Every Woman Over 40 Should Have a Gay Boyfriend – #102

Me:  I bought some lipgloss today. GB: ...

Every Woman Over 40 Should Have a Gay Boyfriend #101

“You look nice. Your hair is curlier,” says GBF when he sits down at the table. We meet someplace every Tuesday night for dinner. Tonight was the Ryzome Cafe. “How can it be curlier, it’s getting longer.” I say. “I don’t know, it just is. I like it.” Huh. Sure enough, when I go into the women’s restroom and take a look at my hair, it does look curlier. “You’re right,” I tell GBF upon my return. “You must be happy. Happiness makes your hair look...

Dropped Pages: solar strings

This was a poem dropped from Her Red Book. I still might include it in another book. solar strings dust is beautiful it floats in the stratosphere above the cumulonimbus and diffuses the waves making the sky blue azuring the eyes of the nomadic poet who learns the names of constellations like pop songs singing them in her head without sound with only light electromagnetic rays that bounce around the nape of her heart because in the middle world there is a such thing as sunshine Jump on The Monday Night Poetry Train The words “middle world” did not appear in the original poem. I borrowed them after hearing this wonderful post on TED. If you have 20 minutes to spare, this will curl your brain: Richard Dawkins Speaks on our Queer...

dropped pages: girl moves to woods

I’ve been very absent around here. Life got away from me for a while. Just finished my gig on the Nickelodeon film and our house renovations are down to the details. No more drywall! Woop-woop! The following poem isn’t really a dropped page as I don’t think I’d even considered it for any of my books. In any case, here it is, written 10 years ago while living in Seattle. It still doesn’t quite work, but I like the sentiment. girl leaves suburbs, moves to woods, builds log cabin words connect her to earth plant her among cousins just running around she prefers life lived out terraced jungles that grow physical something strong that breaks from classic nuclear TV dinner says joyful is someplace arrived twleve years toiled with the...

Dropped Pages: On the Night She Signed up for French Lessons

This is an odd little poem that was dropped from Her Red Book. (I’m not sure how the title relates… I think I literally signed up for French Lessons that evening.) ~ ~ ~ On the Night She Signed up for French Lessons The heat getting to her she was hallucinating one postcard from Gualala and she’s got the Pulitzer Prize Never mind the extra weight since she’s turned to chocolate cigarettes from Holland putting back everything she’s ever stolen a glance a minute or two in the executive chair with her eyes closed Funny thing was every time she stepped out of the kitchen she was startled by a man sitting at the diningroom table turns out it was only her raincoat and a potted cactus She sees familiar names in NY magazines and thinks I’ve got to get...