Friday, August 12, 2016

Tyler Glenn -- Shameless

I am sitting here SOBBING at the TRUTH of this young man - - a young man who could easily have been the son of one of my childhood friends and who I want to HUG because, dammit, ‪#‎Shameless‬

I have seen the broken souls of the Babyboom LBGTQ human beings 
in the Most Mormon Town North of the 49th. 
Yes, even then, I saw behind 
Your acts and the carefully crafted performances 
You would shoehorn your beautiful, amazing, kaleidoscope selves 
the button down white shirts and the knee length skirts of conformity. 

Diving deep into the scriptural stew to obliterate Your LIGHT and 
replace it with the sad glow of florescence. 
You have repeated the mantras and magic words learned in childhood, 
hoping the incantations will open the drawbridge 
to the elusive bright-white Celestial Perfection. 
Ask no questions. 
Tell no lies. 
You have stuffed the cognitive dissonance so far down 
buried it under new generations of Miracles. 
And You did not. 
Bowing out early, leaving Your families in shrouded silent secret 
buried under marble sheets. 
But to those of You who survived know this: 
what You did to live was okay. 
You can stay safe within your crafted pantomime. 
just KNOW:  
You were seen and loved. 
I saw You. 
MotherFatherUniverse saw You. 
That is the only Real Thing.

Monday, July 6, 2015

For my Sister . . .

You taught me the earliest lesson of Family
Distance means nothing between hearts
Two weeks of Magic can sustain 50 more.
equaled YOU
with towering hair and painted nails
and stories of fantasical places.
Eyes sparkling blue with 
mischief of Other
burrowing into the cocoon of my childhood.
Teaching me in so many ways
that LIFE existed beyond.
And, in absence, you sent  --
carried by dead presidents -- blue ink lines
on paper to fill
the 50 weeks of gone.
Punctuated by the sharp ring of
black, wall-tethered words over wires
to hold news too large to be carried in 
an envelope.

As I was perched on the edge of grown,
you signed me up for a
monthly magic show of
words and images.
The author even carried your name - - 
speaking about demanding change
and a Voice.
I clung to those pages,
a talisman against the sea of sameness
that swirled around, 
trying to swallow my Soul, 
giving me the courage to 
scream "NO" and became the
small-town epitome of DIFFERENT,
a fighter in a Revolution
lead by women named Gloria.

Years beyond I alone stand
a Bridge between generations
looking both back 
and beyond tomorrow.
The daemons that chased 
your Spirit wedged their way
through the cracks,
stealing you away into Darkness,
occasional streaks of light
both hotter and brighter than
the Sun until, at long last, 
the weight of the journey
brought you down.

Now I stand to say, THANK YOU -
for setting my course
and telling me I had a voice,
quietly demanding 
I use it
and not hide from
honeyed-words that,
in an instant, turn sharp
as a dagger
only defeated by speaking the

. . . . . 

Monday, October 12, 2009

Death and Rebirth

Just as I was ready to
down and die
the loss so great I could not
bear the weight
A miracle lifted me above
myself and I saw
the Road to Peace
and I chose
a different path.

Friday, July 10, 2009


The fear springs up
in a silent flash
even before I realize
I am enclosed
safe but


Funny the stuff that
camouflagued to blend into the fabric
is that the day to day
until a sudden glint of light reflects
what I had managed to forget. . .
my failed attempts to remove
the offending reminder are
revived and I try a new, better cleanser
that only mars the background and leaves
the stain vividly bright and raw once more. . .

Wednesday, July 8, 2009


The Who I am
stands in stark contrast to who I see
looking into my eyes
from under roots of silver and lines
traced by years I let slip through my fingers
like so much sand at the beach

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Mother Bear

You chose ME
because you knew
I would
protect HER. . .
you saw my role model
the Mother Bear
who put her cubs before
and you knew
you wouldn't be around
to keep her safe
you chose me and now
I am
the Mother Bear. . .