Invisible Sun

December 19, 2008

Steven Gelberg


My humanity’s skin

Fits me.

I am its strengths

Its weaknesses.

From a childhood

Of secrets,

Being good,

Invisible, the good girl-

Comes this ability-

To see and hear,

To not be seen,

To be the observer.

Yet, in the hidden

Corners lies danger.

The soul risks slow submersion

When hidden in the dark.

When the good girl

Becomes the grounding,

The listener, the receiver,

Obscured from the light,

Death begins its

Slow creep.

Innocuously, like

Mitosis, splitting

The self from

Self, light, and air.

It is insidious and

It is death.

She becomes a secret.

She becomes the lie.

She becomes others lies.

She becomes invisible.

Turning towards the

Dungeon’s door,

The tearing of tectonic

Magnitude, she walks away,

Into the light.



Dancing in the Sunshine

Manolis Tsantakis



April 21, 2008

Gold Nude

S. Rungis

I am fire

in the water

falling over

the air

that breathes me,

annihilates me.

Dividing me,

divining me

from the

fog that

held me


Now I

swim in

flames screaming


I cannot hear

the sound inside me;

its silence

overwhelms me.


Flaming Love

Doris B. Lambling

I Knew I Hurt

April 21, 2008

Gidrius Varnas

I ate the food;

Drank the drink,

I knew I hurt.

Took the pill,

Kept the job,

I knew I hurt

Did the therapy

Talked words~

I knew I hurt

Stinging words

Did not know.

I knew I hurt

I made friends

Who held me close

I knew I hurt

I loved him

The present absence

I knew I hurt

Sumptuously I cooked

Fed with love

I knew I hurt

I heard their music

I played in looks

I knew I hurt

Not me,

I whispered

I knew I hurt

I worked hard~

I said healing!

I knew I hurt

I loved the one,

Dancing in time.

I knew I hurt

Struggling in the fray,

Fucking in the moments~

I knew I hurt

But, I did not know


One night

Someone came.

Seeing me,

Speaking my


Ripped through

My Soul

Curled up fetal

On the bed

I knew I hurt

Through the opening

Wind howls

Abrading the hurt

With caresses

That ached

And stung

And bristled

And rebelled~

Till silence

Held me close.


Street Abandon

Elly Simmons

John Running

Then I Met You

Thought that I’d be happy
Going to be so happy
Living life alone and never sharing anything

Thought that I was finished
Thought that I was complete
Thought that I was whole instead of being half of something

Thought that I was growing
Growing older, wiser
Understanding why this world held nothing for my spirit

Thought that I was destined
Destined to be nothing
Destined to be nothing in this world and then I met you.

I met you

Thought that God had failed me
Thought my prayers were useless
Thought that he would never give the chance for me to praise him

Thought the book was written
Thought the game had ended
Thought the song was sung and I could never sing another

Thought my faith was misplaced
Thought my back was broken
Broken by a weight that I was never fit to carry

Thought I knew this city
Thought I knew all about it
And then one night I went to Morningside and you were waiting

I met you


The Proclaimers

Bruce My Last Sigh Flickr


No Words

March 29, 2008

Steven Gelberg





i have no words for this pain

that takes me from life

the living

the agony



has no outlet

no comforter

no listener

no compassion



this wordless soundless

wailing pain

that was so held

before this night



gone is the holding

gone is the loving

gone is what i

thought i had



i thought i knew



yesterday i knew

i could trust

i said allow yourself

to be loved




i am left


i do not


understand anything




the news

the world

the leaver



my friends

yes, my friends

i have no friends for this moment

unless you count the dead


i am a shitty friend

reaping what is

scattered and returns

as my due


i trust that he had to go

i trust that he loved me

i trust that i drove him mad

i trust that he too is just as scared as i am……..


or at least i dream this


i cannot speak for someone else


though i try

though i wish


to box it all up

to make sense of the senseless


this mind that cannot grasp

being told


i never wanted this love you give

i feel self hatred


i do not know why

i do not know the source


i sit here in nothing drowning



what is this place?


i do not know it


road map please


or just take me away








march 2008


Sammi the Wonder Dog

November 17, 2007

Is still with us……..

She came out of something and I am working on her engagement level. She sleeps a lot and will start a supposed wonder vitaimin next month.

We are still running a special home for 23 year old so ugly I am beautiful dog but life is in the moment and we smile muchly.

For the moment, it is Sammi time.




John Running

The Rape

Elly Simmons



Search Engines Terms: How did you find me? What was your search?

I am fucking pissed.

If I see one more search phrase stating child erotica I am going to go hunting.

The photos I post of children are of how I see myself, of all children who deserve safety and wellness. They are my memories. They are why we need art, they show us ourselves. Artists are crucial for this. They tell our stories.

I am not here to tell any damn stories for injured relational sexuality.

I am here to say that I am not in control of the universe.

I was not in control of my friend Amanda’s bi-polar, existential, alcoholic, survivor pain or her death. I was not in control of my friend Leah’s childhood where her twin sister experienced her life as she did, a life ending with a swan dive. She took the bridge path. Yea, she is dead too.

So, this is all morbid or is it? Death is another stage. I am good with groovy godliness.

I post photos of children for the beauty of each and every one of our children, internally and externally.

My favorite is by Steven Gelberg. I see myself in her eyes and hiding behind that big leaf. I see my cave child self, now and then.

I do not want fucking trapped in the darkness of soul injured compulsion finding my blog by searching such words. Words that have never been posted here until now which means somewhere in the universe someone found Steven’s souful child photo and showed me that I am not in control of the freakin’ universe.

And, please, do not get me wrong. This is not hate, this is anger which is pain. Pain for those who are bound in some dark place where only such a search gives them what they seek. I am not hateful, I am pissed. And, sad. And, empowered. And hurt by the hurt. No one hurt me, no one did this to me, it just is.


John Running

Fairies Are Real

May 2, 2007



From Women in Landscape Series
Steven Gelberg



I have a fairy in my life.

Her name is Mary; she is 11, tall, thin, with a face like truth. We fell in love a year a go and over time our connection flowers. Any time her mother comes to the college she promptly tells her, “I am going to see Kim.”

She thinks like a soul of infinite years. She is direct, flighty, is not a morning person but once she awakens she never stops expressing. I have to tell her to stop talking when I know I am not listening or have to do something in that moment. She cooperates and smiles as she does it.

She is an imp. I took her home after she spent her first weekend with me and we took the grand tour of her neighborhood. In the middle of intersections she said, while pointing, “Turn here.” Looking at her, I said, “Is this the grand tour of your neighborhood?” “Yes’, she said.

I then said,” Mary, repeat after me: I promise I will never be a navigator.” “I promise I will never be a navigator Kim.”

When it was time for me to go home her mother said to me, “Now you know how to get our of here, right?” “Hardly”, I said looking at Mary laughing.

I have a habit of stating my age aloud, as I wonder about myself and how to coalesce time with thoughts, perceptions and actions. I often hear, “You are not that old!” While drinking our hot chocolate and espresso, walking to a performance, somehow it was logical to ask her how old she thought I was. “52”, she said. I said, “Excuse
me? No one has ever said I look older than I am!” She promptly said to me, “ That’s because you pressure them by asking!” She never hesitates. She is a miracle, human, fantastic, fallible, brilliant, exceptionally visually creative, and down right whimsical in a way that only speaks in love.

Today I was out in the courtyard taking a break. I looked left and there she was, running to me, her family behind her, and without hesitation she hugged me.

This is living.





Gracious Galileo Smith

Photographers: Her Parents

Blog Resting

April 25, 2007

QT Luong

Leone Bay~Tutuila~American Samoa


{Shh. I hear surf susurrus)

Recently, I chose to remind myself that I am responsible for my own happiness.

I put one foot in front of the other, looked up, and opened my arms.

And, a flood came.

I am having an amazing life these days. I am busy with work but I dine on school nights now with friends, their kids who I love, on weekends I have kids to my house for our “it takes a village” dance. I have never birthed a child. I spend one weekend a month with my “bionic boobhead” friend who finally realizes that she cannot do everything alone.

None of us can.

Maybe this is why:

To be there for those who need me.

To be there for my need of them.

All in love.

I actually allowed myself a little too much in person connectivity. My biology literally requires time alone or my immune system drops. So, garden weekend was “shit am I sick weekend and why can’t the dog make me chicken soup?”

I think, given that I have no bathtub, (which I consider a global crisis), acetaminophen is a fine thing for functionality. See, I had to make the chicken soup!

I am about to let go of teaching, live on even less money, and learn to exercise and be a graduate student. I am scared shitless.

I need to leave Nebraska. I cannot leave; money is not.

I found a program in Colorado with a summer sessions and online work. I have to take 6 credits a term so I can go in debt.

Did I say I am scared shitless?

I thought you would want to know that part.

Time to make curry shrimp and read my trashy fall asleep mystery.

Good resting……







Women in Landscape


Steven Gelberg

This Moment

March 13, 2007

Girl in the Cold River

Ric Savid




I am stymied by love, grief, joy, loss and gain.

I am going to work and working a lot. I have 8 pieces of writing hanging out in my computer. Yes, that is how I write. I am an evolutionary writer, so there.

Love is always the answer.

Action is not, though it can be the solution also. I have this personality that needs space and time, time and space, all the same meanings, for what I experience. Working requires, as I know how to cope, that these moments be set aside. If I did not set them aside, I would not function as an Academic Adviser. Eating is a good thing, yes?

How do we fit all of ourselves into our life? Or, how do we release all of ourselves?

I feel completely alone and completely embraced.

I am being in what is me and that feels demanding at times. Demanding because moments are not allowed freedom when one has to answer the phone, fill a class, academic advise, and do what is caring for that human being who is a student.

I sometimes wonder how I came to this place. Once, I was working with Karen, a therapist, and out of my mouth flew the words, “I am bigger than my life.”

She was a quiet woman and I paid attention when she spoke. She said, “Maybe your weight is related to this?” She had a point! At that time, my size sometimes felt like all I had. Today my size is just that, a size.

Maybe this is rambling that cannot become a poem in this moment. Maybe I have written the answer to life. Maybe both.

Good Night.






2004:Female Figure:2

David Kofton