My Poetry

I Want to Give You Pause

I want to bump up against you
I purpose my words on line
for the exact impact I want

never for the perfect word
on the perfect line

some imperfect words
with imperfect sounds
and imperfect pause

I want to bump up against you
not just with words
but with spaces
and pauses

we are interacting
you and I
in a dance

if I guide you perfectly
what have you learned
of me?

if I guide you imperfectly
in my world
you have not only danced
with me
you have danced with my soul.

I want to give you pause.

Come dance with me.

~ Kate

My Poetry

Very Little, Very Much

I had very little

so much so

I thought myself safe

from harm

safe from theft

I forgot about me

I didn’t know

others would

try to steal

every cent




no you cannot have me

~ Kate

My Poetry

Looking Out
in the cage
sorrow follows me
can’t leak out
it clings to me
in the cage
happiness can’t fit in
through the bars
in the cage
i cannot go
i think
i want
i think
about it
all the time
in the cage
the door swings
back and forth
while i stare
~ Kate

My Poetry

September 11, 2001

(written Sept. 12, 2001)

I believe
we are all
I believe
we all have
a soul

all animals
all inanimate objects
have a soul

I believe
our souls are
drawn to one
that we join
together with
the earth
and form a great
collective soul

I believe
we all need
each other
we derive
soul to soul
I believe

I believe
our souls
grieve together
for all our losses

mothers fathers
husbands wives
friends, workers, and children
Christians, Buddhists, Jews,
Muslims, Pagans;
all believers and non alike,
great souls
once great cells
have been cut loose from us
and we will never be the same
and I grieve.

~ Kate

My Poetry

little girl

little girl
so precious
so pure
little light
in eyes
shining bright
mother blocks
the light
from reaching
little girl
drowns the light
inside her eyes
lights a fire
of rage in
little girl’s heart
years later
light still
burning bright
little girl inside
the big girl
still so precious
still so pure

~ Kate

My Poetry

Revenge Visualizations #1

I want to put on a pair of kick-ass boots and stomp you into nothingness. Instead, I think of you and I, in a room full of glass bottles. I start stomping the glass, making broken bottles with multi-colored shards strewn across the room. I jump up and down, like a child might do, traveling around the room making tiny bits of color. While humming a happy tune, I make a rainbow of hope, a rainbow of healing, a rainbow of revenge. As I smash the glass back to its tiny original form and you become nothingness as you drown in a sea of sand.

My Poetry

Down to the Zero of Myself


for Eve Ensler
(writer/creator of “The Vagina Monologues,” “The Good Body,” V-Day, an international effort to stop violence against women, and a survivor of physical violence by her father.

Based on a piece called “Down to the Zero of Myself” from the book “Insecure at Last” by Eve Ensler.

down to the zero of myself
here all alone
somewhere on the road

you are
in the depths of emptiness
as it washes and breaks
over you
lost, unremembered
no existence
down to the zero

reduced by your father
to zero,
his hands, his fists
his belt, his words
down to the shame
down to the emptiness
inside you
down to the zero

the huge inner room
gapes and yawns
to swallow you
into the inner reality,
a terrible place

all the things you did
all you were willing to do
to change, to fill it
nothing changed
it would not go away


swimming at last,
in the center

swimming at last
in the center
of your soul,

~ Kate

My Poetry

Demeter’s Other Daughter


I was Demeter’s other daughter
the unwanted one
When I was stolen away
When I was raped
When I was abused
Demeter’s fields still
grew beautiful golden wheat
Demeter’s flowery sites
still delivered up golden fruits
for harvest

When I was beaten
Demeter looked away
When I was tied and gagged
Demeter continued to
look with love upon
the golden haired one’s
head, dear Persephone
the goddess’ only love

Dear Persephone
Who the goddess lived
and died for
Dear Persephone
Who the goddess loved
and breathed for

When I was raped
I was at home
in the kitchen
in the living room
in the bed

When I was raped
and Demeter saw
it was because
Demeter was the goddess
raping me
I was Demeter’s other daughter

~ Kate

My Poetry

A Death In Sparta


born of Sparta
survival would not
have been for me,
crippled, I would
have been thrown
over the cliff
or left in a basket
to feed the wildlife

the generous
rights of women
never would have
been mine,
only born healthy
or a royal
would breath
have been my right,
but I am no royal

while in the womb
the cord,
around my limbs,
did twine; as I grew,
impeding my growth
my arms, fingers, legs
compressed and contracted
emerged looking crippled
at my birth

perhaps in Sparta
there would be no doctors
to counsel
time and patience
to see how my
tender little body
would respond
for within days
I emerged
from my protective cocoon

though perhaps in Sparta,
with its emphasis
on creating
the next generation
of warriors and breeders,
perhaps even my mother,
would have chosen to nurture
my growing self within her,
instead of trying to beat
me to death,
perhaps the life giving cord
would not have bound
around me
without my struggles
to escape her killing fists.

~ Kate