For Blue Gal: Support From My Peers

I'm posting this because of my current work atmosphere and because of Blue Gal's post from yesterday.

Support From My Peers

"Now that we know
You're getting a divorce
We really want to show
Our support of course

Surprise surprise
We tell you today
Go back home
A week off with pay

And just because
You disturb our dreams
A psych evaluation
Doesn't seem extreme

We just want to be
Sure you're doing well."
"Guess what folks
Go to hell."

8/9/05

I was 3000 miles away when my "colleagues" went to the bosses and expressed concerns that they wouldn't put in writing. Interestingly the office staff let me know they had No Problem with me. I jumped through the posted hoops but held hands with my lawyer while I did it. It generated quite a few poems and this was the first. The "colleagues" have not seen it to date because they never wanted to discuss their concerns: instead they requested that we be polite in the halls. I try, honestly. I can't help it if flames dart out of my eyes.

Red Paw

Between Trapezes

Ok, bad work day yesterday. I need to remind myself to never ever think that things can't get worse because they always can. Also that even when they're getting worse, eventually something will get better.

Between Trapezes

Two and a half years
Between trapezes

Letting go is hard
Enough
But then to hang
Wait for the next
On faith
When you can't see your way
After a while you aren't
Flying through the air
But falling

Falling
And screaming inside
Free fall
For hours
Days weeks years

In the company of angels
Letting go
Calls the angels
I dreamt of angels
Falling in a black void

And after a while
You don't want to fall anymore
And you understand
Those who end it
It takes great strength
To hold on to the idea
That it will end.

Two and a half years
And suddenly my hands are solid
Not falling
Swinging

Joy wells up
My mind is freed
From the hard work
Of falling and screaming
And I am swinging in the air
Safe

Color is back
Sensation
Sound
Music
Taste
Food melts in my mouth

Who would not be manic?

Solstice, 2005

Dream of Fours

I dreamed that my sister was going to sing the lead in an opera that my father was directing. I was jealous. I knew the part but I hadn't tried out, so I couldn't complain, but I wanted to. I thought my range might be better for it. They were going to record the opera and my sister said she didn't want to be recorded. I offered to be the voice for the recording. They accepted. I was in a room with my sister and three other women. A trickster was there and had stolen four bells from the ocean. They were bells on long ropes that should be hanging down in the ocean but they were in the bathtub instead and were endangered. The trickster was in the tub. I went in the water and had to transform myself -- the trickster was a mat and I became a towel in the water lying over him. Instantly we were transported to the bottom of the ocean. The trickster and I were now one and the bells were safe and back where they belonged. We (the trickster and I) met a monk. He was like a cartoon drawing, a mad line drawing part monk and part rabbit. He started talking about everything and led us back to the temple. There were two fires in the front room: sanctity and purity, and two more in the back: cleaning up and cooking. There were three more monks in the back, line drawn with curly lines and round bellies, very buddha like and cheerful. One was a woman; the only way I could tell was that she had a bra made of tiny triangles that covered almost non-existent breasts. They welcomed me, were tremendously open and alert and joyful. One said that I had come at a wonderful time because they were just going to eat and they almost never ate.

incoherence and fours

Wow, so I've been traveling for three weeks and had my house broken into and all my earrings stolen. Now you think I'm a girl. Various friends kept saying "Don't you feel violated?" but I said, "Naw, I just went through airport security and that was worse." They are so good at fear mongering.
I realized after I'd left that my last post was incoherent. I talked about threes and fours and posted two poems. One had threes but the other had no fours. Ok, so since the 10,000 comments have rolled in, I feel I should provide some sort of explanation. The fours were in the dream but didn't make it into the poem. They may yet get into a poem because they keep cooking in my head, sort of a steamy swamp and mysterious ocean of intuition. Or a toaster, where I put stuff in and a poem eventually pops up like a pop tart.
The dream follows.
Hej, hej det var dejligt at se mit danske bror og hans familie.

Ro/d fod.