Mom neatly packing
Leftover rice - down the road
Orphaned ducklings await dinner

the flyswatter hovers  
      hesitating -  
should I play God today?

damp summer night
used ******
in the parking lot

sobbing clouds
storm off
in a fit of pique

hairy patches
below painted toes
am I less of a woman now?

Disjointed thoughts writhe
Like the cut worms from my sixth
Grade science project

the sun drops
through the hourglass
drip... drip... drip...

Cow grazing
Matter-of-factly
- unapologetic existence

the languid bee
sulks on parking lot weeds
soon we all will rest

strip mall church
selling rosaries
and hope

the swatted fly bursts
      like the Big Bang
I am God

The blind old dog keeps watch
On those same porch steps
- Lucky squirrels scurry past

****** death
- The fly swatted
by the cow’s
dung-tipped tail

lonely morning tea
          sorrow in the sachet's  sigh
as the clock turns three

Summer grass
Rushing towards the sky
Disregard for itchy ankles

the moon hangs at half mast
mourns the passing of the day
-  another star burns out

chalk faded
         from the sidewalks
the kids are grown now

I sink my teeth
Into cotton candy clouds
Lick the sweet crystals of sunset
Off my fingertips

Lips dusted with light
I savor this day

beach seagulls
chasing one other
the sunset follows

5pm
hostile rain
strikes my cheeks

crimps  my pressed
white collar
in icy fists

shakes my shoulders
like a soggy ***
of singles at Venus

with the violence
of all-consuming
yesterdays
  
drips down my ear
with the seduction
and precision
of a diamond blade

licks,
moans,
thunderously shouts
  
     "WAKE UP"

Wet nose twitching
Against summer air
Interpreting the breeze

In her eyes
A profound understanding

Of June

My mind is blank
yet reeling
like a skipping record
I choke
and turn in place

It’s the static
In the airwaves
A frequency suspended
In purgatory

Between smooth jazz
And traffic reports

It tingles on the tips of my fingers
As they grip the steering wheel

I turn the dial
And land on that chaotic hymn

both relentless yet irresolute
like the cars in rush hour’s panicked standstill

I revel in the cacophony
For I am the static
In the airwaves
A frequency suspended
In purgatory

Tired but awake,
Oh Ginsberg and Kerouac -
I am beat

never thought I’d go out this way
bursting colors turn to gray
belly up in a pet smart display

sidewalk ants
faire la bise
- celebrate spilt soda

Like rice and beans
On U.S soil - mis idiomas
Se mezclan

Unleash my demons -
Animalistic fiends who
Prey on purity

From daydream to daydream
My thoughts skip on the surface
of consciousness

Seems as though I'm always falling
short,
back,
or behind

With eyes the embers
Of wildfires
She approaches
Igniting the night
With raw curiosity

I'm the shell
rocking in place
suspended in the surf
as the waves come and go
-- and trust me, they always go --
weathered by the sea's
rhythmic betrayal
with the wave's triumphant
and lustful crash
followed by its
sorrowful retreat  
-- a song as old
as the tides themselves
-- heartbreak

I don't know if it's
you or the Heineken but
My heart's on fire

there are countless stories
tucked in the creases of your skin -
read to me

Drunken clouds stumble
Across the sky ******* on
Hope of sun in spring

My chiropractor
And therapist agree -
I’m out of alignment

The warmth of fresh clothes
from the dryer hugs me
like you used to, Mama

You were my North Star -
With your light now gone
How will I find my way home?

The clock  ticks
ticks
ticks

Pounds on the inside
Of my skull -

Need an aspirin

Jimmy Buffet crackles, harmonizing
With undertones of desperation
- “Please continue to hold”

Though I know I’m just
Pleading with my palms -
I say a prayer anyway

Hurry up and kiss me -
Our love’s fleeting like snow
On the street we met

Naked and raw  
I bear my soul to the sea
Freed from a shell outgrown

It pants, tugs, strains, yearns
Wrestles with its collar
Tags clink and chime
Songs of persistence

Orchids plie in fifth position following the cadence of spring

I look down at the buildings below
Twinkling with celestial grace
And map the constellations
Of journeys to be

They shut down
the world
around me
but I’m still sublime
because I exist entirely
inside of my mind

the streets are quiet
the world is still
i finally notice
the birds chirping
on my windowsill

This stupid, *******
good-for-nothing pen is
always running out of --

Hung by their ankles
Coins drip on the floor - pennies
Red as the blood drained