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arresting RUBY

see it through my eyes... I'm always looking

Monday, February 06, 2006


I thought of you as I sped down the highway
with my booty of shells on the dash.
how you held my gaze steady for a good twelve seconds
and teased me with the wildness in your eyes.

foolish me,
I slid down my car window as if to make me closer still
but you turned and bounded away,

.: posted by Brooke 4:05 PM

Friday, December 23, 2005


I woke up with Britney Spears this morning
I am not a fan of her music
but I remember her flesh was very firm.
This occurred to me as I was making soup,
choosing lentils over dry peas
chopping carrots,
I am the flash of thigh,
and the maiden's heart,
and the lust in the old man's eye.
I bought a chocolate bar when I stopped for gas later
they're executing a man tonight.

.: posted by Brooke 3:34 PM

Wednesday, November 30, 2005


.: posted by Brooke 9:26 PM

Friday, April 09, 2004


Distilling down my life into a small hard nugget
Oops the squirrel runs away with me

Lets See

see if
I can balance

big sweet
ass right along

razor sharp

Well how
about my hand

this paper
shredder, or maybe

about that
hot iron over

Hold it
against my face.

of this
nonsense, this plane

to be
brought in safely.

it in.
Now walk very

forward into
the whacking propellor.


Sits there
Square and heavy

Just flows
All around it

up and gone

I've run off with my life, running it into the ground, taking the doughnut, leaving the hole
days flying by like confetti
Sweep em up later
They'll sigh and say she was a good woman, a responsible gal,
but she up and ran off with herself.
No one seen hide or hair ever since she caught a glimpse in that fancy glass.


lit that
Salt-peter filament

You showed
me how to

It. You
lined up the

of cotton
and lit them

by one
silently. I knew

were showing
me something important

flamed up
fast, hot, bright

then gone
leaving no trace

my eyes
blinded for a

flash, bright
gone, a moment


Thick Books

like a
tome, a thick

difficult to
read, sometimes confounding

whole chapters
that demand debate

aint no
shelf, dependable and

just sitting
there holding lots

sometimes straining
with the

She’s more
like the reader

through the
pages, eating a

sandwich, writing
in the margins,

up to
another project, tossing

book in
her purse

.: posted by Brooke 4:28 PM

Monday, April 05, 2004


Thank God

The first glorious swoon of Spring is over
and I can stop blushing and get some work done.

Showering the barren earth with food
is not how you make things grow.
Sometimes it’s best to stay out of the way,
don’t block the sun
and offer up only prayer.

Venus been hanging out imprisoned with Mars too long

Growing lean,
Going hungry
Its bones against bones
Its bone on bone
Hands between bars

give her a finger full of food.

let her die
in a cold corner
with you,
all alone.


We met a man at a dinner party and we chatted
of death and the loss of his wife of 17 years

who he loved so much that his eyes were wet
even over chocolate cake and 6 years of time.

They never spoke of her departure
even though they both knew of her prognosis,

her rapidly declining health,
and the sands of time slipping fast through their fingers.

We teased and comforted him in turn
all the while feeling her presence in the room,

for he brought her there to the party
and carried her around upon his shoulders

and I am sure she is with him yet.
for they never speak of her departure.

asking little

I see the strange beauty more clearly
but it’s the streaks that fascinate me
the brilliant brittle streaks of tenderness in the flinty rock
life asking little

So what are you afraid of?
hide behind that smoke of your own making
like that will keep you free from risk

remain untouched, unmoved
but life is changing more than you know
sooner than you know

you're approaching something larger
witnessing something
stay back along the edges though

things develop in the edges
The edges that peel back, blister up, fragile.
The edges that overlap

Just the edges
Life around the edges
The overlap

.: posted by Brooke 10:52 PM

Thursday, April 01, 2004

*homage to Rumi

Crazy Love-Fest of Spring

Its spring and the world is in love with itself
and you and I.
See how it seduces us
with bouquets of pink trees

and busy cupid, enlisting thousands of assistants
for enthusiastic earth
who yearns
for the affections of her suitor,
the sun, smiles.

Even the moon, a chronic romantic,
Shines a deeper beam upon the water,
his pearly face turned sideways.

Do you hear the rustling of the branches in the wind,
whispering to all who anticipate?
A cacophony of song
with the moon playing bass.

Yes, the worlds having a party
And we’re all invited
every flower an RSVP
and see how that sky shows us how to pray!
It sends a letter to the unrequited.
Saying “this is how it’s done’

And do the stars look down in envy
at the enchanted earth
outshining them with desire?

And oh to die in spring must be the sweetest of sad good-byes
but let us not talk of such things today
you are here
and daffodils are dancing
hope is playing flute
and the grass has never sang so green.



a Fable

A happy woman met a shaman on the road.
It was neither his astounding tricks he shared nor his sleight of hand
but the magic of his spirit, dancing bold that caught her eye

And like a silly goose she soared and slipped and fell
till landing, shattered,
on her face.

And the small bird of her body flew free toward the moonlight in his hair
And nestled there
And refused to return
to the shards that remained,
broken on the stones.

With that loss she was adrift in illusion.
“A drowning woman reaches out for anything”
and cast upon a salty sea
a raft of her own making

she threw her safe life overboard
And would not recognize herself
Only wanting the other
Only wanting someone else.

lamenting her foolish ways
recounting her careless path
she floundered in the deep marine
till the waves swept her to exhaustion

and there on that shoreline
between dissolution and rebirth
the stillness became her ally
and channeled her to self-compassion

where she forgave her swollen heart
for the longing of its own feral beauty
she had seen reflected back
in the gaze of one so self possessed.

and with that the bird came near
and circled round her weary head
and landed upon her tender breast
and is with her ever still.

Now had she read her horoscope for that Friday....

Here is your horoscope for Friday:
If somebody rejects your interest, it's probably for the best. Retreat to your safety zone and distract yourself with things that please you. By next week, you'll be able to laugh at this whole episode.

...well we wouldnt have the fable now would we?

.: posted by Brooke 7:55 PM

Friday, March 12, 2004



It’s just as well…

For I would want more than a pound of flesh
I would want to merge souls
I would call out your name till it sang back
And I would surrender
until we could not discern your skin from mine

I’d dance within that gleam of your eye
Wild juxtapositions against the starlit sky
And demand we laugh ourselves to complete
And if you were shy at moments,

As lovers can be
I would hold your hand and
Pulling you along
Till you, being the gentleman that you are,
Caught me in midair

And I became your parachute
Opening it's billows of colored silk until
We landed softly on the sand
Where we would, once again
Pound out our rhythm to the heavens.

The Dog Dreams

The dog’s asleep under the kitchen table,
Eyelids a flutter, her whine barely audible

She’s dreaming of cats and birds
and drives out to the ocean for long runs,

the beach that never ends
And eternal homecomings full of petting hands.

All the things she loves the most.

She dreams of me opening the refrigerator again and again
And emptying it of its contents;

A block of cheese, last nights cold chicken
And (it’s her dream) a stick of butter.

She dreams herself juggling with the boy,
head thrown back and paws articulating expertly,

and then there’s wild music and dancing
with the lady of the house.

And when she tires,
The dog dreams of curling up with her master,

her soft ears over his shoulder on the great white bed
While the cats have to watch on, just being cats.

.: posted by Brooke 3:45 PM