The Window

The second book, the 1994-1995 book release by Janet Kuypers

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a child in the park 

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this was no ordinary park, mind you: there 
were no swings or children laughing; there were 
different children there. There was recreation: 

tennis, the pool, and a maze of streets for bicycles 
and long walks; surrounded by rows of prefabricated 
homes each with one little palm tree by the driveway.

People drove golf carts around in the park, or large 
tricycles, or older couples would walk together just as 
it was beginning to turn to dusk and long shadows from 

tree-tops cris-crossed over the streets. In the afternoons, 
the women in the pool would wear hats and sunglasses, 
lean against the sides, swing legs in the warm water.

I remember the summer afternoons when it rained in 
Florida, and after the rain I would go out in the puddles 
in my roller skates, skate through them, feet soaking wet.

There was even a street named after me in the park, 
and at the end of Jan Drive there was a pond.
I spent hours there, playing imaginary games,

pretending I was grown-up, feeding the ducks,
watching the fish swim around the rocks at my
feet, looking for the turtles, listening to the wind.

Oh, I remember Mr. Whorall, how he would walk 
onto his driveway every time I was playing tennis 
across the street. He would watch me, tell me how 

I was getting better at the game every time he saw me. 
And there was also Mrs. Rogers, who lived up the 
street from me. She saw me riding my bicycle by one day 

just before Halloween. She invited me in to help
carve a pumpkin. Every year she bought me a Christmas 
present. The sweetest woman. The most beautiful woman.

And there was Ira and Betty Wiggins, who lived on
the next street, Sand Drive, with a sign in front of
their house that said, "The Wiggins' Wigwam."

They had a hammock on their porch, and art so
beautiful, so colorful on their walls. They lived in 
Panama for years, he used to be a doctor. So

many things collected from all their travel. They both 
knew so much, they both loved life. Once they saw 
me and asked if I wanted to catch a lion. They then 

went to the side of the road, and with a spoon pulled 
an ant lion from the top of a sand hill. So many secrets.
Every night Ira could be found with cue holder, 

decorated with Panamanian art, at the pool table, playing 
my father, or another man who died years ago. I remember 
that man telling me that when I was younger he would 

watch me on Easter Sunday, me in my pastel dress, by 
myself, spinning, dancing in the streets. He remembered 
me dancing. This is his memory, how he thought of me.

And I remember the McKinleys, Pete and Lindy, another 
beautiful pair who talked of Mexico, of all the places 
they'd gone, all the things they had seen. So many times I 

would visit them just to hear them talk. And Pete would try 
to stump me with an intellectual riddle every time I sat with 
him; he would ask me about astronomy, what I had learned in my

classes since the last time I visited the park. Sometimes they 
would take me to their country club, play on tennis courts made 
of clay, how strange it felt on my feet through my tennis shoes.

It was like another world there. The park was 
where I spent my Christmases, my Easters. I 
remember swimming in the pool, a week shy of

thirteen, when my parents told me I was an aunt. 
Now I talk to my sister on the phone, she asks me
if I remember so-and-so from Palos Avenue,

from Blue Skys Drive. The couple that had the ornate
rock garden in their front yard, or the snow shovel 
against their light post with the words "rust in 

peace" painted in white on the metal. Yes, I say, I
remember them. Well, so-and-so passed away last week,
she says. Heart attack. This is what it comes down

to, I think, all these memories are slowly disappearing.
So many memories. Where there are palm trees everywhere.
It was my other world, my other life, another

lifestyle, another everything. This was not an ordinary 
park, but the children were so much smarter, and 
still so full of life. So much to teach. So little time. 

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a stand-off 

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Too many things bombard us
we scan from channel to channel
eyes darting, first war, destruction,
then a weight loss commercial.
I know you're thinking society is
ludicrous - and it is - but don't you see
that when I watch that t.v. screen
all I see is that I'm not thin enough?
I've tried to make things right with
us. I've tried to bring us one glimmer
of happiness, I've tried to turn off
that media mudslinging
tried to make things a little better
even if it is only in our bedroom
and even if it is only for one night.
And you, you look away
and think I'm hopeless. I'm grasping
at whatever straws are left. 

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acknowledge 

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excerpt from Hope Chest In The Attic, 1993

You're my best friend
my love
you make me feel alive

Thank you
my inspiration

Thanks for going to C Street 
so many times with me

Thanks for talking to 
strangers on the Quad

Thanks for spilling 
your heart out to me

Thanks for being so caring

For buying me a 
Dr. Seuss book

for sitting with me 
by my Christmas tree

for inviting me to 
basketball games

for all the pizzas

for taking walks with me 
in the springtime 
at three in the morning

I say you can be happy 
for someone else's happiness

I feel that way about you 

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Childhood Memories one 

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I was in the basement, the playroom
that's where all my toys were, you see

and I had just run in there
after yelling at my family
sitting in the living room
"I hate you"

now, I've never said that before to 
my family, nor would I ever say
it again I knew better

and I had just run into the playroom
slammed the door shut
I couldn't have been more than five

and I ran in, and I looked for things 
to put in front of the door so they
couldn't open it and find me

I took one of my chairs
from my little play set
and dragged it over to the door

then I took the little schoolhouse for
Fischer-Price toys, the side opened 
up, it had a blackboard and everything
I took that little schoolhouse, put it
on the chair guarding the door
patiently obeying my orders

I was running around looking for
something else I could carry
to the door
when I heard the door knob turn
and my sister, with one arm
pushed all of my toys away
and opened the door

I knew I had been defeated 

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Childhood Memories two 

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I was in the basement, the playroom
that's where all my toys were, you see

and Sheri was with me
and we were playing house
or maybe it was office, we did that

instead a lot of the times. I had old forms
that businesses were throwing away,
we had two desks, dead calculators
my sister even made a switchboard for me

well, we were playing grown-up, whatever
the specifics were, I don't remember. Why
do children want to grow up anyway?
Because it's a different kind of pain, I think.

Well, we were playing this make-believe,
when I proceeded to go the the toy chest,
pull out my sister's old communion veil,
and walk around the pool table in the center 
of the room, take a step, feet together,
take a step, feet together.

What are you doing? she asked. Getting
married, I answered. Chris Caravette and I
were getting married, I said. Chris was a friend 
of my sister's, you see, an older man, in high
school, unlike us poor slobs who were still
children.

and she attended the wedding, and I threw her
the bouquet, and she caught it, just like
she was supposed to do, and when the 
whole thing was over I walked my imaginary
groom to the corner of the room and
put away the veil, and that's when she
took the veil, put it on, and acted like she was
getting married, too.

What are you doing? I asked. Getting
married, she answered. To who? I asked.
To Chris Caravette, she answered. And we
argued and argued, but I just married him,
you're not supposed to do that, and before 
you knew it we were in a shouting match.

Why did we want to grow up anyway? Because 
we wanted a different kind of pain, I think. 

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Childhood Memories three 

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I was in the basement, the playroom
that's where all my toys were, you see

and that's also where I kept my bubble gum
you see, whenever I saved money I
would buy bubble gum

and my friends would come over, and
they would ask if they could have some
gum

and I would say that I didn't have any
and they didn't believe me

you see, I hid it
and I hid it so well that even when
they went looking all around the playroom
they couldn't find it

and all the time it was right behind
my play desk on a little shelf
in a little box 
with a rose on top

it was one thing I had that they didn't
it was one thing I had that no one could
take from me

they would ask over and over again
I would laugh and laugh
but I just wouldn't give them any 

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Childhood Memories four 

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I was in the first grade, in Mrs.
Lindstrom's class

and every morning, probably
around ten-thirty, we would have

snack-time. And everyone would
get their snacks that their mommies

made for them, and we'd all
sit and eat. But me and Lori

Zlotow, we would take our math
books, hold them up like a tray,

throw a napkin over our arms, 
put all of our snacks on our books,

and walk around the room
bartering for better snacks. "I'll

give you this apple for your
candy bar." We'd finish trading,

come back with a quarter of an
orange, an extra piece of gum.

We'd put the orange quarter in 
our mouths, peel and all, and

act like monkeys. And laugh. 

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Childhood Memories five 

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I was in the fifth grade, and I had
Mr. Roop for spelling and english.
He was a great teacher, but there

is something I'll never forget from
his class. You see, he had this
honors spelling team called the

"tough ten" and once we had to 
learn the word "pneumonoultra-
microscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis."

It was a form of black lung disease,
the longest word in the english
language, the second largest in the

world. I still remember it to this 
day. And when giving us weekly 
spelling tests, he would say a word, 

then use it in a sentence. Whenever 
the word "doctor" came up, he 
would say the word, then recite 

the lyrics: "doctor, doctor, give me 
the news, I've got a bad case of..." 
and he'd get embarrassed and laugh 

and wouldn't be able to say "loving 
you." And we'd laugh too, write the
word down, and wait for him to say 

the next word. 

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Childhood Memories six 

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It was Sunday night, I was
put to bed for school
the next day at around noon,

but by now it was already
eleven-thirty,
after a weekend a fun I
could relax enough to go to sleep.

So it was late, and I was in
bed, listening to my clock-radio,
like I always did. And suddenly
there was a news report

and John Lennon was shot.
A few minutes later
and the reports were
that he was dead.

And the next morning I walked
downstairs and my mother
was reading the paper.
And the news was there, it
wasn't a dream, I knew
the news before my parents did.

After he died I remember
in school one of my teachers wrote in 
calligraphy on a piece of paper
and put it on their bulletin board,
"You may say I'm a dreamer,
but I'm not the only one.
I hope someday you'll join us
and the word will live as one." *

and my seat, the chair with the little
basket under the seat
for my books, the chair
attached to the desk,
my seat was in the front to the side,
right in front of that bulletin
board.
And every day I would look up 
and see it there, my first
brush with death.

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* "imagine", John Lennon 

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Childhood Memories seven 

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I was in kindergarten
and we were at our tables
working on an art project

and at the next table
Mike was eating his paste
with the stick that comes in the cap

and I thought

that's strange 

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Christmas Eve 

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we made dinner
fettuccini alfredo
with chicken and duck

vegetables
bread

we ate
couldn't finish everything

we were putting on our coats
getting ready to go
to midnight mass

i decided to pack up
our leftovers
give them
to some homeless people
on the main street

we got in the car
and drove
to broadway and berwyn

i got out of the car
walked over to a man there

asked him if he was hungry

i got the bowl of noodles 
and the gallon of milk
out of the car
another man walked over to me

i told them to promise
that they would share

i got in the car
we were just driving

and all i could think of
was these two men
in the cold
eating pasta with their fingers

on Christmas Eve 

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Conversations
a day of grieving, 1/22/94 

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I

my father was a good man
gentle kind
never raised his voice

he was an architect

one day i went with him on career day
he put me in front of a drafting table
with paper and crayons

i drew all day

i thought he had 
the best job in the world
he could sit and draw all day
he had everything

and he never raised his voice

he died when i was fifteen
of a heart attack

i took classes later in architecture
i wanted to understand
his love his passion

i wanted everything

he smoked and ate poorly when he was younger
i guess it caught up to him

he was going through a divorce then
mom wanted it
she never even went to his funeral

they say it was 
a heart attack
i say it was
a broken heart

i wish i could have said goodbye 

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Conversations 
a day of grieving, 1/22/94 

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II

the first death i remember
was a friend of the family

i was five
and i always played with her daughter

our families used to go on picnics together
we were never apart

then one day
they told me
the mother was murdered

no one ever talked about it
to this day
i still don't even know why
she was killed

or who did it

but after that day everything changed
we never spoke of her
like she never existed

we never spoke of our fear
of our pain
and we didn't go on picnics anymore 

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Conversations 
a day of grieving, 1/22/94 

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III

my father spoke polish
and so did we
until one day
he decided

"we're in america now,
they should speak english"

so when he wanted
to tell us something
he would speak in polish
and my mother
would translate

i'm thirty now,
and my father is sick
and dying

and he can't understand me

he's here before my eyes
and i can't tell him
all the things
i wanted to

like i love you

looking back
it seems obvious

we never talked
like a family

we never asked
each other
how was our day

so now when i see him
all i can do
is hold his hand
and show him
the emotions
on my face

i think he still understands 

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Conversations 
a day of grieving, 1/22/94 

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IV

i was ten
when my grandfather died

we visited him the week before
and his last words to me
were,

"you're the most beautiful girl
in the world"

i went to the funeral
his eyes closed
dressed in a suit
hands folded

he never wore a suit

and everyone
brothers, sisters,
cousins, uncles
talked about past weddings
other times together

i wanted to tell them
to pay him some respect

don't laugh
don't be happy

he's in that coffin
up there
in the front of the room
he's dead

they're going to bury him tomorrow

but this is how things were
and i was only ten 

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Conversations 
a day of grieving, 1/22/94 

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V

i am a teacher
i teach high school in the suburbs

it's not like the city
there aren't gangs and drugs
but it's so stressful

i also try to counsel my students
one girl
pregnant by her boyfriend
got an abortion

that night
he raped her

that was his present to her
after she aborted his baby

what do i say to her

and what do i say
every day
when i see
the rapist

he's a student
in my seventh hour class

this week alone
i did two suicide interventions
i counseled two teenagers

how am i supposed
to go to sleep at night

i sit in bed
awake
and worry 

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Conversations 
a day of grieving, 1/22/94 

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VI

i sit in my house
i've been so tired

i can't take being alone

i'm too scared
too many things
weighing on my mind

one day
the child from next door 
came over

i was working in my kitchen
he told me to look 
outside my front window

i didn't want to stop my work

he begged me to look
so i got up
walked over to
my living room

and outside
the picture window
in my front lawn
was a row of little
snowmen

"those are little children
out there 
to make you
happy"

he said

and they did 

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Conversations 
a day of grieving, 1/22/94 

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VII

there has been a lot of
death
in my family

my brother died
when he was three
i was seven

his appendix exploded
they operated
then they realized
a sponge was missing

it was inside of him

they gave him 
some extra penicillin
opened him up again

there was an infection
they removed
the sponge
closed him up

gave him more
penicillin
but they didn't know
he was allergic

he died within two weeks

my other brother
overdosed on drugs
when he was twenty-seven
i was twenty-six

then a year ago
my son died
he was hit by a car
he was thirteen

at my brother's funerals
everyone ended up
going to a restaurant
and getting drunk
for hours

i didn't want that for my son

i made sandwiches and coffee
at my house

in the church it was 
standing room only
everyone from the seventh
and eighth grade was there

everyone from every
fire department my
husband ever worked for
was there

there was even a fire truck
for a bed of flowers

there were lines out the door
to the church
there wasn't any drinking

and people flooded me
at my house

all in all
it was a
very nice funeral 

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Conversations 
a day of grieving, 1/22/94 

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VIII

when their mother died
they asked me to
deliver the sermon

i make it a policy
to meet with the family
try to understand the deceased
before i give a sermon

they met with me
told me how she made 
ceramic nativity scenes
for all of her grandchildren

i asked if a grandson 
could bring me a set to see

i kept them in my office
for two days

when i first picked them up
and looked at them
i noticed there were
no brush strokes

then i looked more closely
and saw fingerprints

at the service
i placed the figurines
on pillars
each with one candle

and said her prints are on
these figures
and her mark has been made
on all of us

two weeks later
they gave me a madonna
with her prints on it

it is a work of art 

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Coslow's 

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I am back
at my old college
hang-out

years later

sharing some beers
with an old friend

then i remember
being there
with a friend
who used to
work there

she told me about the
women's bathroom

in all my years
I had never
been there

she said
women write on the wall
at the left
of the stall
women write
that they've been raped

they name names

there were arrows
pointing
to other women's
messages
saying
"i've heard this before"

first names
last names

when she told me
of this
years ago
i walked in
read the names
and wrote down one
of my own

i forgot about that wall
until now
and i am back
just yards away
from the
bathroom door

i get up
walk
open the door
years later

all the names are still there
jake jay josh larry matt scott

i can even still see
my own writing
it didn't take long
to find it 

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death 

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when he was a child, a little boy, he 
would walk through the living room

over and over again
he would see the book on the shelf

a science book, a volume
from a set: a book about

how the world works

once he looked though the pages
found a drawing about the life

of planet earth, how it was
formed, how eventually the

temperature would rise, all life
on earth would eventually die

and reading that it was
millions of years away didn't help

with the fear, the instant panic:
so he took the book, hid the

one volume from the rest, 
so he wouldn't have to see it

when he walked through his
own living room 

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decorating the lockers 

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Days when we sat in the gold gym,
Friday afternoons, hot Indian summer
days. Days with a pep assembly, 
there would be a contest, which 
grade could cheer the loudest?
Those were the days when the
cheerleaders lead us on in school
spirit, and we wished the football
country, made it big.
Had a friend from high school visit.
And they drove out on a road together;
could they still hear the cheering, the
screaming, faster and faster, down the
road, they're winning the big game,
faster and faster, then black.

The hero walked away from the twisted
mangled wreck, to find his friend
couldn't hear the cheering. No one
assembles for him now, for the loss 
of his friend. Why did the hero get 
all the attention?

There was no screaming, just the 
low, dull moan in his head 

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dive 

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The water has always called
to me. I had to go, I know
you don't understand, but 
it was the end for me.
You stand on the edges 
of the cliff, waiting, hoping,
but I'm gone. I left.
I was gone before I dove into the
murky water.
The pain that was inside
me is now in the water. The
tides are now stronger. They 
will pull the next one in with
even more power. It may be you.
The birds are chirping in the
trees. A car will soon drive
by on the road not far from
your path. Life will go on, 
even without me. My spirit was
here, in the water, before I left.
I had to go. Try to understand. 

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he told me his dreams

I

he was walking by the
white hen pantry
on sixth and green

and they turned around the
corner in the car
opened fire on him

he was hit over and over
again; his teeth were
shattered by bullets

he said he died then
and he saw from up above
his bloody body

he even saw his obituary

but then he went back, did it
over again: this time
he was in the doctor's

office. It's always like this,
he thinks, always
running away from death 

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he told me his dreams 

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II

he was in bed, but
it wasn't with her, like
he would expect: it was

with her best friend, and 
they were making love, in
his bed. he didn't realize

it wasn't her until he
was making love. strange;
where was she in the dream 

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he told me his dreams 

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III

he was making love to a
woman, he didn't know
who, he thought she was

blonde. They were in a forest 
together, he thinks. And when
they were done, he was

with her later, but she wasn't
the same woman anymore; in
fact, she was his cousin. Why

does he keep having dreams
like this, he asks me, am I
obsessed with sex? No, I

said, just look closely. Why
do you think things are
never as they seem 

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he told me his dreams 

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IV

as he wakes up less
rested than the night before.
I had a dream my teeth

fell out again, he said.
This time they fell out one by
one, first slowly, then faster.

Sometimes they all fall out
at once, sometimes they fall
one row at a time. I try to

stuff them back into my mouth.
What is this supposed to
mean? I don't understand.

I just don't understand these 
dreams. What does it mean
when you dream your teeth

fall out, when you dream it 
regularly? I think it means
I'm afraid of commitment.

No, I said, it means
you're pregnant. That didn't
go over well with him. And he

walked to the washroom,
brushed his teeth, made sure to
floss, like he would four

more times that day 

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he told me his dreams 

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V

they were trying to kill
me again, why am I
always running away

from them? they had guns, 
they had pistols, machine 
guns, as they always

do, and I only had my
feet to keep me away
and save me. I

could feel the bullets
riddling my body. who
are they, why do I

always have to run away;
even in my own dreams,
who am I running from 

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he told me his dreams 

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VI

in the recurring dream
during my childhood
I was on a sort of game show:

and every time I would
be faced with three doors
to choose from. They

always had the same things 
behind them. The first
time I had the dream

I asked for door number
three. Behind the door was a
desolate hill with a tree

on the top. I would then 
climb the hill, climb the tree
if I could, just to see if

there was something else.
Nothing. Just a hill, just a
tree. Other nights when I

would dream of it I would
go back to the hill, find a 
wooden ladder at the tree,

climb it and find a fort to 
play in. But that was all, still
so lonely. On other occasions I

would choose door number two. 
Behind it was a dark tunnel, 
a scary tunnel; there was a 

light at the end of it, but I
would never get that far. I
would try to go through the

tunnel, but I only got a
strange feeling. Was there
anything there at the end?

Sometimes in the dream I
would choose door number
one. Behind it was a great 

Walt Disney World amusement
park, even better than
that. And there were roller

coasters, and lots of food.
It was my favorite door.
But sometimes I had no choice

which door I got. Sometimes
I'd notice more details, but
it was always those three

doors, the desolation, the 
fear, and the rewards. the 
doors were always the same 

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he told me his dreams 

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VII

when I was little
I would have dreams
where I found riches:

a large rare, expensive
gold coin, a pile of
money hidden in a cave.

And the one thing I
remember most is that
I always wanted to take 

it back with me; I knew
I was dreaming, and I
would think, "God, 

please, I just want to 
have this gold coin when
I wake up." And I 

would try to hold the 
treasure firmly in my
hand, wake myself

only to find tightly
clenched fists. Once I even 
remember putting

the wealth under my
pillow in my dream, and
then I would wake.

My instinct told me to 
turn over my pillow as
soon as I could. There

was never anything there 

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he told me his dreams 

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VIII

he remembers escaping from prison
he knew he had to escape
he was captured by evil people

he managed to run away
but the more he ran, the slower his steps
slower and slower, he's not going anywhere

the evil men with the machine guns
caught up
why can't he run away

they plugged him with bullets
forty, maybe more
he could feel them hitting him, feel them

he kept trying to run away
and they would catch up to him
take him back to prison, still alive

he lived through it
he was still full of holes
why can't he run away 

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she told me her dreams 

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I

we were at some sort of showing
some sort of exhibit
where they were displaying the glass 

sculpture, it was eighty-three
billion years old, and it was
more smooth than anything

and it went on and on, one smooth
curve after another
it was so old

they displayed it on the water
was it a lake, or the ocean
it rested on the water, religiously

and I was in the water with someone
a man, I don't know who
and we were swimming around it, 

touching it
he was on the other side, told
me to swim under it

I didn't think I could make it across
but I went under, across I went

I kept feeling the sides, the smoothness

somehow, transcribed along the
sides of the sculpture, was a
time line, a record of history

there's wasn't much at eighty-three
billion years ago, but there was
more and more the closer we got

to present
I remember reading Lyndon 
Johnson's name, and then I saw

information about the future
it was all on the glass, I was
looking at it, but I can't remember

what it says 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

she told me her dreams 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

II

The Bulls basketball game
was being aired on television
but I was playing a game

with my co-workers, we were
playing a game ourselves,
and it was being recorded

and being aired over the
basketball game
I remember I was in an

argument with one of my
coworkers at the time, but
they never caught any of

that on television
I remember knowing that
the camera was on me

and I remember thinking
"everyone who is watching
the Bulls game will be

watching me" 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

she told me her dreams 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

III

this is my recurring dream:
I am in a garage
with my two brothers, there

is a window near the top of
one of the sides
and one of my brothers is

looking through it. There was
also a draining grate
on the floor of the garage

and my other brother was 
looking down into it
and I sat there in the labyrinth

for the garage was filled
with a tall maze
and we all had to get through

it in order to leave the
garage
but there was a dragon

in the garage with us, and
every dream was my 
brothers, looking out the

window, looking into the
darkness, and then all of
us running for our lives 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

she told me her dreams 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

IV

I was in a shopping mall
with Efi, I don't know why
I was with him, they call

him smelly
and we were walking on
the first floor, and we 

were near the stairs to
go down to the basement
and someone came along

and pushed Efi down the 
stairs, he must have died
and everyone wanted to

know who murdered him
and I saw who it was

down in the basement of
the mall was a marker board
and I wrote a message

I wrote, "I saw who did
it." And later I went back
to the board and someone

else wrote me a message.
It said, "It wasn't Peppers. 
He's a good guy." And I 

saw who did it, and I
know it wasn't Peppers.
A third person got to the

board before me and 
tried to scratch out the
name Peppers, but I could

still read it. No, it wasn't 
him, I knew who it was, even
if it was only in the dream 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

she told me her dreams 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

V

I was back at my college town
with some women from a sorority
we took pillows outside to the top of

a cliff, to enjoy homecoming
my friends, a woman and her
boyfriend, were at the bottom

of the cliff, at the lake, swimming
one of the women from the sorority
rested on a big pillow on a rock

then the man from the lake came
up the cliff to me, told me the
woman in the lake wanted me to

come down the cliff and swim with
them, and then he tried to drag me
down the side of the cliff

I was afraid I was going to fall
I was screaming, I was resisting
why is he pushing me, why is she

watching 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

she told me her dreams 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

VI

I went to visit some old friends
we were going to a party together

I went outside to save a
space for my car

I came back, but they
left for the party without me

I was abandoned 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

transcribing dreams

I

I was at a beach, I don't know 
why the dream was there, but
it was, the dream I mean. And
you were there, and your family
too, and at one point your little
sister, the one that isn't so little
anymore, pulled me to the side
and told me she was pregnant.
She loved her boyfriend, she
couldn't have an abortion, she 
didn't want to tell her parents.
And she told me, and I didn't 
know what to do. Later in the 
dream, still at the beach, she
told you, and your parents, and
you were screaming that you 
were going to kill her boyfriend,
and your mother was babbling
what would the neighbors think
and your father was speechless.
And I know that all of you were
hurting her more, that what she
needed most was supportive 
words, someone to hold her.
Didn't you think she was scared
enough, I wanted to ask. But
I didn't, I watched all of you
do this to her, the poor little girl.
How scared she must have been 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

transcribing dreams 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

II

me any my sister and my
mother were driving at night
and we were approaching
and s-curve in the street.
We had to turn right, drive 
a half block, then turn left.
When we took the corner
there was a fire in the
building right in front of us,
and there were all these
fire trucks and ladders and
water spraying through the
air. And we couldn't turn
around and go back, we had
to drive past this, and the
car got faster and faster,
I felt like I was being thrown
toward the inferno. And I
saw firemen that were on
ladders on the second and
third floors being thrown
away from the building by 
the flames, falling, screaming,
falling to their deaths. And we
sped around the corner, my
sister was falling out of the 
car as we took the turn so
fast. She was holding on to
the frame of the car and we 
watched firemen fall from
the sky, and I sat in the center
of the backseat, not knowing
what to think, watching it all 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

transcribing dreams 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

III

I was walking into your living room
and there was a ten-gallon fish
tank there. You just bought it. You
were looking at the fish, that's when
I walked over. And I saw a shark
fish in the tank, one about eight
inches long, and he was at the bottom,
killing and eating a four-inch fish.
There were other one-inch fish
swimming at the top, neon tetras,
small things. And I walked over and
the shark was just eating the four-
inch fish, and soon he was completely
gone. And you were just looking,
you could do nothing to save the fish.
And then another four-inch fish
came out of hiding from behind a plant
on the left side of the tank, and he 
darted around. It looked like he was
in a state of panic, maybe he breathed 
the blood of the other four-inch
fish, his ally, his family. And he
started darting around the tank, and
the shark was just sitting at the
bottom of the tank, and the other
four-inch fish darted more. And then 
the shark opened his mouth, and in
a darting panic, the four-inch fish
swim straight into the shark's
mouth. All he had to do was close
his mouth and swallow the fish whole.
There was no fight, like with the
first one. There was no struggle.
And I looked over at you, and you
were amazed that this shark just ate 
your two fish, which were probably
over ten dollars each, and that they
didn't just get along in the tank
together. And I looked at the tank,
and I saw the one-inch neon tetras
darting around along the top of the 
water. They knew they would be
victims later, trapped in this little
cage, and that the shark would just
wait until he was bored until he
administered his punishment. I
wanted to ask you why you 
bought all of these different-sized
fish and expected them to live together
peacefully. Maybe you didn't even
realize that the shark would need
more food than he was prepared to
but him. Besides, a shark that size
shouldn't even be alone in a tank as 
small as ten gallons. He needs room
to grow. But before I could say
anything, I saw the shark swim to
the top of the water, push his head
and nose out of the water, open the
lid to the top of the aquarium. You
weren't looking, so I told you to 
look to the top, and not to get too 
close. And the shark just sat there,
looking at you, and it looked as if
he wanted to show you what a good
eater he was. It was almost as if
he was looking to you for approval. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

forward 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

apparent
web
maze
end
minotaur
center
heart
preys

arms
groping
arms
hide
sky
closer
you
black
black
hope
melt
knives
cutting
slicing
below
down

you
forward
agony

forward
forward
hope
nightmare
desperation 
pain 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

french quarter 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

blue dog
red cat

painted faces
shaping balloons

red dead crawfish
staring from the plate

stumbling men
streets filled with drink

painted women
on display

there is no sleep
but there are the streets

wear the mask
at night

there are two choices
for pleasure

go out or
go to bed 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

games 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

They put in the tape
when dad comes home
from playing cards.
Concentration, Password,
Shop till you Drop...
and when they get to
Wheel of Fortune, mom
has to be quiet when she
knows the puzzle, dad
gets mad when she blurts
it out. How the hell was
I supposed to know that,
he yells. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

he told me his dreams 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

IX

She said: Do you know that feeling
you get when you're starting
to fall asleep and then suddenly

you feel like you're falling
very quickly and you instantly
wake yourself up? Everyone

gets that feeling sometimes 
when they sleep. Did you know
your body does that on purpose?

You see, it happens when you're
very tired and your body starts 
to fall into a sleep state at too 

fast a speed. Your heart rate,
your breathing shouldn't slow
down that fast. So your body

makes you feel like you fall
so you'll wake up, feel a little
tense, and fall asleep more

slowly. He said: No, no, that's 
not what I'm talking about.
I know that feeling, but 

what I'm talking about is 
being in a dream and going 
to the edge of a cliff and jumping.

She said: Well, what happens?
Do you land? He said: Sometimes
I wake up before I land,

sometimes I land gently and
live. You've never had a dream
like that before? She said:

No. He said: Why do I have
dreams like this? Why this cliff?
Why do I fall? How do I land? 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

hole in the heart 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

night
before 
sleep
you
I

light
my
bed

feels

missing
hole 
where
is

lay
night
alone
you
feel
am
complete
nothing
matters

you
hand
your
me
sleep

my
bed
hole
through 
heart
wish 
feel
alone
wish 
hole 
away 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

how you looked then

I take snapshots of these things in my mind. I rifle through them.
I never told you that I loved to watch you in the bathroom, getting ready to go out. It would usually 
be after you shaved, or even after you dressed, when you were almost ready to go but had to fix 
your hair. And you'd look in the mirror,and you'd be brushing the sides of your head with your 
curved fingertips, and you'd be scrutinizing yourself, eyes just slightly squinted. I always thought 
you looked most handsome when you did that with your eyes, squinted like that, like you were 
looking for something, searching.
When I'd see you in the bathroom mirror like that, I'd usually wrap myself around your arm, lean 
my head on your shoulder, and just stare. I don't think you ever noticed how I'd look at you at 
those time. Like you were my mentor. My savior.
Or when we were at that restaurant and you were sitting across from me, wearing the denim 
button-down shirt I bought you, and you were eating, and you were slouched over your plate, 
elbows on the table, and you were just eating, not paying attention to much else around you. And 
you hadn't shaved in a few days, and the copper-colored stubble was every once in a while 
catching the light. And in between bites you kept combing your hair back with your fingers, 
because it kept falling while you ate.
While you were eating, I just had to stop, lean back, and stare at you for a while. I don't know why, 
but I'll never forget how you looked then. 

copyright (c) janet kuypers 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

ikebana 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rolled up sleeves,
Dark denim, strings pulled
At the buttons

Your hands, the
Rough edges, the nails
Jagged, not cut

Your fingers, I've 
Noticed them: one has
A long scar

Along the tip, and
Your skin is rough
Along the nails

Your hands, they're 
Skilled hands of an 
Artist at work:

And like a
Conductor, you
Orchestrate

Bring beauty
From the dying
Flowers at

The table. They
Line up quickly,
At attention:

Fall into
Place so gracefully.
You create

Symphonies,
Move mountains, Seas
Part for you.

You can do
Anything. I 
See that now.

You must be
My savior. Let me
Follow you.

Let me create
Beauty in your
Name, let me

Feel your power.
It's all in your
Hands, your heart,

Your mind:
I've seen you stop
Wars, feed the

Hungry. Why are 
You so strong? Why
Are your flowers

So beautiful 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

J'Reviens 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's harder to find the
eye shadow I have
always used. And my 
favorite cologne - 
J'Reviens - was that it?
Yes, it was. I wish I was 
as beautiful now as
I was then. Son, you
don't understand. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jackson Square/Bourbon Street 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

we'll read your palm
we'll sketch your face
we'll take you for a carriage ride

we'll pipe you full of liquor
we'll give you naked women
we'll make you happy

aren't you happy, friend 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

James 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I
you
hours
walking
conversation
think
the
one

pushed
arm
pulled
held
close
think
together
didn't

right

sat
park
expect
sat
talked 
future
past
republicans

confused

room
think
doing
know 
didn't
know
get
something
want
didn't
know
bother
care 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

jonathan 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

room
cigarette
smoke
conversation
lights
face
who
envisioned
figure
sensitiviy

thoughtfulness
hands
skin
mine
rehearsed
mind
created
dinners
dancing
loving

never 
crowded
room

music
shoulder
faces
image
laughing
smiling
conversing
envy
why
me 

face
room
dream
never
life 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

knife 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

there
dancing 
floor
toys
knife
face
the 
wounds
apologies
lips

hard
show

know
notice 
knife

bought
myself

proud
sure 
knife
think
mine
yours
waste 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

mask 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

masquerade
complied

dress
costume
face
tears
mask

pay
join 
say

high
mask
hope
no 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

my father, shooting an animal 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

we sat in our
dining room, looking out
the sliding glass doors

onto the patio, the
expanse of concrete that
led to the pool, fenced

away from the ravine.
Father had a dislocated
shoulder, his arm was

in a sling. He had
a friend's shotgun, some
sort of instrument

and he looked out 
the window, sister and I
behind him, looking

over his shoulder.
And then he saw a small
squirrel, walking 

along the edge of the
patio, and father opened the
sliding glass doors

propped his gun
over his dislocated shoulder,
tried to look

through the sight and
keep the gun balanced. He
usually didn't use

guns, he seldom 
borrowed them. And here he
stood, in his own

house, aiming at the
animal at the edge of our
property, with one

good arm. And then
he shot. We all looked; the
animal, hit, stumbled

into a nearby hole.
He hit the animal, despite all 
his trouble, all his pain.

People wonder why 
he shot the animal. I wonder 
how. Could I do it, even

with two good arms.
Could I see through the sight,
could I aim well, strike. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

my love for you will stay the same 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

everybody's dreaming
everybody's screaming

everybody's looking for some shelter from the storm
and everybody's looking for someone to keep them warm
but I don't wanna play if you're a temporary game
my love for you will stay the same
my love for you will stay the same
(my love for you)

now the tide is turning
the fire embers burning

everybody wants to find a way to shed the shame
everybody wants to find a way to share the blame
but you can put me through the heartache, I can take the pain
my love for you will stay the same
my love for you will stay the same
(my love for you)

the rhythm in your fingers
the memory still lingers

listen to your flowers now, the petals scream out loud
and all these seasons come and go without a single sound
i can hear the flower petals calling out your name
my love for you will stay the same
my love for you will stay the same
(my love for you) 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

orion 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Winter evenings I would look for you.
Dancing along the horizon. You were
always fighting; the great bear to the
north, the bull in the winter.

You were my favorite. whenever I
could I would look for you: out my
window, in my driveway. I remember
a nebula lived in the center of your sword.

You, spending millennia fighting. You
have taught me well. The other night, I
looked out my window again; you were
there. Receiving strength from me,

as I did so many years in you. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

other horizons 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I live in the basement
it's all I can afford
nothing grows there

but I would have a little plant
at my office desk
every morning
water it watch it grow

I'd take on all those tasks
I'd even have my own partition

I live in a room
with no view
but I don't need one
no oceans, no skylines

when I make it
I'll look out the window
at the whole damn city 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

our anniversary 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they met
to take us out 
for our anniversary

oh, it was so
beautiful
the boys are so
thoughtful
nothing could be
better

don't you think so, darling
oh, you boys know
he loves it
you know he does 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

paper 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

park

bench
paper
pigeons

watch you
glasses
legs

hiding
know
you

name
face

bench
newspaper

footsteps
story
here

made
move

bench
aloof
sat
away

paper
eyes
burned
pages
breath
streaming
body.

eyelids
open 
close

heat
radiated

paper
you
gone 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

paranoia 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

we sit here at dinner.
I try to breathe.
My hands rest on my thighs.
I must watch to be sure,
everything must be right:
the silverware, small fork,
large fork, plate, knife,
large spoon, small spoon.
Water glass. Wine glass.

I know no one else sees them:
the fish, the red fish, in
the curtains along the wall.
You have to watch them.
My eyes always glance there.

They are evil fish. They sit
in the curtains, they wait,
and then they come out.

And the yogurt, the yogurt
is the only thing that can
save me from them. throw
the yogurt, take a spoon,
use your hands. Anything.

And we sat there before
dinner, and he ate his
yogurt with his first spoon
before I could stop him.

How could you do this? How
can you save yourself from
the evil fish now? Will
I have to save you again,
do you even understand
the danger

------------------------------------------------------------------------

poam: a conversation with Jimbo Breen 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

dedicated to Steve, a marine

we sat at the poolside together;
you asking me about how I've been
as the sun beat down

and we talked about nuclear war.
You said you didn't believe in it,
and I strained to understand

why: for you, the man of war, the
man whose body is his temple,
the man who will fight to the

death. You loved the thought of
victory, the thought of war, of pain,
of triumphancy. And I sat there

in the swimming pool while you sat
on the edge. I paused. Then it
occurred to me: you would want

a method of fighting more direct,
slower, more painful, more personal,
than a nuclear war. You'd want to

fight them one on one, man to 
man, with your fists. And your eyes 
lit up. I was beginning to understand,

now, only years later. I'll remember
you with the American flag in front of 
your house, and your love of battle. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Poam: Militant Man With Schizophrenia
I
the problem with people
in this country today
is they don't love
the US of God damn A anymore
All these yuppie faggots
riding their trains to work
their bmws their jags
and I went to war for 'em
went to hell and back
we chanted
Sodomize Hussein for 'em
and we loved the God dman wars
WWI, II, Korea, Nam, Nicaragua, Iraq
cause we were fighting for something
something real
what the hell
what has this country
come to
II
Ha. He thinks he's really funny. Strong.
I'm Jennifer. I know him. He hasn't been laid in
years, and most of the times were with foreign
women. What does it mean when you have to pay
for sex? It means you're not a man, and he knows
it.
He doesn't usually let me come out. But, you
see, I'm really stronger than him. Oh, and that
kills him, a woman being stronger than him.
But, you see, he never lets himself be loved.
He tries to hide himself in his stupid war
talk.
But I come out every once in a while, put on
my little red dress, put on the lipstick. Mmm, you
know, lipstick feels so good gliding across your
lips.
III
I shanked a nigger faggot
when i was in the clink
the faggot tried to rape me
but he didn't know who he was dealing with
I'm a man, Goddamnit
I've robbed stores
I've killed men
I've had women
and there's always an enemy
and I can beat 'em all
once
when I was in grade school
a kid called me a pansy
and I beat him so hard
they had to take him
to the hospital
nobody messes with
jimbo breen
IV
I know I'm better looking than all those Hustler
magazines he keeps.
He keeps these old magazines, you see, old
car and drivers, old soldier of fortunes
old hustlers.
Some of 'em gotta be ten years old.
Usually when I take over I just look through
those sex mags and laugh. They don't know
what they're doing. I could make a man happy.
I could give it to him any way he wanted it.
God, I want a man inside of me, in my mouth, in
me now.
I could even climb the corporate ladder, if that's
what would turn them on, if only I could overpower
that bastard's mind. I could be fucking every man 
I saw.
I could walk out on the streets and be whoever I 
wanted. God, I could be something.
V
women are such bitches
they can't be trusted
VI
Who is he hiding from? Let me come out.
VII
this is a good country
nobody's got no
God damn pride anymore
and I'm sick of
all the faggot yuppies
these God damn cowards
corporate cogs
they don't stand up
for what they believe in
and people
don't fear the Lord
anymore
know who they should
look up to
I have a picture of Ollie North
it's an eight-by-ten
it's framed in my kitchen
VIII
I wish he'd clean this place up. I'm not going to 
do it. What, does he think I'm gonna cook for him
too?
Why doesn't he get a job, one that lasts for more 
than four months, one that's not in a liquor store
so he can get drunk every chance he gets. 
Thank God
he doesn't have the guns anymore. He used to
have a ton of 'em, keep them hidden in every
corner of this one-bedroom hole above some
old bag's garage. If the guns were still here, I'd kill 
him.
No, I couldn't, I'd be killing myself then. He's all
I got. I just wanna get out, I wanna live, I wanna 
stop hiding.
I want him to take down his guard for just one minute,
that guard of his that is still stronger than his
sargeant's from Korea. Damnit.
I wish his mind would just rest, so I could take it over
again, but it seems to always be there, on the
defensive, darting around, looking for ways to protect
himself.
IX
there's a war
behind every corner
you're gotta learn
to fight
people don't know
who to trust anymore
what to
believe in
but I do

copyright (c) janet kuypers 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Private Lives I
the elevated train, Chicago, Illinois 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

why do these chairs
have to face
each other?

They say Americans
need their space
need their privacy
and here I sit
briefcase in lap
while he sits right
across from me
staring

I can't look I can't
he has to see
my eyes darting
my tension
my privacy

in the edge of my vision
I see his dirty clothes
his dirty hair
dirty mind

will he watch me
get off
note the stop I take
watch me walk too 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Private Lives II
the elevated train, Chicago, Illinois 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

the people you see

he was running his hands along the pages
of his large magazine
like petting his cat
slowly, gently
caressing the skin of the animal

back and forth

his eyes staring off into space
was he staring at me

I wasn't afraid to look at him
I knew he couldn't see me

his hands sliding over the braille
page after page

his eyes
fixed
in my direction

I think he knew I was looking 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Private Lives III
the elevated train, Chicago, Illinois 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The yuppies pile on the cars in their morning commute. It's amazing to think that just hours before 
now these cars were littered, scattered with an occasional bum, or a gang member, a drunk. Just 
a few hours before this any one of these people would be too afraid to step on this train.
I see two women step on to the car, each wearing full-length fur coats. Now they have to cram into 
this full car with all these wool coats, I'll bet they're furious. It would be so easy to spill my coffee 
on them. I'll bet they don't even know what the animals they killed for this looked like. How many 
animals would that be? Twelve? Fifteen? Oh, no matter, that's what they're there for, just like this 
train, serving its function, taking me where I want to go.
Next stop. More yuppies pile on to the train. Most stand without a rail to hold. I hear one yuppie girl 
say to her lover, "we're L-surfing," right before the train took a turn. All the yuppie suits trying to 
keep balance, trying not to fall.
I hear a yuppie boy say, "It's just like my living room, it's so spacious." You're the life of the 
party, friend. You're in your suit, you'll go places.
I read a sign above my head that says, "Crime Stoppers pays up to $1,000 for anonymous crime 
tips."
All the signs above our heads are for graffiti hot lines, pregnancy clinics, drug rehab centers. 
Signs telling people not to carry guns.
I remember afternoons on the train when homeless men would walk from car to car through the 
train, trying to sell a newspaper to the people commuting home.
In a few hours, when the yuppies are safe in their homes, with their children safe tucked into their 
beds, the homeless man will hide home too.
One of the women with the fur steps off the train. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Private Lives III
the elevated train, Chicago, Illinois 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The yuppies pile on the cars in their morning commute. It's amazing to think that just hours before 
now these cars were littered, scattered with an occasional bum, or a gang member, a drunk. Just 
a few hours before this any one of these people would be too afraid to step on this train.
I see two women step on to the car, each wearing full-length fur coats. Now they have to cram into 
this full car with all these wool coats, I'll bet they're furious. It would be so easy to spill my coffee 
on them. I'll bet they don't even know what the animals they killed for this looked like. How many 
animals would that be? Twelve? Fifteen? Oh, no matter, that's what they're there for, just like this 
train, serving its function, taking me where I want to go.
Next stop. More yuppies pile on to the train. Most stand without a rail to hold. I hear one yuppie girl 
say to her lover, "we're L-surfing," right before the train took a turn. All the yuppie suits trying to 
keep balance, trying not to fall.
I hear a yuppie boy say, "It's just like my living room, it's so spacious." You're the life of the 
party, friend. You're in your suit, you'll go places.
I read a sign above my head that says, "Crime Stoppers pays up to $1,000 for anonymous crime 
tips."
All the signs above our heads are for graffiti hot lines, pregnancy clinics, drug rehab centers. 
Signs telling people not to carry guns.
I remember afternoons on the train when homeless men would walk from car to car through the 
train, trying to sell a newspaper to the people commuting home.
In a few hours, when the yuppies are safe in their homes, with their children safe tucked into their 
beds, the homeless man will hide home too.
One of the women with the fur steps off the train. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Private Lives IV
the elevated train, Chicago, Illinois 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

you can hear the gears
speeding up
slowing down

I have seen into other's lives

a woman with two children
one sitting in a stroller
one standing
get on the train

she pulls the scarf
from around her neck
the gloves off

she reaches into her bag
finds a square of folded tin foil
carefully opens
pulls out a tissue

folds the tin foil
puts it away
wipes the children's noses

the standing child sees writing
on the back of her Batman doll

"What does it say?" "Made in China."
"Is that his name?"

this was the window
I was looking through 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

ring 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

ring
vows
memory
fail you
foreign
frightening
exciting 

name

care
ring
thought
behind 
dresser
see
tonight

resigned
forgot
with
you
lost
in
you
remember
myself 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

room 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

stairs
worn
right
days
hall

hall
around
anymore
couch
facing
room

to
myself
today

snap

open
creak
drawn
light

fear
again
anger
kicked
again

sweat
couldn't
do
bedroom
fists
walls 
rage
muscles
eyebrows
lips
sweat
bedroom

stomach
face
arms
hair
apart

again
face
sheets
screams
me
pain
light
bedroom

symbol
ethic
told
society

eyes

mine
Hell
dresser
pictures
me
frame
edges
floor
dresser
down

bedroom 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

silence 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"once"
fact
hand
sarcasm
silence
thrill
breaking
once--
raped

There.
break
silence 
weapons
compassion
knowledge
now
help
do
go
away
silence
someone
me
friend
now
find
again 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

st. anthony's medallion 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"A father brought his ten year old son to the cemetery where his mother was buried about a month 
earlier. It began to rain, and lightning struck the boy dead on the scene. It is believed a St. 
Anthony medallion worn around his neck acted as a conductor."

The sky is weeping again.
For me. What have I done,
this is my punishment for
what? You did this to me,

didn't you, you unfair God?
Didn't I tell them I loved
them enough? I went to the
school play, remembered

our anniversary. How am I
supposed to go on now? My
wife first, take her from me
first, then take the only thing

in this world that looks like
her. That has her nose. Her 
chin. Why couldn't I rip
that medallion off him, set

him free? Did I not watch
him enough? Did I not love
them enough? Why wasn't it
me? Why wasn't it me? Why? 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

the bridge to new orleans 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

you have to pass the desolation
before you get there
long, long bridges
overlooking swamps, decaying trees
occasionally a home
foundation crumbling
wet wood peeling away

what do those people see
the people in those homes
crocodiles, snakes
bugs along the water
a ripple of the murky
water under the full moon
the vultures perched 
along the treetops

they have the isolation
the beauty of the solitude
but it's a different kind of
decay they see
a different kind of decay
a different kind 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

twin 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

they tell me i was born
two months premature

the first of twins

they tell me it was difficult
my birth
i still can't hear in one ear

i have an indentation in my chest
on the right side
where they had to run a tube
in me
to keep me alive

they tell me they kept Douglas alive
for three weeks
but he just couldn't survive

i wonder what it would have been like
to have someone look just like me

we could switch places
fool everyone

we'd be inseparable

my family doesn't talk about
him much
but sometimes
i still think of him

maybe with the medical world
today
he would be alive

sometimes i feel
like i'm not whole 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

two years 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

rest
anymore
lead

me

anymore
talk
love

past
mind

pathetic
acts

scare 

present
can't
push
years 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

understand 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

down
in
understand
different

day
life
interrogation
face

change

will

break

day
battle
silence
me

beg
cry
conform
type
them
those

understand
learn

respect
human
me
room

music
shoulder
faces
image
laughing
smiling
conversing
envy
why
me 

face
room
dream
never
lifety
rested on a big pillow on a rock

then the man from the lake came
up the cliff to me, told me the
woman in the lake wanted me to

come down the cliff and swim with

------------------------------------------------------------------------

waiting for you (2/13/94) 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

i look out at the evening sky

snow falling out of the sky
star-shaped flakes as big as fingertips

falling onto my face
melting into my skin

touching me sharp and sweet

like your hand on my cheek

in the cold of winter
it almost feels warm 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

walking home from school 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

once when I was little

I was walking home from school
filled with fear, like I always was

the other kids made fun of me
they called me names
sometimes they threw rocks at me
once they pushed me to the ground
went home, bleeding knees and tears

but once, I'll never forget, Patti
from 121st street was
walking behind me and threw
her gym shoes at me

they landed right next to me
as I was walking down 
that first big hill

I don't know if I stopped
but I remember for a brief moment
looking up at the tall tree branches
next to the road

all the entangled dead branches

and I thought 
that all I had to do
was pick up her shoes
and throw them

as hard as I could

and she would never 
get her shoes back

I looked at the trees
for only a moment
and I continued walking
as fast as I could
as I always did
and suddenly the shoes 
were long behind me

and the others were laughing

I look back now
and wonder why I didn't
do it

was I scared of them
was I scared of myself

I still keep asking myself that 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

walking with you (2/18/94) 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's springtime again
and here we are,

picking flowers from neighbor's yards
at three a.m.

it's still a little cold
it's still only April
as the wind rushes through our clothes

hands clasped walking in stride

lily of the valley,
tulips, daffodils

it's a beautiful wind 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

wanting you (2/18/94) 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's night again
the candles flicker
I curl up in myself
trying to keep warm

that's when I feel most alone
when I get lonely
depressed

when will this end
the nights the solitude

that's when I miss you most

sometimes I feel
like I'm not whole

soul mate 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

watching you (2/18/94) 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

a strand of your hair
falling into your eyes

you brush it behind your ear

you move your head
lean over

it falls again

it curls in just the right way
it makes a perfect tunnel

it directs me
my eyes are drawn
to your beautiful blue eye 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

with you (2/18/94) 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's Friday again

the birds are singing this morning
the sun is out
it's warmer than usual

maybe it's always like this
maybe it's today

it always seems darker
when you're further away


------------------------------------------------------------------------


without you (1/6/94)



------------------------------------------------------------------------

i look out at the evening sky


trees laced with snow 
on the delicate branches
glistening in the whiteness

the darkened sky the powdered streets

the trees aren't as beautiful anymore 
------------------------------------------------------------------------




Copyright Janet Kuypers. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission.