you weren’t there
so I went on asking
cards questions
each word a plea
for something else
and in return
each image printed
in monochrome blue
offered an answer
you would have hated,
but each one
sour against my tongue
sounded more honest
than your praise.

sweet exhale... sun-chapped lips sing eagerly of love.
you speak with such pure, blissful blindness.

her cold fingers sculpt carefully the heartbreak... but lost is whose heart makes up the rubble crushed beneath her pointed boot.

the hurt i carry with me is inescapable... the universe seldom graces me with smiles.

"loving" someone like that is straight sin: sacrilegious, like wearing jeans to ash wednesday. she doesn't fit.

your stubbornness is infuriating

kiss the kids good bye,
send them out on
their own find-a-way paths,
merry or otherwise,
dispatched, once and forever,
stamped, franked, posted,
Gebbie delivered,^
the poems born, borne
   are gone

never look back,
once writ and gifted,
they are an only child,
not truly orphaned
   but without parentage

miss'ed every now and then,
see them as a drive-by victims,
hit and run casualties of passing poets,
who notifiy that they saw
"so and so"
and just wanted to
let me know,
   they're ok

but never look back,
they have been disowned,
each,
a natural birth poem,
must learn
the hard way,
to stand on its own,
tested by the cruelest proctor,
   hoary time

this is the way,
the only way,
birth mother and no more,
and this why,
some know me as,
  the poet of the way...

this is my way -
my poems are my
dispatched issue,
sent out themselves alone,
to experience
cell division,
mitosis and meiosis
spawning new poetic tissue,
find their own way of sharing
  their ancestral DNA

I met a fairy
At night that is starry
Telling our story
Like a poetry
It’s so cherry
With a scent so flowery
Now it’s a memory
I kept in my diary

sleep tastes
like milk tea and cinnamon,
wind-cooled
for maybe fifteen minutes
drowning in sugar
so that your tongue is sweet and numb.

I used to wonder
why you slept so long
plaid covers up to your nose
pillow imprinted
with your crown.

now I know
that dawn often tastes bitter
and the remains of the day
sticky like pomegranate rot
when dusk arrives
like a cool drink in summer
I can finally slake
this thirst for something different.

What if:

The trees could talk
All  flowers walk
Cats did dance
Dogs pranced in pants
Fishes gave kisses
Fairies granted wishes
Smiles blew bubbles
Never had troubles
The sun rayed rainbows
Lions were mellow
We all wore halos
Babies sang solos
We spoke in rhymes
Are faces did shine
Monkeys wore polka dots
While doing the foxtrot
Money grew on trees
Chocolate kisses always free
Every morning the sky said hello
We swim or float in lakes of Jello