Erasure of Self
Like goosebumped skin
erasure sets in
Eyes closed to sun
Energy, none
The me people know,
the warm glow,
cedes to the smear
of what is now here
Go, thou dread curse
Take with you your hearse
Better days will come
If I ( )
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. Artistic Expressions’ Margaret asked us to write to a sketch. This one I completed at the onset of my last depression. As always, I crawled out, just in time for Riley’s triumphant graduation! Peace, Amy
As I’ve been absent once again, I did want to mention a wonderful honor: I have been published! Barking Sycamores (a journal dedicated to autism in its many forms), published my poem in the very first edition. Link to my poem HERE. Thanks to Nicole Nicholson for her outreach and sensitivity.
Now, on to poetry: This Memorial Day, I have chosen a different group of veterans, ignored and consigned to ultimate death when the illness became the subject of gossip and hateful condemnation.
Other Veterans (GMHC, 1983)
Gay community’s response to the crisis
They didn’t know what to do with
the first straight girl who strode into
the waiting room, awaiting instructions
Witnessing wills, filing, odd jobs
Then a delivery, with deliberate orders:
“To Paul Popham. Into his hands only.
Upstairs office at NYC Central PO.”
Paul Popham,* one of six founders of
Gay Men’s Health Crisis, prominent attorney
At the PO, the BS began ASAP
Never forgot their condescension
“His office,” sneered receptionist,
“round back, by the bulk mail”
This prominent attorney with
inconvenient, indelible winestains,**
consigned to makeshift quarters
Breathing delivery trucks’ diesel
contributing to possible PCP***
Far from the “healthy” ones
Greeted me, standing tall
His small frame with grey suit
and suspenders to hold up his
shrinking self, like Daddy’s clothes
Such dignity, as though still possessing
the upper office he once commanded
Our eyes met, our hands grasped
the confidential package together
He shook my hand; he opened his arms
“No shame in crying,” as I bled tears
Total resolve in facing death
even as Reagan ignored the epidemic****
I hope the president’s inaction?
haunted him the rest of his days
and beyond. In the meantime,
Paul Popham carried on his work…
And we still pray
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
*Paul Popham (1947-1985), whose Wikipedia bio can be found HERE, was one of the first AIDS activists in 1981, when the disease was known as GRID: Gay-Related Immunodeficiency Disease. Paul is portrayed as “Bruce Niles” in Larry Kramer’s Pulitzer-Prizewinning play, “The Normal Heart.” The long-awaited film version will air soon on HBO. SEE IT.
** Winestainss, dark purple lesions, were visible signs of Karposi’s Sarcoma, one of the many autoimmune diseases brought on by HIV/AIDS. If you’ve seen Tom Hanks and Denzel Washington in the groundbreaking film, “Philadelphia,” you will see how Hanks’ character disguised his winestains with makeup for as long as possible.
*** PCP, or pneumocystis pneumonia, was a lung-wrenching, usually quickly fatal infection of the lungs in those days. A depiction of testing for PCP can be seen in the William Hurt film, “The Doctor.”
****President Ronald Reagan was in a position to order funds for research; instead, he did nothing. He would not even utter the word “AIDS.” I am not ashamed to say that I hope this decision haunted his until his death.
Guttural (Meditation on the Heart)
When Bible speaks of the heart
it really means the gut
Feel your heartbeat there
in the center square
Worries tether the gut
crowd the diaphragm
Anxiety’s program
from the great I am
We “feel in in our gut”
A gut feeling to avoid
that thug, that drug,
that way of lesser angels
The gut guides and
cautions us when we
need unspoken advice
God guides our gut
BUT…
“The Gut Is a Lonely Hunter”
would not have sold many copies
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Virginia Deep
Bittersweet days and
sleepless nights
Days spent on park benches
regarding passersby
as butterflies
tethered to their lives
Wings pinned down by convention
Nights in her convent
the room of her own:
Smoke, coffee, tension
The quill stung with her blood
No control and again
voices voices voices
No rest, no cure
No choice, save the obvious
Stop the voices
Drown them
Condemn them to
watery oblivion
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads’ Mama Zen gave us a challenge: Write about Virginia Woolf. I have not been posting much lately, but this was inspiring to the nth degree. Thanks, Mama, I knew you could raise me from my slumber! Peace, Amy
Isn’t this prehistorically fantastic? A sci-fi movie buff’s dream!
Westward into the Sun
Chuggin our old used one
cross country, west of west
Buffalo to LA; I know
how these solo road trips
settle my nettled head
Riley-bound; she needs
the wheels but so chill
she was willin to wait
for a not-so-late model
sun-bleached redmobile
Utah. At first, a burst
of tumbled weeds and
You can have this, Brigham
Gradually it blooms with
looming, wise granite cliffs
as if the earth began here
I see the turtle’s back, legend
of indigenous peoples and
remember we are but riders
on this weathered, whirling rock
In my sights, a magic range
Undeniably and completely pink
I think, where is passage?
Answer: Men blew a hole
straight through, a stark arch
How rude, I say aloud
Typical of humans to blast
a magnificent thing of beauty
in order to accommodate
RVs, SUVs, and I, who
would have driven many miles
to go around this mound
of natural wonder. Now I
understand why the Mormons
saw this as paradise on earth
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
dverse Poets wanted poems about the road. This was one of the best trips in my life; on my Bucket List, actually, to make a cross-country trip. Stayed with friends, saw my girl. Happy time. Image courtesy of WikiMedia Commons. Peace, Amy
Keepin It Real
You’re keepin it real
ly? You sure a
bout this? A sin
gle night of his
tory and a life
time of raisin
g it
© Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Recently, Imaginary Garden With Real Toads had us looking at the work of e.e. cummings, asking us to play with poetic form in whimsical ways, unusual forms. Although I did not get the inspiration in time for the prompt, thank my lucky stars Real Toads has a Open Link Monday! It’s like winning… Amy
Whoops! forgot to credit image from Wikimedia Commons, and isn’t it a great portrait? Gyula Basch [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
TO ALL MY FRIENDS: This is the reason I’ve been absent the past couple of days. Thanks for your patience. Amy
Candles For Nina
Nina, who is far away
I know you hear my prayer
My heart and soul (my daughter)
is right there, been there
since it happened,
the Horrible Thing
Wrong place, wrong time
The pavement, no springing
up from this blow, it seems
As your friends stared
the ambulance came
Carried you with care
Now Nina, you’re in limbo
Twixt here and no one knows
Through my girl, in spirit,
I’m there, I feel so close
Your friends, angry, crying
and Nina, that’s for you
Sad, praying, lighting candles
And God is right there, too
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Image courtesy of WikiMedia Commons
Nina Fitzpatrick is a student at Laguna Beach Institute of Arts and Design. One moment Nina is a vibrant, artistic, cool woman…the next, it’s moment to moment. It happened in a crosswalk at the school – a crosswalk students have complained about repeatedly,
WHAT FOLLOWED WAS WRONG INFO AND I HAVE APOLOGIZED TO SCHOOL AND TRIED TO EMAIL. WRITER WAS ANONYMOUS BY EMAIL AS WELL:
…but about which the school did nothing, citing budget concerns. Seriously? (END OF MISTAKE, what follows is redaction)
Real story: LCAD (Laguna College of Arts and Design – I wrote wrong name) was indeed the recipient of numerous complaints, including near misses – BUT the road is apparently privately owned, and the OWNERS would not do anything, even when the SCHOOL offered to help pay. The only good news is that LCAD went public and it looks like their demand for stop lights at the crosswalk is being heard; it made the paper, etc. I logged into my edits to write the person who said I was “kicking them while they were down” (see comments, lower portions) but they did not leave a valid email. This sort of sucked, but I get it.
So I am mailing a hard copy of the original plus the redaction to the school and hoping they distribute it widely. In the meantime, my complaint is valid; however, my blaming the school was TOTALLY based on numerous instances of hearsay. So much for that. Nothing can bring Nina back, and I am so sorry I hurt folks who may have read this comment. LCAD is a marvelous school and has done wonderful things for all its students. Amen.
How To “Recruit” Straight People
Pink is for girls
Blue is for boys
Girls should be passive
Boys make the noise
Girls given dolls
Boys given trucks
Girls are called “pretty”
Boys are young bucks
Betsy gets yelled at
if she steals Bill’s stuff
Billy, a whoopin’ if he
sneaks powder puff
If Billy weeps
while getting the switch
He’s told “boys don’t cry”
and there is the hitch
Billy’s a sweet soul
who dresses in pink
Betty plays hockey
at the local ice rink
Much to chagrin of their
parents who shudder
Their kids are not from
the right cookie cutter
Forward to adults
Billy married, by force
Goes ‘out’ at night
His wife ponders divorce
Bett moved to SoCal
She broke her folks’ charge
On the beach playing volleyball
Smiles – livin’ large
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Illustration also by Amy; please feel free to use it for stereotyping examples.
I hear all about “homosexual recruiting” all the time from “Christians” and FOXophiles; nothing I say can convince them. Societal convention steers kids the “right way.” We are conditioned from birth, which is why so many LGBTQs suffer years of guilt and shame in silence. Some children of the “very Christian” commit suicide.
Support kids when they have the courage to come out of the closet – we did, and our reward is an incredible relationship with Riley. Peace, Amy
gremlindeep
grabs me by my big toe
pulls me down slowslowslow
slithers me off the easy chair
through rug’s woolen sheepish hair
cannot fight this downward pass
eyes are foggy ruby glass
cried so long they’re swollen large
gremlindeep is now in charge
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Depression does have a face, and not only the one you see in the mirror. It has claws and a gravity surpassing that of earth. Peace, Amy
Sharp Little Pencil 