S(he)’s a Monster

What’s a father for?—when the Three Blue Faeries—Terra, Stella, and Luna—take the Three Sisters away, deep into the Blue Forest.


What’s a father for?

Father taught me how to roar, blind-red punch hand through glass to make him understand the end of victim.


What’s a father for when he will not rescue the taken, and instead pops a cold can of Budweiser.

What’s a father for when S(he) never sees him because S(he) has built a wall to hide from father.



A broken shard, a mirror reflecting blinding light, S(he) caught her reflection and said, “Monster.” 

S(he) swallowed the jagged, broken-self, without crunching on matter.



There is a schism in the sangha, ancestral witches curse the reborn S(he) after the father’s body lies lifeless on white hospice bed sheets, cold; no more morphine dripdrip; there is a tear in the left eye before Goodbye.


S(he) prays for another year. Grandmother waits, leaves when the year is up.


S(he) speaks from ash, sees through bones, into marrow infusing an antidote to memory.

S(he) forgets blue, plays the sound instead.


S(he) could not feel one loss after another, two years, father and Grandmother gone. On the day the butterfly flurry flew to heaven, S(he) could not speak, could not feel, the cold dark pit of a stomach called out, but no one came.  Though she could see dancing rainbow light, a lasting piece of Grandmother, S(he) could not see, blind, she became.


(S)he turns the light lavender key against sky blues and escapes underground green tunnel.


What is a father for?—when S(he) was loved unconditionally by True Love. A baby blue breath. S(he) woke in his arms for years after wrapping her thick dark red knuckle bones, too young to care for True Love.  S(he) only knew how to make it bleed, crimson ooze out of holes, hers and his. S(he) could not see the light well S(he) fell into long before fallen father. S(he) told True Love stories. S(he) cried, too much.


True Love stopped listening, even when it asked for her hand in marriage.

Promises are meant to be broken.


They didn’t erase difference, they embraced with holey hearts; loved like no other love.  There are no others. With infant eyes, S(he) cannot see difference; just more, possessed to evolve wanting, more, suck the marrow, spit and repeat.

Suck the marrow, spit.


S(he) couldn’t see: a poisoned womb, black hole filled with dust, dried blood, no love orphan. Love-child-hood play means pretend; not knowing how to see tree limbs ablaze, nipples strung by wires to connect blue veins.





Ran to the trees, to the ocean

“to build a home”



“A person is not a home.”



She hid behind a Redwood curtain, S(he) followed the Kinetic Sculpture Race to Cannibal Island. S(he) wasn’t looking, didn’t look back. S(he) found a Lover and named a found puppy “Bello.” S(he) thought, a way to sever the knot jammed down her throat—the way out of the desert to the trees.


Inside the Cave of Lover, S(he)crawled on hands, knees, sore from too many falls.  Inside, S(he) came closer to the pain, to its relief.


The pelvis lifts up, to push out… nightmares, (S)he pleads:

(yet we can barely make out the sound—sometimes there is no sound).

(S)he desires to harm because (S)he hurts.

The switch from lover to monster came easy.

(S)he asked where the anger lies—the sleeping giant, a dormant temper-tantrum-child.

(S)he, on all fours, beat the ground with rolled fists, scraped knuckle bones bare.



(S)he wants to be inside

Even if it hurts

Once inside,  S(he) only saw red, black-out lights, the glow from the ceiling of stars and extra-terrestrials grew dim, the faint noise roared back once S(he) saw Lover cower, cover his face, as if to protect love from a bloody nose, a black eye.


S(he) moved her body over Lover, reached into the dark chamber throat, freeing speech, opening the flood gates by severing the knot inside the throat with the pointed edge of the mirror. S(he) could see his internal bruising headache after the repeated blows her fist commands.


S(he) came

to kill




(S)he remembers:

Mold speckled walls S(he) and Lover scrubbed together grew dark as they sneezed cat and dog coats to wear that winter.


S(he) sees:

Blues eyes, sky light, blue as night, as truth floods hazel field, finger tips and toes blue, lips and teeth stained blueberry. (S)he, the Three Sisters, three b-flat clarinetists, finger-tongue scat-scat-scattered memories. (S)he’s a Drummer, a Dancer, it’s a Danger to forget they are blue underneath light-olive, creamy-pink, and summer sun soaked skin.

What’s a father for?

When there is no rescue.


When the Blue Fairies take the three daughters of father away deep into the Blue Forest, S(he) wanders the forest in search, picking up pieces, ash, bone, feathers, wood, to find a way to re-mind father—to conjure his spirit into the life force of another.


The blue light lured her inside the teepee Summer Solstice ceremony.  Star lights danced as Fire Man’s limb broke in the smoky fireplace. Fire Man stared straight into her and said, “Leave then.” They could not keep her inside.  The wind howled at the white canvas teepee. Internal flames and drumsongs kept her safe. The Road Man draws in the sand, charcoal and blessings with feather, song, smoke in the water. The tribe inhales cedar, healing together, singing, purging the ego one by one to be one, the medicine gathered and called the demons out.


The Door Man says, “You’re getting well, don’t be sorry Sister.”


The Cedar Man indicates more medicine; “We need more to drown the system, flood the gates, draw the animal form and dance—is necessarily life.” The fire waves, an ocean of forgiveness and the monster roars to life, swirls to the tip top of teepee, released into the black-star-light night, the moon shadows, waves

fare-thee-well, onto mountain lands, you will find a family.


she stares into the fire.

Hears the Moon howl:

Fire is not a Liar, the Poker too hot, a court Jester, too cool blood boils a neck noose Choker.

Air, bare, stare into the void, sitting, breath floods the body.

Dancing-twirling-flailing aerial cocoon twists under moonlight.


Morning blue sky, no clouds, green thin forest, snow caps off in the distance; she can still hear the bird song.

“The songs will come to you, the medicine will always be with you.”


At day break, they all say, “Thank you for sitting up.”

she holds the broken mirror up to the sun, the light reflects her eyes, she can see, cannot rid herself of the pinky-red-orange-yellow-golden-green-blue-lavender light that has taken her vision.

she cannot hold the sight in her hands for long.


Dear Gram

(S)he wanted to love

To be loved


(S)he lost father, mother

Grandmother became only mother

Lost Los Angelina Latina, 16: seeks husband

(S)he had to marry, give birth, to save familia


(S)he endured the fight

until too many punch-drunk-blows

With babes in arms: she ran out into the deep blue night

To comadres’ one bedroom homes




Her babies lived and died, in and out of the womb. 

(S)he fought to save her baby’s life.  He pushed her down the stairs. 

Pregnant with polio, a cerebral palsy daughter, twisted infant legs straightened with hot bricks.

(S)he became mother when she learned to walk.




the fathers raped their mother

the fathers beat their mother

the fathers threatened to murder

(S)he continued to love

Her children

Afraid of his touch



Some lived to have their own children who endured uncontrolled hysteria from their fathers. 

Some stopped telling stories to forget, to create their own spiral spring.

(S)he was a grandmother, (S)he fought with mothers to protect her grandchildren.







After she left one man for the next

Heart break after heart broken sore

Children, Grandchildren

lived the stories, listened to the heart beat

the memory

sitting on her lap




(S)he breaks through the door swinging an ax, the loud blade chops, fractures wood. 

(S)he is grief, and grief is monster, and so (S)he is monster, haunted by memory until it went away. 

The lungs forgot to breathe. 




Oh mija: (S)he places her head on Gram’s shoulder, hand holding tears well.

(S)he can still make out her wavy face, the way a smile frowns.


(S)he sews buttons into skin

to close the heart

to cover the screams

(S)he speaks through dark chambers

(S)he has forgotten

loose change between stained cushions

(S)he sings lullabies to sleep

coupled with warm milk

a thin film at the top

Black blood flies land

(S)he swallows

(S)he can’t remember where (S)he is, if (S)he is home

(S)he tells new stories of places (S)he’s never been

Paris, France

(S)he sits quietly, waiting, eyes fixed out the window



When you visit (S)he asks, Where did you come from?

(S)he speaks to ghosts and swats the black blood flies you cannot see.

(S)he catches them in plastic, air tight containers to suffocate the buzz.



Organs forget to function

There is an accident

(S)he has a black eye

(S)he cannot say how (S)he fell or who hit her




(S)he calls on your birthday and sings

Lullabies in your ear

(S)he forgets your birthday

(S)he does not recognize you anymore

(S)he asks you to wash off the tattoo on your back

You cannot erase memories

that collect, gather, and break up

the constant wheel momentum stops

(S)he hallucinates a dead son

Dreams a fallen daughter


(S)he leaves her body, whispers in daughters’ ears

Take care of your mother, your sisters

(S)he blesses us each time we walk out the door

In the name of the father, the sun…

(S)he speaks to you in Spanish, in dreams

And you understand

happy birthday to you

we surrounded the fallen


to warm the spring brisk chill

scattered ashes, pink, black

desert blues, transparent clouds

streak across clear sky

saw the body quake, trembling

at the sight of leaving

existence: nothing

spirit: sever the body

ghost covers to say good bye

after the heart stopped

machine brought the body

the muscle back to beating

spasms, suffering, we all suffered

five days until today

three years ago

we spoke in turn

told how to mourn

each time hand reached out as if to say:

it’s ok to go away

skin grew colder, faded

each heave sent shivers

slowing circulation, blood,

love pumping into heart into lungs,

the breath machine stopped

family of five became four cry in the wake

interlaced fingers catch gracefully snap to close the edge

Mad River Flashes

Underground headlights steel rotten wheel marrow

Ash in eye fire & smoke spoke to sky of darkness

Rain stiff stillness calm warm ocean

Moon waves crash sometimes

Bone dry flit of wing

Eye the giant


Underground moved from side to corner eye caught the giant

Buried sun halos of marrow

Bones hinge and creek soft as butterfly wing

Ash is what’s left in this grey darkness

Moonbeam rays gently attract sometimes

Rainfall on the sun quiets the ocean


Underground dreams sift the sand left by ocean

Waves rock the beached seal pup waits for giant

Mother, father, a singing light touch will sometimes

Infect and rot, we suck the poison marrow

Spit into the darkness

Float on new wings


Underground meadows bloom with spring faerie wings

Sparkle against the grey-blue-clouded ocean

Night falls into earth’s darkness

Sleeps the giant

A strong core, a kick start force of marrow

We wrestle with the thought sometimes


Underground hips a loop troop stilt walk above ground sometimes

Having found a fallen wing

A pinch of marrow

Hawks and ravens pay black feather homage & fly over ocean

Ancient trees reach up across the avenue of giants

Cast light shadows against the darkness


Underground sea tunnel connects the city to darkness

Rats roam the jungle until cats stalk the perimeter sometimes

The sound wakes the giant

Can barely see the hummingbird wing

Dart from rhododendron to the drift wood ocean

Carved a heart into the water log to extract the marrow


Reach the marrow of soft darkness

Rain-filled ocean of tears sometimes

Caught in sore throat of wing-ed giant