My body is not
a wonderland.

there is nothing
sultry about
A Cold.

'Come hither' with a
red nose?
Oh Baby...

Commentary on
Modern Music,
nearly halted by
an almost snot rocket...
Authority tempered
with a rasp.

"Did you know you could
DIE if you hold in a sneeze?"
9 year old anecdotal prophet's
looming outline, right up close to
my face.

messy  half-dreams under the
futile winter-hat Reality Shield in the
backseat of  Homeward bound
Economy Wheel Gathering.

**** Man Voice to
telemarketers.

No sir, that's Mrs. White.

Most days they toss me rocks.
I open the door and they
show me The Desert.

chairs litter the stage
and I carefully go
pulling the thorns off each
one of my cacti.

'drum sticks for you.'
'did you need a pick?'
'try that sentence again...
without that word...'

Door slam. Louder than the drums.

And during that time,
I am aware of the danger.
But it's not the kind you know in the
***** of a blade against your neck...
It quivers on the surface of
my reptilian brain
like a polluting film.

I go on blithely.
dancing on the concrete
jiving for education
slurs rolling off of
me like rain.

it's any day, in the midst
of the early morning car ride.
tears slipping onto my scarf,
down, into the lip of my traveling mug,
that it comes out to
my Father.

"Sometimes I hate this job...
but then they talk a bout love songs."

it's professional roulette
from day to day-
whether this afternoon
the trapped souls
will hand me coal
or diamonds.

Joe.
Part of my past.
Part of my lust.
Part of my blood,
part of my heart.
Once a shadow t'at consoled my woes,
shrieks, and nightly throes.
A charm my ****** soul adored;
as thou walked in across th' door.

O Joe, my sweet lover by th' moonlight;
how I drift'd past thee t'at very first night!
Thy smile as scarce as th' pond'ring evening
As t'ose humorous wobbly leaves outsideth
span 'emselves around,
shaking all over with tremendous salutations-
and hark closely-how 'eir moorish souls engulfed in excitement,
uponst seeing th' floods of our passion-yes, my love!
But battered soon t'ey wert, yes, t'ey wert-indeed,
whenst my colours but faded away,
as into t'is outlandish world 'twas to sway-
and thus part with thee, querida!
How all t'at congregating laughter yonder
wasth but scornfully tossed apart, in th' course of one
languorous shiver
into minuscule frowns and ash-like smithereens
upon t'at realisation-ah, t'at night, t'at very night!
And how my heart darkened!
Flown into despair my peace was,
as our innocent shimmers of young love was torn
and recoiled from th' newborn bastion of future union-
at which our hearts had so unknowingly, and inanely, gladdened.

O Joe! But look, look once more at our intertwined hands!
And th' flesh, robust flesh of our fingers
which art so created for each ot'her-look how t'ey fit, so cruelly fit-
and ah, how we should now be gazing so passionately at one anot'er
meanwhilst our bodies so genuinely embraced within each ot'her's arms,
on our dear whitewashed eiderdown, querida-
just like in th' preceding night frolic of mine!
How we sat on t'at pink long bench yonder-on top of th' flowing river,
with t'ose silvery rocks, and searing ripples
jutting out beneath us,
me in my best frock, and thee in thy grey suit-
whilst th' wrens sang and flew 'bout 'eir partners and flirt'd-
and upon th' sight of wishful dusk, thy kiss then I tasted-
how sweet 'twas as berry fruit!
And as th' surly winter greet'd-our love'd still remain childish
and grateful,
just like th' panoramic view out of yon windows-
nursed and wooed by th' mountains afar-night and day,
ye' plump and girlish in its own way
but never, never feels sad-in its own life, merry and gay.

Blessed be thy soul, Joe querida!
How in t'is lil' den of my abode
I shall but always remember thee;
a painting so dearly cherished in my days-
and so is its well of stories and hearty murmurs of consolation
to all my greatness and solitary imagination.
How illustrious thou art-as once, my love, and ah, just a swerve
of t'is memory of thee
is but to be keenly celebrated
by my excited heart-yes, querida, as thy remembrance is no other
than a whisper of plain fondness-t'at imbues my maternal love and soul
with th' holiest charm and sanctity a woman canst yearn for!
Show me th' way, dears't friend! Dwell inside me-be my torch, guidance, and
guardian light-so I canst always stay with thee-
as we both striveth t'wards destiny.

Walking by the sea at midnight,
the waves are crashing up a storm.
I take your hand and we step out.
The surface of the water is cool
and it swells as we walk atop the breaks,
following the waves back to the distant
horizon filled with bone-white stars.
Sharp melodies of wintry winds blow,
make our faces bright with cold as we go
above the seas, below the spangled skies,
together, side by side, just you and me.

We never turn or look back to see
the distant sandy shores where it began
with the seasons of summer and autumn,
the friendship on fire that sparked within
but we walk on, dancing along the top
of the gently stirring ocean’s brim.
The storm is long gone, the water settles
into a murky grey-blue but mostly green
brilliant, sparkling deep color that just
perfectly matches the shade of your eyes
why can’t I stop thinking about your eyes?
I walk with you for hours until we’re lost
in the sea together and the clouds begin
to light up and the cold of the night fades.
The sun shatters the stillness with its loud
triumphant rays for us, just you and me.

In the misty new light of day we see
a small wooden boat floating up ahead.
We climb in, find paddles, and begin to row
and row and row and never tire
until we hear a sound, faint at first
then rushing and rushing, faster and louder
and as the fog clears we see a waterfall
sky-blue and streaming, tall enough to ****.
You turn around and set down your paddles
and take my face in your hands and then
you kiss me and nothing else matters and
no one can see us and it’s strange and new
and thoughts are storming through my mind
but I push them away and give you
my heart, my word, my everything, and
you pull back and give me that smile
the smile I love, more than anything.
When we’re at the edge, for one eternal moment,
it’s just your eyes and mine; just you and me.

in the quiet
I’ll remember
a hundred lifetimes
with you

fallen cherry blossoms
and my breath
stolen like summer

the forever bereft
fantasy
forged and fraught

beneath fingertips
of ecstacy;
lips
of sorrow

the truth of hearts
running nowhere
but here

the shadow
of your voice
slipping like rain

the sound
of your feet
in the wet distance

and something of
your ample body
and wide embrace
lingering like a nebulous
of violent/violet dream

across the broken/blue
horizon of my soul