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The following writings are taken from the out-of-print book "Prose and
Cons" which was edited by Frank Earl Andrews. It was published by
Pyramid Books in 1976.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
P.K. (A While Ago)
By Patricia Krenwinkel
Eyes
double-lidded
round
disappearing whenever
a broad smile is formed.
Crowsfeet then
deepening with the seasons
grey
when wearing black
blue when accompanied by denims
a flick of green
in teh forest.
Hunched shoulders
despite years of
"stand up straight"
scoldings from her mother.
Stolid steps
thick legs
lithe arms
stubby nails
once bitten on a daily basis
yet even when not nibbled upon
they fail to grow past the fingertips.
Feet
a huge success at obtaining callouses
that split
bleed
during the barefoot summer months.
Toes
incredibly liberated
each one moving of it's own volition
each on its own preferred course.
Daydreams
the usual worn-out
fantasies of love
Sir Lancelots.
Always finds older men
the most attractive
feeling comfortable
in their judgements.
Inadequate
to the latest styles
the newest crazes.
At ease
in conservative
wallpaper prints.
Daring on occasion
polish to fake fingernails
flashing a Virginia Slim
(coming a long way, baby)
that matches a violet
or hot pink outfit.
Embarrased at wolf whistles
or emphatic compliments
delivered by better looking
but superficial people.
Will then take giant strides
to circle the "mode block"
where a return to faded jeans
armor-proofs
against pseudoism.
Indifferent
to cities.
Open to Yosemite
with a heart that pumps
a medley
to the rhythm of life.
A missionary for ecology
horny toads
gopher snakes
an empty lot
soon to be the site of a new housing project
a block of massive concrete
whose annual erosion
will not permit
the return of scuffed knees
running fancies
venturous
dangerous
expeditions into the unknown holes and nests.
Tends toward negative thoughts
butts
candy-wrappers
playing havoc with the beach sand.
An aide to needy squirrels
running to inform them
of her "Alice In Wonderland" scheme
but after the birds
take frightened flight
after the squirrels
scurry for scary cover
she will pull a weed
and say fffffffuuuuuccccckkkkkIT!
Adores
listening to the intellectuals
angry that continued schooling
didn't broaden her perspective
quickly enough.
Sulks
in gloomy memories
suppressing meaningful things
she wants to say.
When finally given the soap box
cannot alter a stubborn opinion
even if later
she will concede to herself
that she was wrong.
Unafraid of diverse opinions
opposites
though angered because
she was unable to size up
that another could see her flaws.
When she is certain
that new acquaintances
will never be seen again
she will pull from her imagination
flowering up an event
to hide a mundane life.
Feels extremely capable
of doing anything
that any other human could do
but usually has to prepare
with a "go get um"
before moving forward.
Questioning
never afraid to ask
even the most direct questions
often times ones
that cannot be answered.
Immediately sorry
for placing one
in such a vulnerable position
eventually realizing
however
that the other's unassurance
brings a tiny satisfaction
a knowingness
that even kings and queens
have bitten their toenails
sucked thumbs
breathed air
wondered who they really were.
Sings loudly
in a bath
or shower
lathering in dreams
of Irving Berlin
Caruso
complimenting her vocal discharges.
After a thundering accolade
from the packed audience at Carnegie Hall
she becomes ecstatic
and encores with five more rounds
of row row row your boat.
Afraid
of being forgotten
during
after
life.
Willing to bluff it off
as unsensitive souls
approach a real woman.
Will walk casually
into a rest room
huddle in a corner
contemplate suicide
straighten her pants
rub cold water on her face
then return slowly to the world
smiling an excuse
for having taken
an excessive amount of time
to defecate.
Loving father
always being his daughter.
Loving mother
always being her daughter.
Yet
desperately wanting to be her own personality
free of reflective impressions
automatically accepted
unthoughtfully absorbed
by the human conditions
of a family structure
a universally appropriate monogomistic relationship
that forms the marriage institution
whose inevitable grand end
is divorce.
Finally alone
with herself
she will sit puppy-eyed
thinking it might be better
were she in a mental facility
building blocks
hugging stuffed teddy-bears.
She cries
at the thought of
having had to grow up.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I Knew You Were Coming
By Patricia Krenwinkel
I knew you were coming into my life
faith you might say.
During the youthful years
I sat on the sink facing the mirror
with the bathroom door locked
of course
just to stare.
Baby pudgy fleshed faced
gazing at the one in the glass
wondering which side of the reflector
the real me was on.
I always asked
"who am I"
but just the wide eyes and mused smile responded
as I jumped down
forgetting till another day
because the team was waiting
in the street
baseball and laughter.
I believe I was once a child
a formed and kneaded soul
made in the likeness of a million
zillion before me
small people placed in the position
of having to ask about life
but having asked are
referred to a new doll for the answers.
I, like all children,
had a new bike each year
and at home tv made me fall in love
with ever-new dreams
delivered by campbell soup cans
and ajax cleanser.
We grew thru the years
same schools
same christmas stocking stuffers
same easter basket fillers.
We stuck together out of fear
afraid tho we never spoke of it
exchanging shallow and superficial items
new dance steps
praising loud singers
debating philosophies that were soggy
with years of littered recycling.
We were killing each other
and after each "goodnight" I dreaded
making plans for tomorrow
because each time I looked further than the instant
there were always the same meaningless encounters.
I begged-friendless.
Oh, 'friends' we called ourselves
and we spent hours searching for new
exciting ways to say nothings to one another
ways to demean each other
while pulling out bottles of red mountain
over a barbecue
toasting with a cheer
"to us."
I was dying
and each corner of my apartment
my cage
was held together by a check
banked at a branch of america
giving me the convenience
of a new "twinkie" added to my shelf
next to the beans and tortillas
sometimes eggs
occasionally highlighted by a company picnic
which any respected corporation
offers its employees and their families
a policy to flirt
with the young upcoming presidents
an office to which everyone aspired.
Zero dollars a month
to park my car
spend a few hours on a crowded freeway
that always led home.
Awaiting there
the same mirror
the same sink
patiently viewing revlon's best
and the same face
asking questions.
Cold beach sand
a block from my apartment.
The nearer the water
the louder I spoke
free from others hearing
listening
as I paced restlessly
cursing into the infinite sea
which resounded and perpetually beat
as my own heart.
I struck at gawd
for his unnatural eden
which my parents had thrust me into
and reared me to expect
while at the same time forcing me to escape
my secluded neighborhood.
My supplications were engraved
atop the gray matter
under my skull
where I heard repetition
form the grooves deep
deep as my disillusioned self.
The ocean only angered me
because it answered my mind queries
in rattling jargon and pre-recorded ramblings
forcing me to punch a way through
its foreign words
alien yes
yet ceaseless with the responses
I knew you were coming into my life
faith you might say.
My need for you aligned
unnoticed with the patterns of our being.
Perhaps it was the evening quite
that bent its ear
to my conscious prayer.
Away from mom and dad
away from the reflected face
a little older
a little thinner
but not really changed.
Your apartment
and a salute to days forecast for the future
perhaps a successful flight from bleakness.
"Hi" as an introduction
flooded rivers of thought
spilled into a different ocean
a new sea.
You became my walks
my talks alone
not replying as the tides
rather as a rain spilled down
from over the peak of my head
into my eyes
and then
my heart.
You bathed me
in a meeting of longing
but I didn't know how to act.
How does one respond
when a empty void becomes engulfed
by an intangible solid?
I fumbled
but the fumbling placed my in your notice
and your response moved stability within me
brought out familiarity
which had previously only been shared with self.
You reached behind the starving affection
called slowly
never prodding or coaxing.
I was eased to see
feeling safe as I fled the harmful quietude
I had shrouded myself in
for a swim in you.
I was bound tight
awkward
pleading.
It was written into you
and there was no need to speak.
We left
walked dimly lit streets a while
understanding
then under my roof
which would only shelter
my body for a day or two more.
Touch
your hands were warm against me
and I wanted you to love me.
I wanted thoughts turned into motion
I wanted to run
stand
fight
surrender.
I wanted to dispel perversions
customs
mores
multitudes of programmed sensations
that I felt should be mine
to accept or reject.
Perhaps a performance
make a play of it.
be as the romantic fictional thoughts
that had bent my confusion into dreams
hopes that might lay themselves clean.
You knew and I
embarrassed
lay trembling
crying in your lap.
You ran your fingers through my hair
asking simply "do you want to make love?"
It was mysteriously quite
and I felt certain you had heard
the rambling inhibitions
making their transitions within me.
You lifted my face with your hands
kissed my lips and brought forth
a calm "yes."
Rigid at first
but your hands began a dance
pouring heat thru me with your fingertips
removing a blouse
the remaining garbs
placing them at the foot of my bed.
Then you were bare
any my eyes crossed over you swiftly.
Adonis?
Apollo?
Mars?
No
Not even Paul Newman.
None of these were you
for you were REAL.
Your hair lay upon my neck
and from there you moved your tongue to my breasts
then rested your face
and listened to my heart beat
speeding to the summons of my nerve-ends.
You penetrated
not painfully
moreso letting it happen.
The blankets beneath me
previous holders of my muffled tears
now held our meeting.
I reached to assist
but with light pressure
you told me this was to be your motion.
Need was not a part
nor physical.
Holding to you
I gave up to experience.
I knew you were coming into my life
faith you might say.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Retrospect
By Patricia Krenwinkel
City lights flicker
green
and
red.
I wander into neon imagery
and
the pavement clicks
beneath the heels of my shoes.
Stoney faces appear
and
disappear through doorways
where
frightened laughter rises
from
liqueur minds
evolving ecology into sex.
I am alone
companion only to the night
and
City lights flicker
green
and
red.
Whirlpools of tarnished fluorescent automobiles
glide under streetlamp beams
a speeding
screeching race
to the stop signs.
A newspaper stand heralds
higher taxes
political scandals
deaths
a golf game
and
City lights flicker
greed
and
red.
Glassy stares
of drooling window-shoppers
press against
looking-glass candy stores
Billboards auction
a competition drive
to the desparate desires
of luxury seekers.
I quicken my step.
A lost penny
confronts me
on the sidewalk.
Picking it up
I toss it
over my shoulder
and
make a wish
for world peace.
City lights flicker
green
and
red
and
I walk on.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Frisco and the Child
By Patricia Krenwinkel
Fog chills past any garment
penetrates
even insulated long johns.
Driving
vision is bleak
the hills become
an amusement park roller-coaster.
You don't know when you hit the top
only the bottom
Haight Street.
Walking
toes begin to ache
nose and ears
start feeling frostbitten.
Numerous faceless colors
leap from the mist
appearing
disappearing
moving snakelike
always evident
in
around
old concrete structures.
Love posters
staring from third eyes
hissing.
Nearby market places
joints on corners
puffing flowers
hash
grass
pipe smokers
coke sniffers
while the hypos
deliver their cunning so hard
you give a peso to their next fix
just to get them away.
Crash pads
incense and billowing tapestry
chimes and feathers
gaudy dance hall swingers
unwashed cowhands
spitting out slogans
impurities
while digesting a Big Mac.
Talk of freedoms
orating God
selling the devil
on prime time
sponsored by disillusioned seekers
floundering in parking lots.
Rip offs
run offs
jump offs
off the pigs.
The mass moves in daylight
which is a smokey gloom
of the growing end
near the conclusion
of the last chapter.
Blood is drawn
from any unable to move
out into space.
Reassurances of peace
as bodies are drug away
drugged
saved from being a drag
after O.D.'ing the night before.
Golden Gate Park
crowds mingling
in tempos
of the park tunes.
Musicians stationed under trees
suck in others
by playing haunting flutes
conga drums
that beat a mind into silence.
Dancing figures
in silks
gabardines
denim
cotton
move sporadically
jumping
pumping
innocent sexual
uninhibited grace
parading dreams
upon the grassy mounds.
Senses enriched
the sun absorbed
into our eyes.
Clothes a nuisance
hiding the sameness.
The less we can get away with
the better.
We are the ones
outcasts of mores
built on isolation
together
speaking in acid
speed
peyote
sunshine
dopey crystal hazes.
Frolicking
with old childhood games
interweaving it
into the oneness of us all.
Hide and seek
amongst the knolls
laughing merry
spinning like a carousel
greetings neighbors
in heart
knowing we are open
feeling glad
for the wings.
Frisco and the child.
The world and me.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Him
By Patricia Krenwinkel
Him...
Strumming
finger licking strings
that hum to a scream
the beat
ballad to a flamingo
home spun to sting.
To listen intently is a game
played around
your own mind's reasoning.
Nose a bit flattened at the tip
where it gives the smallest hint
of being broad
before streamlining down
into an upper lip.
His eyes ever constant
facial muscles moving
rapidly changing relatable expressions
but the eyes remain as a doe
friendly
aloof
reaching to the other side
making full circle around you.
Menacing glares when you step too close
without being invited.
Piercing and loving
you know he has seen
but is looking beyond you
and when he finally focuses
to a single sharp perspective
he pops a pimple upon your face.
Voice deep and calm
within the turbulence
of changing rhythms
repeating words
dangling as apples on a tree
prepared to fall
then caught like a fly ball
to left field.
You have the impression
you are playing with a dealer
whose deck is full.
You invite his words
while he meets your plays
and you continually ask for another card.
When he loses
he always comes out winner.
Defeat unspoken
in a past of unspeakables
understood
deciphered
when his eyes disappear.
Considering 28 years in walled cities
is unintelligable
to a coed cheerleader
of football reality.
Quick
tense
an almost detached stance
to his body.
He laughs when he knows you like him
and his mouth of thin lips
protrudes sexily
into a wide
shallow opening.
Relax and laugh
pat you on your back
walk away grinning.
Motion
hands forever mobile
if not on another
on his guitar
in his pockets
fumbling with a penny
a rock
a pen knife
flipping a deck of cards
like a mississippi riverboat gambler.
Always with dancing fingers
with a cig
running from and over the thumb
thru the forefinger
to the next and return
finally hiding it in a cupped hand
tho there is no wind.
Feet slightly haired
toes that clasp the dirt
like a friend
tho he usually wears shoes.
Top to top he walks
making the world his own
never refusing the day or night
his presence.
Moves with a clip
a shuffle
can cover an area of two feet
and make it into an acre.
Ballet steps
pushing sweat from his ducts
up
to be worn as the taste of life.
Works for change
but never repeats
except in a song
and even there
the music continues to change.
Makes ideas easy
for someone else to incorporate.
Stands before a mirror
practices as a comedian
on the grammar of muscles
and emotions.
Handles scenes
but exits when no one wants to talk.
Can make a show that will stun.
Sincere in fucking
controls your person
making sure you know
you have received a gift
and you know you have.
Fierce
never perverse
yet you wonder
if he even enjoyed you.
Finishes by lighting a cig
putting on his pants
walking away.
Never a thought about spending
$50 on a 1 lb. bag of sugar
nor a complaint about wanting salt.
Yet push
and he will push harder.
Impatient
full of drive
spanned by pressure
which he draws from
uses to this own advantage.
Sizes up a condition
how to move a mountain.
Finds the solution
buys a candy bar instead.
Man of a million faces
but always those eyes
which cause you to think.
He then tells you not to
"as you might get caught
unconsciously analyzing
a situation."
Him...
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Of Love
By Patricia Krenwinkel
i watched your eyelids gently
falling as i lay beside you,
and beneath your chin, my head
rested listening to you beard
grow...
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Waiting Rainbow
By Patricia Krenwinkel
Rainbows wait
right around the bend
with patience mending
the many color hues
will declare our dreams
soon.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Cold from Cold
By Patricia Krenwinkel
Pregnant sky
robed in silvery grays
from departed blues.
I walk
in sweatered body
warm to your solid cold.
Nose and cheeks
tight with frosted paleness
breathy smoke rings
rise to transparent light
and coat of winter
gives birth.
Walking thru forest pine
scented of fallen cone
strong limbs stoic
to the lacework adorning.
You are the first
to be dressed
of Natures' tatting
beneath you
my eyes strain
to see your peaks.
Swimming clouds of white
surround me.
I extend my tongue
to taste the freshness
of heaven and
a snowflake melts
into my eyebrow.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Self
By Patricia Krenwinkel
A game maze of networks
tears and laughter
joys and sorrows
The heart of love
stirring the cauldron
of
flames
where only the insane can reign
brain train to be free
making
it
be
what I know
as
I
fly thru the whole
Looking thru my eyes
cigarettes and candy
it's all a jive
Thoughts locked in perversion
madness of words
strangling the necks of innocents
growing again
into reflected perversions
All for one to stay alive
I
play
the
game
to
have something to do
In
me
is
what I see and do
My child
The earth run wild
Mother of Life and Warmth
let
me
come again to your bosom
and
drink your sweet milk
let
me
feel your loving arms around me
only
to
see I am thee
World
lost in despair
the nectar flows
to thoughts
to bare
The Son of Sons
Lord of Light
in flight free
doves take the
sky
in winds soaring
Living womb
birth and earth's
giving and returning
in circles of infinity
everything beginning and
ending together
forever wrapped in clocks
where time is hours
as if there were a meter of life
in living eternity
Freedom of minds' light
I
come
and
go
into rays bursting stars
Sweeping
self clean
I
start again
The Garden
while mighty minds
destroy mighty minds
thinking in their pasts
never to know themselves
locked in shallow grave
made of selfish wanderings
at glorious illusions
running
in fear of enfolding arms
till words fall
dead in the knowing
...knowing is to awake
to the Rising Sun
Into and out I come
not more or less
than it all
grasses and beats
I am God's
power abounding in magick
When all was conceived
in the spinning
abyss of nothingness
and woven patterns
evolution
into
revolution
and from the ashes
open as a child running free
bringing
me
home
The earth moves again
naked
eyes of eyes
whirlpools of dreams
reflecting
sunny lizardly creatures awakening
sandy mountains glorious stand
to
the thousands of years
of
Love's Heart
Being as it were and IS
a mini spark
in
my minds' eye
...me...
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Fall In
By Patricia Krenwinkel
within the confines of four walls. . . i pace. . . six steps
from bed to door. . . turn. . . six steps from door to bed
. . . six paces. . . one. . . two. . . three. . . four. . .
five . . . six . . . my feet keep the rhythm . . . my eyes
scour the brick. . . come to rest upon a spider. . . intri-
cate recision in a corner. . . she adds dimension to my
domain. . . six steps recapture my attention. . . one. . .
two. . . three. . . four. . . five. . . six. . . an albert
einstein postage stamp glares at me. . . from a letter lying
on my table... his scowl is ridiculous so i wink at the pa-
per face. . . advancing. . . one. . . two. . . three. . .
four. . . five. . . six. . . a word from within my mind is
formed. . . bites into raw though. . . justice. . . just-ice
... just-us. . . just-is. . . is. . . is. . . just ain't...
the pace. . . one. . . two. . . three. . . body demands
interrupt. . . reposing upon the throne i ponder the plight
of any alligators or goldfish living inside the sewage lines
. . . a giggle. . . thinking perhaps at this very moment
. . . a reptile could be in the depths of the wet. . . con-
templating my fundament. . . i push the button. . . noti-
fying the ocean it can recapture itself. . . to the bubbling
rush i harmonize with three stanzas of gawd bliss ameri-
maid. . . again. . . one. . . two. . . three. . . four
. . . five. . . six. . . i am released from my cube king-
dom. . . to the exercise compound. . . meeting a friend
. . . we inspect each other. . . with empathetic eyes. . .
more pacing. . . one hundred steps defines the area. . .
walking on the inside brings the accounting to ninety. . .
together we converse on unborn dreams. . . sharing the
touch of hands. . . while we stroll. . . returning to my
diced container. . . i tighten my stride. . . one. . . two
... three. . . four. . . five. . . six. . . a kerneled ques-
tion pops out of the popcorn machine. . . were i outside
my cell for more than four hours would i grow homesick
. . . unrestrained laughter breaks my pace. . . i fall in
hysterical disarray. . . upon the cot. . . sometime later
. . . burnt out mirth signals the call. . . to fall in. . .
pick up the pace. . . one. . . two. . . three. . . four
... five. . . six. . . six steps from door to bed. . . turn
. . . six steps from bed to door. . . i pace. . .
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It's All In
By Patricia Krenwinkel
Four walls and cold halls
the game
stripped bare
and who's there...
Do I have to call your name?
I hear calls to guilty minds
disguised
they give up the guillotine
in exchange for the electric chair.
Have they got your head already
rehabilitation
for living your life?
It is the perfect system
piles of files and agents
in numbers to keep the scheme.
We see the degree
that civilization goes
to keep
the power green.
The trick is hate
and caught within the net
never underground
we're picked off one by one.
Striking at one another
another number
or color
the way you part your hair.
Hell, I don't care!
Just watching the show...
The steel billing
(what's your feeling)
Step to the window
admission
out from the law
a ticket from under
have you checked it out
it's a four-star rating.
The curtain draws back
your thought
I say, my soul
what you holding onto
the world
that is inside these halls-walls?
Tier fears:
step-spread
what's up in your ass-hole?
Come on around
and the screws in the machine
hold it down.
How much further can you fall?
The wheel is dealing
and the movie
plays.
Liberals make you a star
and the popcorn
is free.
Strike
fractions gripe
new projectors
film the mind.
Move
on
up
clean
put down.
High-sign the word.
This flick ain't so bad,
letting the villain win... ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
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