Prep me for surgery.
I don’t know what’s happening.
This is an emergency.
A medical mystery.
Here’s my consent in writing.
My heart is gone, picked up and left.
Find me a new one.
Then sew it in my chest.

I am the Tin Man.
Colored hearts on my sleeve.
Drinking from an oil can.
Empty as can be.
With a map of misguided direction.
And the burning of my isolation.
I am the Tin Man.
Broken like you see.

I no longer have the heart to love.
Of course you refused and denied.
Wanting the things I couldn’t give.
You kicked me to the curbside.
How sad it must be.
Being the name no one will miss.
But I’ll mark you down on my list.
Even if it hurts to reminisce.

My joints are rusted through.
The hinges scream and grind.
Damage was all we really knew.
Tearing through body and mind.
The things that were stolen.
We now must replace.
At the bottom of the stairs.
And in the lines we erased.

Put me back together.
Give me back my skin.
I’d rather die from a broken heart.
Than live as a piece of tin.
Send a pulse to the vein.
Tune the drum at my core.
I am not an empty frame.
The Tin Man is no more.

A baby screams
above the drone
& strange odors circulate,
clicking & snapping,
a nervous laugh
here and there
a dry cough
& the catching of words,
parts of phrases
is all you can hear
from Seat 9A
above the engine.

serrated blame
pressed down against skim
Shame
thought I caught glimpse
of me
as blame angled in

The hunt for something realer

took a walk up the street
just to see if I could still feel

my molecules
Squirm shift like the seraphim
to become to become
but all I transcend is
day into knifed

so now I grip a different angel
cold aloof primal
uncompromising wing
Slips in

Rubies glistening
'neath light of the moon
as rabbits feast
and children sleep
'midst dreams
of a strawberry morning.

r ~ 6/13/14

Listen to the wind screaming
And the air howling
The thunder rolling
Lightening illuminating the black skies
You will hear the storm
And remember me;
Think  
She wanted storms

I had a father,
he was a kind man.
I'm not the kind of man
he was.

I try hard,
sometimes I fail.
I still look for him
in the mirror.

He fought two wars;
didn't make him strong.
He did that on his own;
he fought his own wars.

Looking back
now that he's gone,
I have to stop and wonder
what was in the water.

My old man
was the kind of man
that someday I hope to see
in the mirror.

r ~ 6/14/14

Every time I look into
the brilliant blue sky
I think of her eyes.

And when the sky is black,
I see her hair,
flowing
beyond compare.

The bubbling brook
reminds me of how
she shook
when I held her
in my arms.

Her taste
is like strawberry.

You stupid little ****,
with all your lack of wit.
I was deceived.
I can't believe
I let you lick my ***.