tried walking around the house without a bandaid on my stigmata but the weight of my breast made it ache not yet not yet I never used to heal this slowly though today I walked up through the forest without my cane the first time since November I never use it in the house or on flat surfaces but after that time my knee collapsed under me when I stepped off the steep porch I have been more careful

there are pinto beans in the pot there is one fat onion there are garnet cherry tomatoes and true fleshy sweet red strawberries and here I am in bed wondering if I should thaw out the jar of tangelo curd I made last winter and eat it with a spoon here I am in bed wondering how long it will take me to walk to the bathroom and remember to put on deodorant

transmission from the Avenue of Lost Souls

Saturday, June 15, 2019

Pig and farm report pt. 2

there's Prince Hal my feral kitty who is now an incredibly beautiful and muscular cat

this might be short because my brain is short having titrated up my tegretol dosage to the point of doddering stupidity in just two days and having eaten everything in the house and I'm not making this up I had no breakfast but I have five or six lunches also caused by titrating up my tegretol dosage and I keep gumming around inside my mouth like the paste we ate at in the 1950s thick and white no matter how much water I drink

yesterday was the first time I saw my new psychiatric nurse who is in Everett which is a 40 minute drive south a place with ample parking as opposed to a 4 hour round trip $20 parking in the middle of downtown Seattle not to mention the Ativan I had to take to get there the new nurse informed me of a few things that I will try to cram into this post before my brain collapses in on itself

remember when I wrote here that DOGNURSE told me she couldn't prescribe me anything other than the billion dollar drug because I was overmedicated? the new nurse took a peek in the DSM-5 and told me right off the get go that I was wildly under medicated I don't remember DOGNURSE ever checking the DSM-5 for anything I never saw it in her office thus the major tegretol uptick then I told the new psychiatric nurse about DOGNURSE waving away my telling her I had serious PTSD by saying oh don't we all have that and never treating me for it at all ever at any point in six years this pissed off new nurse who rose out of her chair like an ex marine nurse all huffed up for battle

finally someone other than my regulation doctor listened
new nurse prescribed doxazosin which is the same thing my regulation doctor prescribed but it wasn't $300 it was first used to treat men with prostate problems but then vets with PTSD at vet hospitals found out it helped them sleep and stopped nightmares night terrors random screaming hobgoblins evil elves devils firelegs lightning demons and etc strangely my insurance company told my pharmacy that I cannot have two of those at night only one so I am waiting for the pharmacy to hear back from new nurse before I can get that prescription filled

you can leave now if you're bored

I would

as I was going through the hour long intake process (after having filled out the 500 questions form from home) new nurse asked about my cocaine years which I have written of here obliquely she asked me what did the cocaine make you feel and I told her it immediately made me feel calm and she told me that normally people who did cocaine felt fasted sped up then she told me that my reaction to cocaine was like people with ADHD taking ritalin being sped up but feeling calmer inside of it

did you know that 70% of the population with bipolar disease also have ADHD?

did you know that ADHD makes you sometime unable to read that sometimes the words just seem to boil around on the page and make no sense?

I don't think DOGNURSE ever did any study to further herself in her field at least she never mentioned it though she went on a lot of vacations

this was a lot of information flowing in and as soon as I left new nurse's office I called DOGNURSE from my car and fired her she answered me by text this morning she wrote okay I know traffic is bad

then I went to taco time and ate some Mexifries or as we call them tater tots
with ranch dressing

I saw DOGNURSE for all those years and she never changed anything I was taking or did anything but ask how are you skinny? or how are you Deborah?

as I was leaving I asked to use new nurse's bathroom which is private the public restroom being downstairs and instead of the dusty purple potpourri in a clay bowl and a can of air freshener she had five shiney Transformers line up on a shelf like the most amazing aliens ever to land in a child's room


new nurse has a name

The Transformer

her name is new nurse
more than meets the eye

in other news there is a tiny foal now in the meadow with the lumpy cow and the first of my wild roses has bloomed

forgive me my goofs and typos in this post I suspect there are more than a few I will be back hopefully soon

I do believe I need to have seven or eight dinners now


Friday, June 14, 2019

Pig and farm report pt. 1


Friday, May 24, 2019

Pig and farm report

The Surfer drove me to the dice & slice doctor last night & we passed the field where the unicorn & the black stallion & the Magic Goat live and suddenly one of the horses was a red & white cow near the fence almost at the road and I yelled COW! & The Surfer said I thought it was just a lumpy horse & I laughed so hard my stigmata woke up

he went to the store while I was in the office & bought me my four ears of corn

all is well here except for rolling panic attacks that have been looping through me for two weeks & the hoards of gigantic RVs moving on my beach in caravans like a creepy midwestern circus during the dust bowl era except they’re elderly & richer & whiter & meaner & minus elephants 

The End.

Thursday, May 23, 2019

All the Montanas live in me

I am becoming less human
Jupiter is on my bed the feral cats for once asleep in the library I pet her silky fur she purrs and talks in ecstasy and I smash my face against her to breathe in the remarkable fragrance of her black sleek body she kneads my stomach and I crush her with my weird love and cry because I am not depressed 

I am becoming less human
out here in the forest out here in the salt blue nowhere thick with leaves and wild unmanicured forest there is a hole in my side the size of a silver dollar that leaks and leaks blood pus the sour smell of the iodine wick that is coiled into it I bleed and bleed my wound my stigmata

I did not ask for pain meds I couldn’t move for three days after the incision and gushing blood down my side and the shot of rocephin that raised a hot bump on my hip I couldn’t even turn over in bed I was in terrible pain for three days I wondered why the young doctor had not given me pain meds my wound my stigmata

I am becoming less human

a rack of magazines hung in the doctor's inner room a young blond thin girl with bad teeth stuttered around taking my blood pressure I looked at the magazine covers and saw a gorgeous photo of Serena Williams hugely pregnant holding her belly on the cover of Vanity Fair and I said to the blond thin girl look at Serena Williams she is incredible and the blond thin girl said she's a colored and I yelled back she's a superb woman and a world class athlete and she's black not a colored and I was so shocked because most people try to hide their racism in public or they used to this is the stupid complicity of Terrible America once I am through with these medical procedures I will fill out the survey they always send after and I will tell the survey what happened in that office and I will name her I will tell her real name Annie but there is no place to put my outrage my tears my sickness

I am becoming less human
I returned to the doctor Tuesday to get the wound irrigated and stuffed again with gauze more than a yard of it I have no idea how deep the hole is I am afraid to ask but it feels like it is deep enough to knock on my rib my pain throbbing on the white bone like a miniature goldfinch then I told told the doctor about my pain I screamed my pain at him and so he ordered 15 Vicodin for me which came in a childproof bottle sealed in plastic and suspicious looks from the pharmacist she peered into my car window to examine my pain to judge my pain to determine if I was an elder criminal I threw my money hard at her shoved the little drawer shut and tore away from the drive through window kicking up dirt in my fast car

I had to race my own panic home

I am becoming less human out here on the north 48°

I have to go back tonight to have my wound reopened irrigated and repacked with gauze then again Saturday apparently the cyst had ruptured as I thought and pieces of the cyst sac floated under my tender skin (the doctor showed me a piece of the sac held on the end of tiny tweezers it was small very white and looked rubbery like the tip of an old cane) and became an abscess within five days decomposition is swift

I bleed and leak and bleed and change bandages
my stigmata

a beheaded goldfinch was left by the door on the deck I couldn’t bear to touch it in fact I cannot even bend over I don’t know if a bird of prey dropped it or if one of the island's feral cats left it as a gift I have been watching its body dissolve in rain and become brittle in sun now it is flat and white the shape of a tiny Christmas tree angel with one yellow wing I make myself look every day I witness its disappearance as I witness my own 

I am becoming less human
the island is fucked with flags and bunting and maga standards hanging limp for memorial day the grocery store slashing my eyes with rows of red white and blue cupcakes and cookies and flowers and cards and t-shirts and totes and hats a bloody sea the stigmata of Terrible America all I wanted was four ears of corn but panic overtook me and I abandoned the cart in the sliding doors and fled back to my car where I sat and thought of the memorial day when I was four when my mother wrapped seven coffee cans with tin foil filled them with water and stuffed them with irises what seemed like one hundred irises to me their sick smell as I rode in the back of her station wagon to the cemetery where Lark was buried and at her grave my mother saw that the little oval forever photograph of Lark's face on her gravestone was chipped in one corner and my mother flew into a terrifying rage flinging the irises on the ground screaming and pounding the gravestone with her fists as the whispering crowd of mourners saying hello to their dead backed away from us in terror

now Jupiter is on the window sill watching through the screen hunting in her brilliant cat way this is the longest I've been able to sit up for days I have green tomatoes and new sweet strawberries and my peony is so huge I think it may have eaten the planet with its roots and I've missed you as I hurtle toward summer

Wednesday, May 15, 2019


going to the doctor at 2:20 to get my ruptured cyst punctured possibly sliced into then squeezed then stuffed with gauze and left to drain down my ribs I just took four Ativan and a bath now I’m watching the clock I hope I don’t lose my shit in his office things like screaming crying kicking biting cursing or stabbing with my Swiss Army knife all these things follow you forever much like your grades in hs “weeping” and “hysteria” are n all my reports which I tend to grab off their plastic holder on the office door when I can manage it

pray for me

Sunday, May 12, 2019


Wolfie got her head stuck in a small square Kleenex box and ran around my bed for a good 10 seconds before she could shake it off 

Saturday, May 11, 2019

(this message has no body text)

reading as temporal insanity 
reading as gluttony 
reading as religion
reading as fuel and as love

reading as dearth when reading becomes impossible for me which has been happening more and more lately as my disease progresses when reading becomes impossible for me in the dull clomping dance of depression and words jumble and boil on the page I want to tell you how it is to lose this elemental comfort this joy that has been with me my life entire  and now it goes away for long stretches at a time and yet I tend the library in my house with its piles of to read again and not yet read books I surround myself with stacks of books in every room I wait for reading to return to me I stand in my forest watching the trees or sit in the living room watching the reflection of trees on the glass of my coffee table or on the black empty screen of my iPad I have these windows now that open when reading is alive my brain on fire with it and it's all I do and I luxuriate and rest and learn and eat and eat and eat always aware that the window can slam shut at any moment so I hurry to gulp it all up

I have been writing by sending emails to myself usually a few words in the subject line and so the email arrives with the warning (this message has no body text)

not being able to read means I am disappearing
not being able to read means I am in the undertow about to drown
not reading is a bottle fly inside my body
not reading is circular
not reading is a paper cut in the wound of my being it has tiny teeth that never stop moving
not reading is grief

(this message has no body text)
(I am actually disappearing)

sending my work to myself in emails is a way of hiding or burying it because I move the notes to a folder I rarely open if I keep telling myself it’s a hoax then it becomes a hoax 

out here on the North 48° I can feel the moon pulling my brain more specifically than I could in the city and I feel the seasonal changes more profoundly as well for instance I have always found spring to be frightening and harsh and savage but yesterday it finally got warm enough to put the screens up in my bedroom and the feral kittens got extremely excited talking and stalking the winds and the smells that came in pacing around heads up ears tilted forward last year they were so wild they only watched at the window in a pantomime of hunting that was actually a mixture of fear and desire which drives all our animal selves

this morning I woke to the owls and they called from 5 am to well past 11 am I drove to the grocery store on the island for apricots and blackberries and cheese then I drove to the library and I didn't have a panic attack until 2 pm as often as not I cannot drive inside this looping mess in my brain so I live on brown rice and yogurt today I made sourdough flatbread with Greek yogurt and chopped fresh rosemary

I keep trying to write here and I am stopped I keep stopping I have lost the flow

(this message has no body text)

here are some of the empty (bodiless) emails I have sent myself

because once a man told me I was perfect and I believed him
rotary Bakelite telephone as an instrument of malice
Alex Trebek vs. Jimmy Gator in Magnolia
on being a mentally ill child
fish farms in Spokane in the 1950s
the blue glass bunny
terminal lucidity museum dream nursery was I even then dreaming of my body of what was happening to me at night
my chaotic work
collecting canning jars as a way of warding off anxiety
my anxious blood
circuit rider
every small crime
my face is long like hers
refusing to mourn

it makes no sense I make no sense I have lost the thread of me
(this message has no body text)
but these lilacs

Wednesday, May 1, 2019

I tossed a pan of water outside into the forest and accidentally hit a wee cotton tailed bunny who shot out and up the path

sorry wee bunny

Pig and farm report

transforming the terra

I bought these struggling coleuseseseses for 99 cents on sale at the local grocer a few days ago I have always loved these plants I have one thriving inside my elderly terrarium they were sickly and weak and completely waterlogged this morning I drove to the Country Store and stocked up on  hummingbird nectar and clay pots then replanted the coleussessessses and now they look brilliant on the table in the redrum kitchen soaking up sunlight and forming a friendship with my aloe and my new terrarium here's my rescue op

my depression is truly gone for now there is always will always be a caveat and the only way I was able to get out of it was to spend three days in a religious stupor high on thc and cbd edibles the only thing that worked that made it possible for me to read again and sleep again and function as a human the cure for now

this new- not-new experimentation with pot as medicine coincides with our fucked government right now and feelings I swam in during the Nixon administration living out here in the North 48° extends the rightness of that era as I wander around the island every day every day every day I feel like I'm on the commune again the air that makes me heady blue endless water in my blue eye living at the edge of the world the trees and sun through the leaves that greeny dapple the sheer overwhelming beauty of the earth's skin the divine terra as I drive listening to Neil Young and CS&N and the Beatles mostly alone the main differences of course are that I have a car  electronica and now of course I'm old

I'm reading Kate Zambreno's new book Appendix Project a companion book to her Book of Mutter she writes about being a new mother and of photographing her baby girl every day of documenting her child's daily movements about Barthes' Mourning Diary and how she Kate continues to  mourn her mother in this incredible section titled The Winter Garden she wrote:

"I take constant photographs of the baby, of me, of me with the baby, of the baby with her father, of me breastfeeding the baby, of the baby and the dog, of me and the dog. This constant, casual, documentation. Perhaps I wish to remember something of how this felt, of the life of the thing. How to record the shifts of her darling face. A mournfulness that can suffocate me. The energy of my baby. How I cannot believe four months have passed."

the first thing I thought of when I read this was how lucky this generation is to be able to document so freely such intense intimate moments with a camera always at hand and the second thought I had was of Mary Moon how she so ardently and adoringly documents her grandchildren and how amazing it will be for them as adults to see this record I have so few photos of my son from when he was about 11 years old and up he the photographer resists the camera's eye on himself

the other thing Kate's book sparked in me is how the lack my mourning my mother might affect me in my deep damp thriving bloody heart is it a necessary mourning with a mother even if she was evil and I didn't not for one hot second I shuddered when I saw her box of ashes pale blue ribbon patterned paper with a cup ring stain from where my cousin must have rested his coffee I don't even know if my brother or cousin has scattered her ashes and I don't care

that's it for now I am long winded and busy today

love to you Darkling and intrepid travelers

Tuesday, April 30, 2019

April 30

Tadpole pond

I stood on the metal bridge with mallards heron seagulls three drunk people & a Pekinese the Pekinese a black fluff scooting sideways in strong wind he hid himself behind a piece of driftwood I could see him but the drunk people could not they called his name the dog giggled one of the drunk men told me beavers eat the trees in the pond I told him the trees are alders they give their lives to Jesus every forty years the drunk woman said the other day Lloyd saw an otter float under the bridge and the otter looked at Lloyd then the otter floated to the other side and looked at Lloyd again then Lloyd confirmed this story shouting OTTER WAS RIGHT THERE then took a sip of his beer we talked otters & turtles & fallen alders & laughed in the weird morning.

Saturday, April 27, 2019

a love note from crazytown

I have been depressed for six months since I fell in the forest in fact and DOGNURSE told me just keep doing what you've been doing which is being depressed I remember being stuck like this with the Johnny Cash Psychiatrist who let me cut my Tegretol meds in half to jolt myself out of it I think DN has been overmedicating me is what I think but I have to give this some time to see if I am not manic inside this toothy depression to see if feeling better is real and not a mixed episode a decision which is just the fuckery of the disease if the depression is truly gone I'm going to less medicate myself

I rented Big Little Lies from my library and I watched the entire season at one time and so many trigger points that woke memories of the first man I lived with the abuser so many but I watched it through to the end and it was so good brilliant acting powerful

I saw an eagle in my tree yesterday and I looked at him and he looked me right in the eye as if to say here is your miracle

pay attention Rebecca

I think I have broken through this bout? round? infection? of depression I think so because I have been able to read for the past two days I think so because I have wanted to write I think so because I woke up and read my old blog and realized how much I miss that little fire inside me that made me want to write to be a writer I woke and wanted to be a writer again then I ran a bath then I realized that is still me I am still a writer I also wanted to buy some amazing looking lipstick shaped like a cat from a French website but I did not

instead I replaced my beloved blue toaster which finally gave up the goat after 16 years of stellar service with a new version of the same exact toaster and this fills me with glee and hope also the peonies

the wind is mighty today branches flying everywhere I have had bronchitis and have been coughing so hard that it made me dizzy which in turn made me not anxious to drive so I have been stuck inside my house which is much easier these days when I am not actually stuck because every day I walk outside and around my forest and marvel still I want to drive maybe tomorrow maybe tomorrow maybe tomorrow

in spite of the lack of figs on this island and my fig tree still being an infant fig tree all is well I have miraculously dusted and today I’m going to make English muffins and chant at my goddamn tulips who are taking their sweet time getting out of the ground buster

for now for today hope

Wednesday, April 10, 2019

The ever brilliant Angela Simione has two poems in the inaugural edition of  Recenter Press
Go read!

Thursday, April 4, 2019

April 4

I have three poems in the new issue of The Tiny and I have to take my car to the Honda dealership for regulation upkeep and I have a pimple on my face the size of Rome and and and I have to leave now like now and blogger is wonky and I am no longer a morning person though it took me 6 years to return to my normal circadian rhythms I stood on the porch last night and drank in the racket of the bullfrogs and crickets and this morning owls

Thank you!

Monday, March 25, 2019

here is what I think

I have been trying to avoid writing about the politics of politics so I am going to write this once now and only once now that I have cleaned my granite countertops then polished my granite countertops then sealed my granite countertops now that I have swept then microdusted my floor now that I have scrubbed my floor now that I have changed my sheets now that I have put on a clean tablecloth with a pattern of poppies now that I have moved my popcorn popper and blender and cast iron tortilla maker into the pantry because I don't use them much now that I have taken off my winter nightgown and put on a summer dress now that I have taken my meds that don't much work now that I have primly eaten a salad for lunch now that I have watched exactly one episode of Mad Men now that I have finished my library book now that I have fed my sourdough starter and listened to its song now that I have avoided the news today I want to say with sorrow that I believe we are in for another five years of the tiny king in charge of our country I believe in the stupidity of the American people I believe in the racism of the American people I believe those white supremacists who once hid now have permission from their tiny stupid king to come out from behind their white sheets and Walmarts and Cabelas and churches and minivans and Soldiers for Christ biker clubs and be as hateful and cruel as they want no matter who is filming them no matter their shaming on Twitter in fact I think they love the attention as most bullies do I think our tiny king is stupid and the worst bully of all I think our tiny king is evil and I believe he will stay in office until his nasty bloated heart explodes and I am sorry for thinking this but I have watched Terrible America crawl out of their tidy homes and beautiful kingdom come churches to have the tiny king autograph their family bibles I have seen children die on television be caged on television be shot in schools and nothing is being done to stop it and it will go on until the tiny king dies I do not believe any of our candidates can fix this Armageddon we have unleashed upon ourselves where demonic forces wage war on the soft bodies of children I believe all we can do at this point is speak out against racism and stupidity and hate we must use our voices stand up to it when we see it we must seek a new grass roots revolution and take it to heart Terrible America isn't going to fix itself and that's it for now


Saturday, March 23, 2019

How can you be an artist and not reflect the times? ~ Nina Simone

I am attempting to fleeing the fire in my head the deer came through my yard on the Equinox reminding me that it was it is time to come back up I have been in the water I have been in the dirt I have been in the pudding deep in writing

depression wrapped its ugly hands around my throat for several months one month a week two days ago and squeezed finally I gave up and drove to Seattle to see DOGNURSE where she prescribed Latuda a new bipolar depression med she raved about after she took my blood pressure which was almost as weird as her asking me to step on her scale she gave me the prescription which I took to the chemist only to be informed that the 30 pills would be $700.00 that's with my insurance it would be $1,259.55 without my insurance I laughed with the chemist as he dumped the pills back in their vault or wherever they live and I called DOGNURSE and left a rather snippy ragey message on her machine is this something she should have known? I think so or did she forget I am on a fixed income on Medicare who knows she spelled my name incorrectly on the prescription again and she called back the next day and told me keep on doing what you have been doing which is being depressed so my shrink told me to continue being depressed and I'll probably get charged for the phone call hahahahaha this all made me think of Elizabeth and the crap she has to deal with all the time it also was a prim reminder that I am not fancy enough for my disease

in the meantime

Page's father sold the ranch in other words he sold the orchard the land Page has worked at steadily since he was 13 years old the land Page's father promised Page he would one day inherent I'm not sure what the exact story is but Page was suddenly out of work and here all the time and I felt like I had to hide in my bedroom to let him be and to keep what little I had of my sanity but he quickly got a job at the hilariously named Orchard's Nursery so I have my days of solitude back and when I say solitude I mean I talk to no one except Jack the Egg Man and the girl who checks my groceries

the lilacs have buds on them the fig tree has leaves and my peony has shot its strange red penis out of the ground searching for some feminine warmth the feral cats are almost a year old I paid the taxes on my house I stopped buying books so I could save money and I'm putting the tiny island library through its paces and now I have to get dressed in real clothes to go see Jack and go to the grocer

I have three new-to-you poems coming out in the tiny in April

 this post isn't much but it's a beginning I miss being here I missed you all my Darklings

Tuesday, February 26, 2019

Try not to think about people who are writing facile things on the Internet. Remember the radical ancestor poets who have gone before, especially those who receive less acknowledgement than they should have, those whose genius was insufficiency recognized. When you feel paralyzed by the pointlessness of temporary fashion, or when dull or predictable work is lauded, try new things that will surprise you as you work for the joy of the process, remembering that all a writer needs are four true readers and one of them can be a tree.

Brenda Hillman 

Sunday, February 24, 2019


Wednesday, February 20, 2019

It's not so much that I'm busy or quiet or have fallen permanently down or even stayed too long at the candy store. It's more like I'm in a waking coma. This may be what calm feels like. I'm not sure. It's weird to be not worrying about much. It feels like new shoes that are maybe taller in the heel that what I'm used to or maybe it feels like when my headache goes away and it takes me a few minutes to notice it maybe that or maybe it's like the seconds before you die the milliseconds where you are finally forced to stop thinking about dying entirely. 

Monday, February 4, 2019

Pig and farm report

It is Narnia winter on the island
I am here but I am busy writing finally
I am here but I am trying to figure out how to unscramble and post something truly horrifying and damaging a former reader a former human told me about himself that needs to be written here
Never confuse writers with priests
Never confess to someone holding a pen to your throat

Safe and warm 
I’ll return soon

Sunday, January 6, 2019

Pig and farm report

this woke me up + hail + thunder + rain then the wind hit 61 mph and I thought a train was driving through the house but nary a flicker of the lights so I got up and made a pot of strong coffee and watched morning come in going to the beach to see how it all survived happy Epiphany 

Saturday, January 5, 2019

Pig and farm report

yesterday my beach was an unbelievable blue with whitecaps and mountains but the wind was at 50 mph all day though I only lost power once the wind gives me serious Mr Coffee Jitters the wind gets through my skin and whooshes around in my guts the wind are the trees screaming at one another it was also unseasonably warm I was going to bake bread but I was worried that the power would go out again and I'd lose my dough the wind stops me the way snow storms in Seattle used to stop me so I made the corporate decision to drive to the Dari Delite in Mount Vernon where I bought a strawberry milkshake with a plastic straw and a gigantor bag of French fries and a vat of tartar sauce the thing with the plastic straw and all the fuss about plastic straws is that the people who are noisiest about plastic straws are also the people who fly all over the place in airplanes talking about plastic straws which makes me want to talk about the dinosaur sized carbon footprint that airplanes the worst polluters you can imagine make but really I want to talk about my former company where I built those airplanes but not really and I only have one or two milkshakes a year and maybe one iced latte in summer I am not so much an abuser of plastic straws or of airplanes for that matter though I am guilty of having let fly so many of them for so many years

I woke up and read for a while this morning for a long time I forgot how to lose myself in books really lose myself the last book I got lost in was Lauren Groff's Florida which I read last summer on my deck in my mango swimsuit drinking up the sun like there was still an ozone layer and I was 12 years old with unblemished skin not 65 with skin so tender that Tide laundry detergent makes me break out in an all over body rash but now I am bookish again

the wind is down this morning I had coffee I read my book I read a beautiful haunting piece in the Paris Review by Sabrina Orah Mark  titled Ghost People: On Raising Boys and Pinocchio which holds among many startling and heart breaking insights the line "She smiles wide. One of her front teeth looks more alive than it should be." as soon as I read that I knew I was in for good she wrote about her son the shooting at the Tree of Life Synagog Pinocchio as golem boys and their imaginations and motherhood if you have a minute and care about children it is fantastic

I don't know what today holds I barely know the date these days the calendar I bought for myself is still in my closet and potatoes are sprouting in my garden below the tulips because it has been so warm I did manage to disappear almost all of Christmas the tree is undecorated and thrown into the forest where I will attack it with my little chainsaw once my knee lets me walk downhill the lights are put away and stacked neatly in my closet the Santas are gone all that's left is the Christmas tablecloth and I will get to that today because I have to mop my kitchen floor which is a sentence that probably only makes sense to me

Monday I have to take the kittens to the vet because Wolfie's head keeps clicking and it might be her microchip it is much too loud to be a tooth or it might be dried earwax though the click sounds mechanical to me as though she is an AI cat whose servomotor has come loose and Hal is going too because his ears smell rank though Jupiter does her best to keep them clean hopefully it will be easypeasy a drop of whatever to melt the gunk hopefully Wolfie will click for the vet so the vet doesn't recognize my crazy and hopefully it won't cost more than $40.00 that is my aim

I wish I had a plan for today other than drinking coffee reading attempting to bake bread working on my story watching the trees for the wind that is supposed to arrive yet again this afternoon and staying in my nightgown because who the fuck cares

good morning Darklings! it is one day or other of the week in January 2019 still a brand spanking new year and


Thursday, January 3, 2019

Pig and farm report

Wolf curled up for your viewing pleasure she's also sticking her tongue out at the wh the wind is up again maybe 40 mph right now and I am waiting for the power to flicker off I ate oatmeal with an apple in it for breakfast for sustenance since no power means no hot lunches whoosh whoosh and now I want to lie on the floor for a bit get taller the wind like this makes me feel my crazy grows a fully proofed dough in my stomach the place where my nerves meet to discuss news politics family finances and other urgencies yesterday I went shopping with my new budget and bought orange colored foods garnet yams squash and brown rice then I went to the marijuana store for my medicine since the Mr. Moxie mints are literally cheaper than Ativan and because DOGNURSE warned me that my insurance is going to decide which meds I need to be on also two days with Zombie Seroquel is about as much as I can stand and I am calmer but calm the way getting in a car accident makes you calm another word for shock another word for shook this morning I flipped off the wind and the trees an unkind act toward a forest I view as holy this may mean the crazy did not skedaddle with the  Seroquel maybe it is perching on the shaky limb of one of the ancient western hemlocks that live with me that are now my tree husbands and tree wives waiting to drop on my head as Prince Hal is fond of doing if he is above me and sometimes beside me just this morning he jumped on my bed and slapped me in the face with his giant paw which is now twice the size of Jupiter's paw but still connected to kitten

I am going to start my bookmobile tracking for 2019 I stopped listing the books I read last year because I read so many that it became a bother still I want to do it again I am currently reading Peter Straub's Koko which I rented at my library part of a trio of delicious books I have read before I also rented a movie called The Florida Project which is brilliant sooooo much better than Netflix's lame-o Bird Box seriously recommended a real story of resilient children and strong women about girls with kids living in the shadow slums underneath The Cult of Disney's stinking armpit a superb film I also discovered yesterday that my library has two different streaming services that show movies just like Netflix only free every time I go to the library now which is about once a week the librarian looks at me like she's the paranoid Secret Service I dreamed in the 1960s I secretly believe no one else on the island knows how to read including the librarian

I have my television on CNN with the sound off watching the democrats swear in to White Jesus God that they'll whatever good to see women and young people and people of color among all those fucking old white guys but not enough of them not nearly enough

my plan for today is to outwait the storm to trick it into submission to sit with a cat and read

have you written 2019 anywhere yet?


Tuesday, January 1, 2019

January 1, 2019

I like the beginnings of years it feels so clean last night was quiet I was here alone reading a book that is an old friend Peter Straub's Koko with the cats on my bed then under my bed once the gunfire started around 6 pm rifles and automatic weapons this morning I am cooking oats and an apple with cinnamon in my tiny slow cooker and making a couple loaves of French bread in between I'm watching the remarkable movie The Florida Project I have the propane fire off now as it will save me $100 a month and that is how I have to think I'm ready to shove the entirety of Christmas out the door but I need help reaching the top of the tree to remove decorations this is day two on Zombie Seroquel but as soon as I typed manic here the other day I knew it was true so I am taking care taking care 

I can't wait for my tulips to bloom

good morning Darklings may your new year be full of miracles and joy and blessings from the Animal Gods


Sunday, December 30, 2018

Pig and farm report

Dear Darklings,

My absence from this bright corner has been abscessed my absence has been deeply felt by me each morning as I consider the forest prime the dark winter the passing of the Solstice which I didn't even mark here my absence has been a deeper problem a sign a portent a falcon in the tea leaves a dusty room a bird in the library a kitchen whale spout and I have missed you all deeply my knee has grown stronger Christmas passed with little fanfare and lots of reading we had a major whopper of a windstorm which left my son and me without power for two full days forcing me finally to literally bathe in the cats' water don't look at me like that the photo above is our ravaged state park the road to which was closed due to fallen trees not just limbs but trees were literally torn from the extremely dry ground by wind and slammed into the road all over the island and it was scary it was the noise just horrifying I have never been in a tornado or a hurricane but I can well imagine one now Summer's End fared spectacularly well huge branches on the deck and over the forest and on top of my garden plots but no windows crashed in no roof damage no car damage but goddamn the noise and now there is no one to care for the park at all now that the goddamn government is closed

in other news my Boeing pension has been cut by a third thanks to the raging hemorrhoid in the very white house a literal third due to taxation and that of course is my living money I earned working for so many years in the factory and of course it is the wealthy who get richer which we all knew I shudder to think what my house taxes will be this year and I give thanks for whatever gut instinct told me to shut out virtually every piece of advice I received regarding setting up a mortgage and car payments for myself because I won't lose the house or get my car repossessed and I am no stranger to belt tightening and I had a day of panic and fear and today I bounced up all happy and humming in the kitchen which makes me suspect I'm about to enter a manic swing which has not yet descended and so in this small window of sane I am writing

to tell you I love you to tell you I got a note from Tom reminding me who I am which drew me here to tell you I am reading your blogs but still cannot comment on them to tell you I miss you all I miss connecting with you here to tell you I am so grateful for our time here in this flat blue world our time as a family to tell you that Jupiter is about to turn four years old the feral kittens are now nine months Hal never leaves my side and Wolf is Page's cat they have clearly chosen their humans Jupiter is such a superb mother to tell you that I will come back but now my toe is infected again the same toe that the foot crusher healed five years ago a boil beginning to erupt on its tender top to tell you I have no health insurance except medicare to tell you to hang on hang on for dear life because you never know when you will turn a corner into a sunlit room with peonies in the window and a cat on your lap

sending love and a pile of cats from my house to yours


Monday, December 10, 2018

There is a prose excerpt from Queer Wing-ed at Burning House Press the first prose from my book to be published EVER and I am quite excited about it please go read if you can and leave a comment if the spirit or the Holy Bat moves you to do so the theme for the issue was Doors which of course I read as portals because I yam what I yam

Also on my to-do list for today is wash my hair

Love from the blacktail forest I hope this post sticks as blogger ate it the first time I posted it


I am still broken and I have to I mean I really must have to drive to the bait&tackle today but yesterday I walked up the hill to fetch the mail and that took time as I was careful but coming back down the hill made me hiss with pain and today it is raining I ache and ache and I'm going to drive dammit because I am alone here with cats who refuse to go fetch anything whatsoever from any store at all the little bastids I will write more once I have a lap again for my laptop I am still mostly stretched out with my leg extended on a pillow w/ ice and w/ aspirin and w/ ace bandage et al ugh


Saturday, December 8, 2018

Tuesday, December 4, 2018

We can’t all be winners part 2

I just walked out the door for my daily foray to the beach stepped off the porch and my knee collapsed and I landed on my butt with my left arm on a frozen pumpkin and my right arm on my purse which probably saved my wrists fortunately my son is here and he helped me navigate the step back into the house and into my bed where I will probably starve to death for the next few days because he is so fucking healthy and at least for the moment I cannot make it to the kitchen so no soup and no bread either not even the monster kind it’s vegetables and fruit for me maybe a small cube of cheese if I beg

Where is all that illegal OxyContin when you really kneed it (I despise puns but there it is) oh god I have to fucking just lie here and listen to the pioneer woman squeal on and on btw did you know she and her little family are the 6th largest land owners in the US please don’t buy her crap at WalFart

I may become a nuciance here on account of sudden and severe lack of mobility

Look at Prince Hal he has become a major cat


I just asked my son to pop a bagel in the toaster for me and he said do you want me to make you some eggs they’re so much better for you and I had to say NO A BAGEL IS FINE WITH BUTTER see what I mean? and now he’s threatening not to leave for the orchard Thursday as he had previously planned

We can't all be winners

the most simple honey wheat sandwich bread gone horribly awry honestly I don't even know why I put it in the oven after this nightmare umm...rose... and continued to rise you can see where the very crown of the bread touched the top element of the oven

other than that monstrosity which Ivy Alvarez said looks like one of Ronald Reagan's hairdos I have been okay dealing with this lingering depression which feels like it's gone then pops back in to create havoc in my brain spaces I woke up the day before yesterday and my left knee was stiff so stiff I couldn't bend it and aching like the best swear word your grandpa ever said so I immediately googled CANCER KNEE because I always go to the extreme worst thing that could possibly happen but alas google told me that I was fat and sedentary and old which I already knew plus toss in the fact that I was kneeling in frozen mud to trim back a crapload of potatoes that unexpected sprang forth in my garden bed under my tulip bulbs for an hour and yesterday when I woke up the CANCER KNEE was gone leaving just a little stiffness in the back and now I'm sitting cross legged as I always do the sun is out it is 30 degrees Wolfie has a clicking noise in her head but I googled my kitten's head clicks and all I found was that kittens also teethe at six months old so I'm hoping it's a molar and that I don't have to swallow my savings account with kitten head surgery

it is December I put up all my Santa and Forest Animal decor and lights around the big front windows in hopes that I can shake this floating anxiety that might have as much to do with the news as it does with my mental illness I got out my advent calendar house which is shaped like an old pointy church with twenty five doors in it and I crammed a tiny chocolate snowman and a tiny chocolate teddy bear into each door by snapping off their respective heads still delicious I am told my houseplants continue to thrive in spite of my usual depression related depression plant-o-cide I have decided to really make a low and non-spendy Christmas for myself because I still can't afford to replace my glasses and it always makes me feel nasty to spend so much on crap for instance I'm still eating Thanksgiving dinner this year I'm making a spinach quiche and some guacamole and some beans for Christmas dinner and that is that

hello from the blacktail forest Darklings
it feels like I've been gone forever and I've missed you
I have good news on the writing front but I can't tell it here for fear of jinxing it

time to make soup


Wednesday, November 21, 2018

Pig and farm report

Last night something terrible happened to someone I love it was neither my son nor I but I had to go to a hospital in Seattle to see this person and that’s all I can write about it

Last night I had a sex dream about Tom Cruise and in the next dream I was driving the wrong way on the freeway into oncoming holiday traffic

This morning I baked a pumpkin pie then I had to go to the grocery store for baby spinach and a red onion

I have been well but deep quiet in my guts

I kept seeing photos of dead animals i.e. meat on Twitter today so I shut my phone off also I feel shook over the news of yesterday and I can’t deal with any more news at all

I do not give a fuck for this gorge fest of a holiday though I will put cinnamon whipped cream in my coffee tomorrow morning

I’m reading book after book I am reading like a starving person eats bread

Love from my corner of the forest

Saturday, November 17, 2018

Pig and farm report

  "You do not understand pigs," said the bird, whirling. "Pigs have an angel." Whereupon she whistled like an express train and a small cactus rose out of the earth and slid into the bowl which the bird had left at her feet.
 She said: "Piu, Piu, Little Servant, cut yourself into bits and feed yourself to the pigs so they become inspired with Pig Angel."
  The cactus called Piu cut himself into little round bits with a knife so sharp and fast it was impossible to behold.

A Mexican Fairytale, from The Complete Stories Of Leonora Carrington


All I have been doing is reading my depression is gone but my brain is slow moving and thick though I cleaned the house top to bottom I am sleeping at night though each morning I wake at 2:30 AM the milk hour and Jupiter comes in and leans her heavy silken weight against me and purrs and that allows me to go back to sleep

I haven't talked to my neighbor since our first encounter but yesterday I went out and cut all the snow berries the long bendy branches as many as I could carry because she wanted them to make wreaths and they are all over my forest and I took them to her house and knocked but she didn't answer or wasn't there so I left them on her step with a pot of raspberry jam that I made last summer I suspect she is shy in the way that I am shy

three nights ago I went into the pitch black forest to fetch the mail not even a star to see and there are no street lights here I thought I knew the path by heart I thought I was fleet footed but I stepped on a large rock with my right foot and crashed down onto my right side feeling first to make sure the lens hadn't come free from my glasses then sitting on the rock then standing and as I made my way back down the hill to the house I thought I had a concussion because I could not see out of my left eye but it turns out I had drastically bent my glasses frame so I was only seeing out of one eye I have a bruised cheek and a goose egg on my left shin and a goose egg on my right shin and a banged up right knee and an appointment with the next town over optometrist next week

this morning the sun is out and it is cold and I made the graham cracker crust for a cheesecake and my kitchen smelled like Jesus's baptism day and then realized that I have no sour cream for the batter or strawberries for the coulis so today will be a store day which I dread 

Leonora Carrington is kicking me all over the place such rich and fantastical writing that and the safety and comfort of this house and my Animal Gods keep me afloat these days waiting waiting for my feathers my fire to return

Love to you Darklings now that the nights are stretched into days pray for me and the two turkeys who live next door to Jack the Egg Man where the Andy Warhol chicken lives one gray one black everyday everyday everyday I check to make sure they are still alive this is a version of hope