peregrine

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desert you look very pretty in your tender green veil

it’s been a while since i was here visiting you

inner struggle and rebirth brought me to your boulder bosom

i see my brothers the Joshua Trees have gotten taller

therefore waving more lost children toward your safety dear friend

oh and the hares and wood peckers they still look

me over with caution and pity they sense my spirit

is still shackled in some ways but they are right

i’m just a human mother Joshua but how are you

i’ve brought you great news there will be rain later

this evening that rock you say yes that will be

good shelter the tiny lizard queen is a great hostess

the breath of your slate tinged skies is beginning to

smell like wet earth just like my grandmother’s hair when

as a babe i’d grab fistfuls and put it in

my mouth yet i don’t know how i can remember

her we were both too young when she had to

go up to the silver stars above my head oh

mother Joshua did you tell Oma to come and visit

there you see she’s the one next to Venus smiling

at me hey little ants get off my cake here

i’ll place it by your hill take it to your

queen my regards to her and now my eyes focus

to see the splendor of the ocotillo fire red blossoms

held up to the peacock sky and i breathe deeply

dear Hester

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dear Hester i have to go keeping you has cost me a fortune worked my body down to bones selling my soul for you for one faint kiss and giving the devil iou’s was no good

i finally admit that your fingers and aura gently crept into my blood brook driving me to unfathomable pleasure only known by kings but when i couldn’t feed you more and more and more your anger at me was like a riptide

dear Hester you thrusted and thrashed my body against the anguish i caused others because i was a slave to you when you read this letter i will be rolling in it the unholy pain of heart break for having to let you go

fever itch spasm vomit crying out for air

as i sink into the black hole of my own doing because i thought you loved me

Hester i have to Hester don’t you understand don’t cry Hester you have offered me comfort and euphoric happiness when the world turned its back on me you never lied to me and you even let the nay sayers preach at me and how you were a no good harlot beast

but in exchange for your mirage like generosity i turned over my freedom to you i have a sickness Hester i have to keep running there’s a demon stronger than us Hester i have to leave

the time has come for emancipation from us three

my dear Hester

das lebewohl

strikethrough

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laced

sharp

clove smoke

in alley i

got what i came for

a ticket to peek inside God’s ear near

the heavens past the Milky Way from up there the world was beautiful

at the American Hotel full of sweaty nooks and crannies where the music was wild in its ferociousness and once infected

the brain floated amongst the red aura of the room while the riffs and the booms and the twangs and the truths were part of a generation dying to speak its aching lonely soul

from the cave with symbols and art from masters of no particular renown prophesies of the pioneers of future trillion sized debts and whose progeny would be prisoners within bars made of algorithms instead i was a rule breaker kid channeling Cassady before she knew how to write trickster of the night wild child who’d

never had to fight with an authoritative parent on account they were already at some of their own soirees as a little tax deduction i quickly learned that a woman’s place was not really where she had to stay and i followed suit because it was the only way my rebellious nature would be soothed and that’s how the old vagabonds took me to see the Clash when i was ten the coolest 6th grader ever summers in Bakersfield sandy hair wild like baby snakes shielded by the big

bad momma cobras picking grapes hearing the night thunder of God and machine never wondering what would happen to me at least not in the day time Al’s bar i miss your soul so many times i bled polka dotting your floors lost my mind but the angels of the green couches were there to call the taxi but no one knew the address rock and roll deep in thought colors floated steadily for me forming live connections to the guys that God called Us do pigeons count as doves i loved the one with stripped wings white neck and red beak hind and fore sight blended in my head pounding breaths waking up in the middle of the deck only to see the headlines im still here Hillel wild crazy as fuck child incomprehensible girl took the diagnostical sentence because you didn’t understand

Valentina

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little Valentina jumped up and down by the crosswalk waiting for the light to turn lime jello green her little black patent leather shoes tip tapped on the dirty dusty sidewalk she let go of her mom’s hand to clean the dust off open little palms were no match for the dirt those were her prized church doctor and special school event shoes they couldn’t get dirty Valentina had an excellent day at the dentist and her mom and dad promised her she could go to Olvera Street and get her treat as the family made their way to the Plaza Valentina’s eyes search like a hawk she didn’t see Don Chema the paleta man with his cart filled with frozen delights it was a humble little ice box covered with ice pop stickers shaped like action heroes Sponge Bob and even the Disney Princesses once they got to the kiosk and the giant tree Valentina’s hopes dimmed she looked up at her dad with the biggest brownest sullen eyes and he offered a dreadful solution would you like a churro instead Valentina searched once more and as a small crowd of Japanese tourists dispersed she saw Don Chema she hopped and squealed with delight Valentina pulled on her parents to walk her to the paletero Don Chema in a nasally raspy voice asked her que le gustaria mi reina Valentina whispered up to her dad and she asked for the prized watermelon paleta juicy red with the little black seeds frozen inside

Doña Margarita

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now as i look in the mirror i see the scar on my neck where his ring ripped my skin off and wrinkles from all of the times i smiled before and after the event during that moment i fought back with everything i had i too was Jacob Israel in my bathroom looking down as my fingers blindly feel for eyeliner i think of Doña Margarita standing four feet tall outside of Our Lady Queen of Angels Church where i had gone that night looking for watermelon agua fresca i was thirsty for normal human contact she cajoled me about buying one of her amulets a little brown felt square with a saint on it or was it Michael i don’t recall anymore i smiled and shook my head no and as i walked away my mind was already boarding cloud nine but she followed me and said llevatelo es gratis i took her offering as her eyes turned stony with warning a few blocks away deranged in the annals of fifth street i lost it somewhere so into the bar i stepped had a few laughs saw a few flies guzzled a few vodkas and prepared to go up to the third floor to visit Taino another LA merchant turning the corner to go into the morgue like hotel lobby two arms wrapped around my 80 pound frame and into Werdin Alley we rolled but i swung with weak little arms i reached and i scraped faces arms noses tracers in denial that this was reality i focused on our collective flailing tattoos then ink covered my mind i woke up in County over hearing LAFD say she’s been a victim of a violent crime yet i could still feel the brown felt of Doña Margarita’s amulet in my hand it was anchoring

LAST DAY FOR BOOK PROMO!!

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Susi Bocks's avatarI Write Her

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I’m giving away one signed copy of Feeling Human and Every Day I Pause! To qualify in this giveaway, you need to go to both my Facebook page AND Twitter account. You’ll need to Follow and Like to get notifications from I Write Her. Everyone who takes these steps AND either shares or tweets this post is entered for a chance to receive a copy of each book!

Here, I’ll make it easy for you…

  1. Go to I Write Her FACEBOOK Page – LIKE THE PAGE!
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  3. Share this announcement and encourage your friends, family or readers to enter too! You can do this by reblogging this announcement on your blog so it pings back, post on your Facebook page or Tweet it out with this hashtag – #IWHBOOKS.

And it starts NOW! Giveaway chance ends TODAY!!

Remember, you have to…

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Eunice

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Eunice

sits

by the

twin doors on

her porch waiting for the

mail to arrive and have a conversation with

Yan the carrier who always asks about her past and what she’s doing

it’s time for the Moon Festival and Eunice enjoys hearing Yan’s stories too and when his wife sends her Moon Cakes

her heart skips a beat with joy today she wore a peach silken robe her hair is wild and white legs tucked neatly under thighs and her lap nestles two brown gray Siamese kittens

eyes deep black filled with wisdom earned through pain war and humiliation but if you look closer her irises are flecked with bits of gold these are the triumphs of her life i want to be like Eunice graceful with the power of her forgiveness she is eternally untethered from the mortal coil of man

strong in her conviction to love without having to be loved free to walk through the doors of challenge steadfast in her beauty shining from within soul armor for the soldier Queen her lips sea shell pink have spoken with the angels her thin vein covered hands have opened promise closed opportunities for mass destruction Eunice swift of foot feeds the weeds and prized flower bushes the same life is life she says and through this ancient simple third eye view the weeds have nourished the orchards of love

Eunice with her basket feeds the multitudes with far less fish than Jesus can provide today but in her patience and plentitude of faith the cup of satiety somehow runs over in the inky crescendo of the twilight Eunice sits in her back porch by the door where she cried hiding sorrow when the universe collapsed as seen on the 11 o’clock news many Aprils ago clutching a holy book to ensure it’s protection in case that night’s devil came to her own door i know i’ll never be like Eunice with spirituals circulating in her veins while her licorice skin warms the spirits of the children next door who dress like ninjas for the Fall and every year as she pretends to be the frail victim for them to save her reward is the blooming of a brighter future in their innocent laughter