can we have our ball back?

phenomenal woman

pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

i'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size

but when i start to tell them,

the think i'm telling lies.

i say,

it's in the reach of my arms,

the span of my hips,

the stride of my step,

the curl of my lips.

i'm a woman

phenomenally.

phenomenal woman,

that's me.

i walk into a room

just as cool as you please,

and to a man,

the fellows stand or

fall down on their knees.

then they swarm around me,

a hive of honey bees.

i say,

it's the fire in my eyes,

and the flash of my teeth,

the swing of my waist,

and the joy in my feet.

i'm a woman

phenomenally.

phenomenal woman,

that's me.

men themselves have wondered

what they see in me.

they try so much

but they can't touch

my inner mystery.

when i try to show them,

they say they still can't see.

i say,

it's in the arch of my back,

the sun of my smile,

the ride of my breasts,

the grace of my style.

i'm a woman

phenomenally.

phenomenal woman,

that's me.

now you understand

just why my head's not bowed.

i don't shout or jump about

or have to talk real loud.

when you see me passing,

it ought to make you proud.

i say,

it's in the click of my heels,

the bend of my hair,

the palm of my hand,

the need for my care.

'cause i'm a woman

phenomenally.

phenomenal woman,

that's me.

-maya angelou

on to danville

one two three

late night whisper

conversations over

a wine glass sitting

at my feet and one

two three cigarettes

talking to myself i

don't have roommates

anymore they were

always on the porch

when i got home

we'd sit and talk and

chain smoke and say

things like how was

your day what did

you do how was work

then we'd talk about

our boyfriends and

how they were being

dumb or how they

were sweet they'd

tell me about their

classes and their

professors who

frustrate them or

administrators who

infuriate them or

their mentors who

love them i would

tell them about my

managers who

were mean or co

workers who were

funny or customers

who were rude and

we would vent and

laugh we could

talk we could talk

all night if we wanted

until one of us couldn't

stop yawning and

someone would say

i have to get up

early goodnight

goodnight goodnight

that's how it always

was when i had

roommates now i

come home and dad

always has a glass of

wine for me and when

everyone goes to bed

just sometimes i have

one two three cig

arettes and whisper

to myself.

mojo

voici le tramp

the soft animal of your body

you do not have to be good.

you do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert,

repenting.

you only have to let the soft animal

of your body love what it loves.

tell me about despair, yours

and i will tell you mine.

-mary oliver, wild geese

via pocket full of posies