Wish Upon A Star

I wished upon a falling star,
and it landed in my lap and when I tried to pick it up the edges cut me,
so I knew that what I wished for must have been you,
and the pain reminds me that I can feel,
and if you would have just wished me back maybe we could have bandaged each other,
and healed together…
But that never happened
and the stars grew sharper
and dropped more frequently.
I watched the sky, 
and counted the leaves on clover
all the while knowing the good luck couldn’t find me
not when I’m still hiding most of myself…
When I peer around corners I can sometimes see the light building in the distance and I think,
it may be warm,
it may be bright,
but can it shield me from the monsters?
The ones that count the missing stars and
pass sentence on anyone trying to cache them,
hoard them,
trying to cloak them,
trying to believe that their last chance is in those sharp edges,
and that their bloodied hands will heal,
and it all will have been worth the time spent stalking the sky.

I wished upon a falling,
fallen angel,
fallen woman,
it’s always the ones who fall that get the notice,
and the blame,
but picking myself up became harder and harder,
and my arms would shake just knowing they would have to try again…
And I am still hiding most of the time,
but once,
or twice,
I have dipped a toe into the light,
a small part of me expecting to burst into flame,
but it was swiftly done,
and left no welt,
and I may try again,
somewhere where the sky cannot spy,
where the stars only flicker and cannot harm,
and where my hands will be allowed to heal.


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Birthdays, Juggling & Acronyms



Well here I am. Another year older and another year….wiser? 

Maybe just leave it at another year older. 

It’s been a roller coaster year, the last few months especially. My gift or goal to myself, I have firmly & finally decided

(just now. Yes, procrastination is my super power)

is to try and be more ordered. Work on clarity and….and…. (omg, can you tell how hard I am trying to avoid the word “mindfulness” which has been used way past the beating a dead horse stage) and deliberateness.

Yes. Deliberation shall be my new mission statement. 

How so you ask? 

Have you ever seen the meme “My brain is like a computer with 84 tabs open….” or words to that affect? 


That’s me.

All day every day and most of the night.

Too many projects, too many ideas, too many words.


I am finally becoming (in my old-ish age) adultish and orderly.

I have a list of half assed half finished ideas. These need prioritizing and concrete-ness. This means…..*drum roll*  MAKING.A. LIST.

(please – do NOT start singing “making a list and checking it twice”….or I won’t be able to get it out of my head for days….)

My new book is done – quite a departure for me (watch this space!) I am just waiting for the artwork to be sorted and the godawful task of editing done. And instead of moving on to the next item in an orderly (there’s that word again) fashion I am just floundering because I have too many ideas and too many other things started. NO COMPLETIONS. Just balls in the air ready to come down and knock me senseless. 


And, if that wasn’t enough, I have other New! Exciting! Revolutionary! ideas trying to cut in line…..

Time to take control. Fifty some odd (cough splutter) years…yeah…its definitely time.

The New Jaye. Pretty much the same as the Olde Jaye….but just better record keeping maybe? More productive? More businesslike? But still me, the short, bookish woman with the box free, technicolor imagination?

Order and Method in a Whimsical Way.  OMWW.    

(Man, I can’t even get a cool acronym….)

Wish me luck. I’m so glad you are with me.

Here goes…



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I smiled with a breezy what can you do faultline to my mouth,

and laughed and walked away,

as if I had a purpose and those words weren’t important,

mere droplets of water sliding off a ducks back,

so no one would notice

that I was skewered to my soul,


Why did I allow it?

So easy to ask.

So easy to condemn.

But impossible to explain.

I went shopping,

 looking for something warm and bright and comfortable, 

and instead wound up imprisoned,

a dummy in a window display,

frozen in a pose and outfitted in a style

I never wanted.

Yet I invested so much in time and energy

and dreams

pulling back from the chasm became so complex it was easier to stand still,

even as it was cracking wide open,

even as the tremors made me stumble 

back and forth blindly,


Too much gets buried when the landslide takes you,

so you hang on to what you can,

and you promise yourself that it will all be worth it when the earth finally settles.

And hope that the scars will fade,

before you have to explain them,

before you have to explain

what you

don’t understand.

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I Am the Sun

I lie back to watch the clouds,

and listen to the grass sigh under me as it slumps,

forming to my languor,

 and I pretend I am a chalk outline ready to be filled with colors and shapes

from a poets last dreaming.

The sun glows hot orange and red behind my eyelids and I let the coolness below 

and the heat above meet in the middle.  

Am I rooting deeper into the earth?

Or am I flying into the sun

my arms spread to catch the wind?

I am the sky.

I am the earth.  

I am the sun.

The tree hangs over me and the leaves wait in line to share their


The wind picks them and they float with the telling,

and the spinning seeds thank them as they pass.

I am learning the speech of leaf and seed,

and I too,

want to plummet into the recitation and tell the roots my story,

and feel it settle into them and 


I am the sky.

I am the earth.

I am the sun.

My skin tingles as the light pours and I tilt my head

to absorb it all,

 and I imagine myself a glass

glowing with the heat,

and the tendrils sink into my veins

streaming gold and 

I shine with my own reflection... 

A mirror for the clouds, 

silver white and stormsmoke gray,

and breathlessly balance myself along the azure

 rim of the world.

I am the sky.

I am the earth.

I am the sun...

I am the sun.
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Happy 4th of July



Let’s all come together to work for a truly Great (and Cheeto-free) America. Where ever and whoever you are, however you celebrate – or don’t – I wish you Peace.



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Chameleon Madness

I change the pain to fit the face 
of the one fielding the telling to,
shifting the colors to their mouth tightenings,
a raised eyebrow deepens the green and mutes the red,
any sardonic tskings make the pattern sink shamefaced into drab.
I shape the outrage to the panel of judges,
surely not look trims the wick of my rage and waxcoats it with self deprecation,
settling for an uneasily fit one of the group mask until a
 piece of patronizing hits me, 
hurts me,
 “not friendly”
     “not grown up enough”
         “can’t take a joke”
and there my colors go again…
This poor mad chameleon
recreating itself
in a strangers image.
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Obstacle Course

I am just so accustomed to thinking no one is going to approach my body with kindness.                                                                                                                                           ~ Roxane Gay


I push the air in front of me as I walk and hope it cushions,
so that I pass unnoticed through the crowd,
and the scraping feeling across my neck lifts
away leaving only the tingle,
like the shudder from a lemon slice,
still tacked lightly to my nape,
ready to burst out in full force if attention heats it back to clutching point.
I move with dull and dogged steps 
feeling like a volcano,
towered violence waiting to break free,
but it’s not lava that I spill, 
silent and dumb tears.
 Words can’t hurt you
should be rephrased as 
words can’t hurt you where it shows…
In a world that bows to the uniform,
those wounds cannot be allowed to surface,
to throw the pattern off,
to jangle the color scheme,
to skew the line.
A closed door and a slumping shoulder
are the only signals that I,
the reluctant and battered contender, 
can allow. 
Letting the air move freely,
to surround me,
in such gratitude for a crumb of respite.
As the obstacle course resets itself
for the walk tomorrow.
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