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stability in this motel room i feel urgent- my daughter’s asleep
in the middle of the bed- i slip out quietly to not wake her- my eyes are tired already but i have three pages written in my head so i sit on the one red chair- in the circle of light under the lamp- scoot the Holy Bible into the dark, appaled and offended by the Gideons & their little blue book and the way people, at my age, claim stability in an unstable place where nothing’s been answered and nothing’s been solved- that’s what they think we all want, stability- where the seasons are blanked out by white walls and held back behind floodgates and we all wear blue sweatshirts and freeze our hair in the morning---wake up stable every day and never cry- it’s odd to say such things- i don’t know how i could believe in it- i find that i can only love unanswered people- with their hearts on their sleeves- who will, even timidly, let me look them in the eye and love them- i want the hands and heartbeats of those, like me, who are falling from the stars spinning on our odd little planet- with the seasons and the changes and the pain they bring- who feel the impact- whose hearts can break- and who yearn and daydream- i don’t want them to give me salvation, neat flawless & perfectly bound, in someone else’s name- i just want their unique, sweet, odd, individual hands to hold mine & i want them to remember me… -jennifer jo dooley 10/15/99 |
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my brilliant and flawless "bastards" poem Bastards I have known I'll name but just a few Some subtle and some brash Some looney and coo-coo One found him a gee-tar And learned to play it well But he couldn't stay in tune And sounded like a rat in hell Bastards I have known I'll name but just a few Some subtle and some brash Some looney and coo-coo One he was a cockroach With a cross around his neck He wanted to ruin and rule his world But wasn't playing with a full deck Fake fucks I have known I'll name but only two And one would hate the other If the other only knew I knew that one was painful But I couldn't help but care He had a princess with a coat And hung it on her chair Fake fucks I have known I'll name but only two One would hate the other If the other only knew The first he praised the second As his only saving grace They both struck down the real ones But never to their face Fake fucks I have known I'll name but only two One would hate the other If the other only knew Dumb shits I have known And I've known quite a few And I would surely list them If homework hadn't I to do. -jennifer |
my poem for josh You gently remind her of what she deserves
And it’s true that she does She deserves to be loved and cared for And you’ve tried With more than a year of waiting Of needing to say what you can’t quite say Of encounters with her always meaning more to you And plotting the course of your days Based on her chances. Loving her is something you can’t help It hurts to watch her life become more painful You want to give her something to make it o.k. And you continue to feel While someone watches wondering What to do to make you stop hurting. Have you thought about what you deserve? You deserve someone who cares for you As you would for them Someone to respond and listen And give you little things to keep you warmer You deserve to be loved, treasured But in the absence of that Even alone, or seeming alone (you’re not you know, but you have to want it) Even when you feel alone Don’t tear holes in yourself over someone who can’t love you Cause you’re way too much worth loving And you’ll realize that someday. -jennifer jo dooley late sept. 1999 |
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my poem for matt Sometimes radio sound is enough
Mixed with the engine of my car, My missing muffler, The little glitter stars my wipers wipe away Like tears from my windshield In the reflection of some other cars light; To dream up the day that I just had To quietly relive its moments Not to love them, just to figure them out And to dream up the world as I’ll have it be As I try day to day to create it more creative And more as it should be, less bastardized and stolen A silent revolution All this looks good in headlights And radio sounds are enough to keep it going. Sometimes I don’t want to hear your accounts Of trivia and lives and computer games And so I don’t listen, I shrug you off, I steer the car with the curves in the road And watch it light up signs and trees I don’t hear what you’re saying as you’re Talking- excitedly, constantly Because I’m living my own poetry Not because I don’t love you. -jennifer jo dooley late sept.1999 |
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a TALE no ONE can Beat (the Getty's Radio Show version of Dr. Seuss' Mulberry Street) a TALE no ONE can BEAT…
(the Getty’s Radio Show version of “Mulberry Street”) Every weekend i drive home from school- just me in my Jeep on Mulberry Street- i sing a tune about my feet- just me, with Dar Williams in the passenger seat But oh no, not just Dar- that’s fun, but there’s more- why have just one great singer- when i can have four- Courtney Love and Patti Smith- i’ll add my angel Stevie Nicks- their voices rise in laughter sweet- as we ride in my Jeep down Mulberry Street Sarah McLauchlin what’s blind cannot see- i also must add wild Melissa E.- Natalie Merchant oh isn’t life sweet- as we ride in my hippie van down Mulberry Street A van’s much too small, it’s too small it seems- to accommodate miles of laughter and dreams- and the October air it was meant to breathe- as Mulberry Street just like a small stream runs into a street that is harder by far- to travel along in a big hippie car- we’ll need a horse and wagon- with big wagon wheels- but horses, you know- are apt to get ills- so we’ll get a tractor- to pull us through fields- and as tractors don’t go- by themselves and be merry- we must have a driver- so we’ll get Bill Berry- and that is a sight that is just way too neat- turning into the hayfields from Mulberry Street The sun it will set, the sky fade from blue- And we will include the Indigo two- the moon it will rise and Bette Midler’s to blame- but we’ll go “moonlight dancing” all just the same Shirley Manson can’t be far- but that’s only when traveling by car- the tractor we’ll have to abandon with ease- if we hope to go traveling past all these trees- we can’t ride a glump-kunk, we can’t harness bees- we’ll have to employ old Glumgumk McGees- and he is his Womdunk Mobile with it’s sprat- we’ll be able to avoid ever getting a flat- we’ll climb up the mountain and close to the moon- i’m afraid we won’t be home for lunch the next noon- But along come evening k.d. will sing- with Tracy Chapman and she will bring- Mary Chapin-Carpenter to dance her country dance- with a Chat in a Chapeau from Southern France- and life is not bitter and there is no end- and so Janis Joplin’s a welcomed friend BUT WAIT, with all the sounds and the songs there must be someone to listen- so we’ll gather all the boys around and dance and the moon will glisten- with a big upright bass and a fiddler too, guitars and tamborines for me and for you- i’ll be the first to hold Michael’s hand and spin him around and won’t it be grand- with Mike Mills a’groovin and Peter a’jumpin and all of our footsteps a clippity clumpin- Thom Yorke the young lad who just turned 31- will peak our high levels of wonder and fun- and life is so grand we’re not apt to get hurt- so we’ll all welcome back our sweet darlin Kurt- Anthony Chad Dave AND John and Flea- oh lord if they’re here, mercy mercy me- Chris Cornell and Live and it’s better and better but it isn’t best without Eddie Vedder- John Denver, Bob Dylan now we’re all chillin and groovin along with Louis Armstrong- and Josh would want Frank there so there’s Frank Sinatra- my silly ol Josh, did you think i’d forgot ya? We’re beyond heaven and nothing can save us- from the unholy wit of godblessed John Davis- with all these folks here i’d be abso-mutha-fuckin hurtin if i didn’t get to see abso-lutely Cliff Burton- Jason, Kirk, Lars, James- believe me if it’s all the same- we’re on some back porch with the blues- Eric Clapton we love you- Stevie Ray Vaughan, Ozzy, Fishbone too- and with the Eagles “One of these Nights” they’ll be acrobats, clowns and jugglers in tights- “tamborines and elephants” “lookin out my back door”- it’s as grand and as glorious as ever before- it’s laughter and wonder and i ought to know it- i’m the one went and picked up our dear poet- it’s sunflower Allen from 55 and he’s still so golden, bright & alive Glenn Danzig, Dwight Yoakam, what an odd pair- but it wouldn’t be fabulous if they weren’t there- and just as we welcomed “teenagers from Mars” and Bono arrived “in the strangest of cars” --- My drive was most over, i looked at my house- and my cat Mills was there with a half-way dead mouse- and my mother she asked me “oh what did you see” and i answered “oh, nothing and no one but me”- on this long stretch of road with the radio- there’s never much telling “the places (i’ll) go”- it was only me, but really still sweet- even without a Jeep, and no Mulberry Street. -jennifer jo dooley 10/13/99 |
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