3 Poems from UniVerse
oppression has no genitals
no skin color
oppression comes in every
size and shape
oppression wears a thousand masks
and hides round every corner
sneaks into your house
lies in your bed
just when you thought you were safe
oppression likes to disguise itself as freedom
yells the loudest
hurls the first stone
while freedom sits quietly
nowhere else but
inside you
i know now
what my mother felt
when blood was shed
in her mid years
and she cried out
the grief of mothers feeling the grief of mothers
she cried out
to the deaf ears of neighbors
they were annoyed
by her compassion
she was a
radical a
rabble rouser a
madwoman who didn’t know
any better than to
cry for children on the
other side of the world
A small army of
ants
attracted,
like sharks,
to the sweet smell
of blood,
marches all over
the bucket containing
used cardboard
tampon applicators.
There’s no
accounting for taste.
2 Poems from Bi-Cycles
We claim our own:
Sappho
Bessie Smith
Frida Kahlo
We claim our own:
Walt Whitman
Oscar Wilde
Langston Hughes
Keep them in your archives
yes
you’re welcome to them
as you are to us
I am bisexual
I am gay
I am lesbian
Count me in your history books
fighting side by side
for the right to love a same-sex lover
and not be persecuted for it
Surely, swell the ranks
James Dean
Virginia Woolf
Alice Walker
Boast about
Colette
Gore Vidal
Josephine Baker
Whisper rumors
document
the (often hidden) gay lives
of famous people
who have given to the world
But don’t then
turn around and tell me
I don’t belong here.
If you claim bisexual cannot mean gay,
then purge your history books
of so many names
that swell your breast with pride –
names of people who have also loved
both sexes.
my answering machine informed me
you have been inundated with writing
by multiracial women
on every subject except
being multiracial
this is not a subject we write about
we have barely begun to speak
there is danger in writing of this
the loyalty guards are always lurking
“Which side are you on?”
we have been accused of not being
Black enough,
Asian enough,
Native enough,
assimilated,
coffee
diluted with cream
we have heard,
“The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice”
and we have been treated as less than ripe
we have bent over backwards
to be half accepted
as if we were less than precious and whole
we have travelled inevitably
through several worlds
at home in each, and at the same time
a stranger
we experience a unique vantage point
unique but devalued
we write
but not of this
we talk of our loyalty
our fierce commitment to our people
we attach all our pain to the “half” of us
which is of the oppressed
we are still trying to wring acceptance
from a people who are still struggling
to accept themselves
we don’t dare to accuse them
of the racism we experience
from every side
with such a heart-felt life
of course we write
but not of this
3 Poems from The Love That Wasn't
the thin curved limbs of the tree
like your tender arms
holding me
away from you
the light of a lonely star
in the blue evening sky
like the heart in your eyes
so brilliant
so far away
the sweet pain
of loving you
even without the height of bliss
were you to return it,
I feel yet the depth of my being
and though it be a sharp
and pointed sword
that wounds me clear through,
I bless the love
that wakens my heart
to the secret expanse
of my soul
Emily (Dickenson)
Oh! Emily,
it’s not my brother’s wife
I love
but just as unavailable
(more so, I’m afraid)
Oh, Emily,
to love a life so full
of thought, of love, of poetry
of unrequited passion
but what a price that’s paid!
Oh, Emily!
wouldn’t you trade
voluminous prolificity
elegance and insight
for a lifetime of her love?
Oh, poet, tell me,
after the heart is through gyrating
do you rest in peace at last
or
do you turn, still, in your grave?
1 Poem from Journey Through Hell
I want to rage at you
to scream
how could you do this to me?
how could you do this to all of us?
how could you do this to yourself?
I want to scream and rage at you
as loud as I possibly can
but all I feel is sorrow, sorrow
an all-engulfing pit
of sorrow and anguish
that you could possibly
feel so much pain
that you could not face
another day
another hour
another minute of life
I want to rage at you
for all the pain you left behind
but instead
I just keep drowning in your sorrow.
9 Poems from The Love That Is
she said “I love you”
and the fairy dust fell from the air
and settled at my feet;
the earth stopped shaking
and placed itself in my hands;
my heart stopped trembling,
burst the dam,
and flowed everywhere
the haze lifted
as a torrent of tears
released from my eyes
when we parted
and as my heart melted
the dream hardened into reality
from the kiln of mutuality
the puppet became
a real boy
the world stopped its dizzying spinning
and stood still
and I knew
life
would never be the same 7/12/04
the process of watching
your heart gently open
cautiously with hesitation,
slowly but surely,
the love seeping out
from the eyes that you try to hide,
the words
taking you by surprise,
the obvious caring,
the cautious happiness,
the faltering trepidation,
your foot on the brake
ever so lightly
to slow, but not stop
this marvelous thing,
it is
more beautiful than the roses
unfolding
as miraculous
as a baby’s birth
watching you open your heart and
gradually let yourself
fall in love with me
is the most
awesome sight in the world 7/12/04
time stopped
when our hearts struck gold
and you were shocked
at the timelessness
and insisted
there must be time
but time had stopped
some realities
are deeper than time
ask a physicist
how real is time really?
your fear
is as real and deep
as my obsession
can you work on it?
there is something more real
than fear or obsession
more real than loss or death
something beyond reason
beyond description
it is in our hearts
waiting to be welcomed
10/16/04
the dance
we took
two steps forward
then ten
and it was a wonderful waltz
into magic
until you felt
claustrophobic
in my arms
and stopped the music
you pulled away
chose another partner
all the while
keeping an eye on me
I go thru dance partners
like used tissues
no one fills your shoes
I long to tear you away
from your false lover
but you need air
and I must let you breathe
the musicians keep on playing
as if nothing were wrong
as if it didn’t matter
who you dance with
if I flee this dance at midnight
leaving one tennis shoe behind
will you search until you find
the one true fit? 10/17/04
where they come from
sometimes
they claw their way out of me
poems I never meant to write
sometimes I vomit them up
can't keep them down
the angry poems
you didn't want to see
I didn't want to show you
sometimes they take me by the throat
and I must
shout them out at you
or they will choke me
and then I am slayed by the tears
you hold inside
shamed by my anger
humbled by futility
and I crawl back into
the fetal lock of bones and
confinement
and wait for the next
violent storm
to give me a window on
life
11/24/04
and I will let you
reach in once again
and take my bloody heart in your hands
and caress it until
it beats only for you
and opens to reveal all its secrets
and trusts you with its life
and I will do this trembling
with fear
that once again
you’ll leave my bleeding heart
on a cold block of concrete
in the snow
and fly away
to meet another love
and my heart wonders
how I dare
expose it again, unprotected
vulnerable, fragile
but it is my heart, after all,
that won’t let me
hide 11/24/04
in answer to your question
love is deeper
than all the contradictions
which confront us
-not just any love
but this love-
love is realer
than all the structures of society
built over millennia
through accident and intent
love is stronger
than the ignorance that surrounds us
love may not move mountains
but it can move us through them
love may not stop the runaway train
but it might whisper in our ears
to leave the track in time
or maybe love
so deep and real and strong
might be worth dying for
if it ever came to that
so, no, I will not let
small minds, to my left OR my right
determine my course
I do not need
the stamp of approval
of any group
branded on my skin
there is nothing that could ever be
right or just or correct
about any stance or idea or belief
that interferes, condemns or belittles
a love
so deep and real and strong
as this
5/23/05
the work I love to do
is planning ways
to make you smile
finding treasures
for your heart
digging deep
to strike the oil
the work I love to do
is piecing words into a gift
making mirrors
out of sand
drawing pictures of the beauty
that you are
the work I love to do
is teaching you
to trust my heart
better yet
to trust your own
finding ways
to help you see
the beauty that you are
the work I love to do
is being two
instead of one
giving in so easily
teaching me to trust your heart
letting go of all the knots
letting love take all control
the work I love to do
is loving you
7-31-06
you are the counterweight
to everything in my
“some things you never get over” poem
you are the song of a nightingale
drowning out the screams
you are cool breezes in Kauai
blowing away the putrid fumes of hell
you are a feast
for a plate almost empty for too long
you are tropical foliage
taking over the desert
I know you don't believe in angels
but you are the angel that tamed my demons
and brought heaven
into my life 10/27/2020
1 Poem from Crone I
(21st century poems)
My People, Please hear me
how to speak
the unspeakable
draw pictures
that eyes will flee
clamp shut
like deniers of holocaust
or those who shout
“Never Again”
who mean
“never again will we let it
happen to US
we will rage
until tens of thousands of dead bodies prove
our commitment
to ourselves”
how to share
just the right words
to assure you that I
see your fear
your horror
your grief
your fury
how to break through your
trauma
and convince you
that the people on whose heads
you bombard your revenge
are as innocent as the great
grandparents you mourn
your press has forever told you lies
told you that your cousins
over whose land you fought
and won
are “animals, beasts”
are “all terrorists,”
so you must lock them all up
in what little land you’ve left them,
you must slaughter 10 of their children
for every armed rebel that kills one of yours,
and if decades of eviction, captivity, theft and oppression
spawn a gang of militants
whose bloodthirsty inhumanity matches
that of the leaders you elect,
then it’s okay
to bomb them ALL into oblivion
bomb their homes, and their schools, and their hospitals,
wipe them ALL off the face of the map
as someone tried to do to us
not so long ago
now we wear our shoe on the other foot
how can you really believe
(as Hitler did)
that you can build your utopia
on the genocide of others?
that you can wipe out evil and threat
by killing the families, the culture, the race
of those you oppose
in revenge for their angry sons?
how can you believe this will make you
safe?
every injustice piled upon thousands,
every innocent child, mother, brother
murdered like ants
every hospital, school, apartment house
flattened, every
poet, teacher, doctor, historian, fisherman, holy woman, young girl,
aspiring student, adorable baby, struggling orphan, homeless musician,
social worker, grocer, cook, panhandler, feminist, ecologist, farmer, hairdresser,
athlete, laborer, parent, childcare worker, good friend, peacemaker
dying quickly or agonizingly crushed under rubble or
torturously burned to death
will not bring peace
will not bring a safer world for us
these “casualties,”
mere statistics to you,
as only OUR victims’
faces are shown,
only OUR victims’
stories are told,
only OUR victims matter
we have suffered injustice, prejudice, pogroms
we have suffered hate and genocide
we were almost wiped off the map
and they who we are killing now
have suffered injustice, prejudice,
forced into ghettos,
ever shrinking reservations,
separated, denied connection, denied decent living
and now, denied life
please hear me
through your pain and trauma,
through your fear, your desire for safety:
your leaders lie
your leaders brought this on you
please hear me:
taking genocide into our own hands
wielding instead of suffering it,
will not bring utopia for us or our children
will not ever make us safe
12/13/2023
5 Poems from Crone II
<
once again
hearts in flames
light the night sky
blot out the moon
in their fury
ashes piled high
over concrete and rubble
bones
broken bones
everywhere
grief
so ubiquitous
it can’t be seen
blends in with the dust
filling the air
while children
climb through the nightmare
seeking remnants
of a childhood
that never
will be
4/13/2025
The blind poet
sits in the sun by the sea
on a Tuesday
speaking her poems out loud
never knowing if anyone hears
other than the birds
who twitter delightfully
at their favorite lines
as the sun slowly sinks
the waves lap up the sand
until they reach her toes
the better to hear her lovely voice
echoing through seashells
the wind carries her words
to slithering snakes
and hordes of collaborating ants
no human ear
is sensed nearby
they don’t know what they’re missing
4/15/2025
When grief is stronger than therapy,
deeper than mood,
where do you go?
When world
teeters toward
emptiness,
teeth of cruelty
take over the planet,
death looms larger than life,
and when you see children
and ask yourself
what will be left for their lives?
and all that once filled your life
with joy as well as pain
recedes and threatens only
emptiness…
What will meditation bring?
What therapist can make you unsee
the mountains of doom surrounding?
When grief is stronger than therapy,
deeper than mood,
where do you go?
9/12/2025
January 24, 2026
I knew what I was
watching
I had read the article first
and, of course I knew
who they had killed before
but this time,
Bam! Bam! Bam!
so sudden and so loud
it hit me in the gut
the shock and the horror
as if I were there
as if it were me
Bam! Bam! Bam!
without a moment’s thought
my chest caved in
my head fell into my hands
and I sobbed uncontrollably
At the last media-headlined
government-sponsored
murder-for-hire
on January seventh
the tune kept reeling through my head,
“Four dead in Ohio”
But this time
no memories, no song
just the shock and horror
Bam! Bam! Bam!
and the understanding
that Kristallnacht is upon us
and they will not stop
until we stop them
Bam! Bam! Bam!
the poet, a bullet to her head
Bam! Bam! Bam!
the intensive care nurse
Bam! Bam! Bam!
and 35 others before them
killed in ICE cold blood
I cried for
several minutes
and then I stood up
and got myself ready
to fight against
this fascist dictatorship
before they come for me
and you
and everyone we love
–
1/24/2026
To my wife, the love of my life since 2004
You are so much more
than everything I ever dreamed of
So much more
than I can ever say.
What you give me
makes my life worth living
even in
the darkest of our days.
You are so much more
even if you don’t believe me
Even if you do not know
how wonderful you are
No matter what life throws at me
No matter how few years I may have left
You are so much more
than all I need to get me through
And you will always be
my brightest star.
5/31/2026