to live. I've the sun in
the mornin, the soft blades
of grass sprinkled wet
with dew. The jay's on the wire

in their blue and white attire
and the chipmunks playing peek-
a-boo. The clouds roll in like candlepins
down on a strike.  But they're just

a tyke that needs to be sent
to his room. No more drama, I can
walk around in my pajamas till
noon. Dance in the light of the full

moon. Not wearing a thing
‘cept rosehip perfume. Just the three of us
flying high in the marmalade sky -
me, myself, and I.

I told myself I did. I convinced
myself there was no else. I came running
home to you every day, eager to take
your pleasure in, drowning in intoxicating

sin. I was faithful only to you. I couldn’t
resist you on my lips. You made me woozy. I
forgot everything, the troubles of my day
would slowly melt away. But this lustiness has

cost me. I don’t like being this needy. I knew
deep down you were bad for me. You showed
my body no respect. Worse than that, you made
me forget. So, I decided to cut you out. Good riddance,
dear ***** - you lout!

I make them up as
I go along. I bend the ones that
don’t work for me. I seldom edit the
the manuscripts. I like to

improvise and I don’t take
tips. I’m hard to work with. So,
I work alone. That way no one
triggers me. I like my men as my coffee –

strong. I like my poetry as my food –
hot and spicy
don’t play nice with me
I’ll drink you under the table –
and ******* there too! In fact

I’ll ******* in a haystack, on
the hood of your Corvette –
in the mud we’ll wrestle merrily ‘til we
smell like dung and cigarettes

and just for fun we’ll run naked in the rain
washing the cares out of our hair with flax
and motor oil and laugh at the world

of things to say. Don't have room
inside a page. The page runs
like a river. And flows into the oceans
called, a liver of a life so stalled.

I don't run out
of anger. Long-tailed like a
langur following me from tree
to tree. I can't seem to
catch a breeze.

I don't run out
of sorrow. I've some for
today, but more for tomorrow.

although people like rainbows. The colors
make them smile. It’s a painting in the sky,
a refraction of light that crosses over, one
end to the other. But I’d rather you **** out

all my colors. My desire is to be the clouds that
make the rain.  I want each drop to run down
the length of your arm.  I want to soak your
hair. I want to streak your face.  I want you

to take a shower with me. I want to be the
breeze that teases off your clothes, the little dew
drop that falls beneath your nose. I want to bead
all over your skin, water-drops like lollipops –
and lick each one of them. I want to rain so hard

I make puddles in your yard. I’d love you
to stick your feet in me, have the mud climb up
to your knees. And stick just like a leech. But I never
want to be something you only look at, something

you can’t feel. I know rainbows are pretty. But to me
they’re just not real.

as the clothes in the closet, cramped
and draped in dust, wrinkled,
a colored speck in a container
of sprinkles. Waiting for a

woman to slide the door,
to emit a light into this chasm
of black -
just to pull out  a shirt
to slap on her back. I don't

like lying flat, burned by the bottom
of triangular steaming steel. Steam
billowing above me as a locomotive. No, I'd
like to have my red lacy self displayed

in the Macy's window
for all to ogle and aah. Pay the price
to take me out all night at the Ritz's
bar, compliments hitting me like martinis

in the glow of a new year's eve,
from a pair of blue eyes
called Steve. If I'm stained and
a mess after the party -

I've been ad dressed
and lived hearty!

and then
I do it again
And I say do not
but
I cannot stop
I try
And I do
but
go back to

what I do
because
it’s what I know

I know what I know
and then
I say no
But you can’t
take away
what you know

stretch marks and baggy skin
than a washboard stomach
I created life -
I radiate within

I'd rather
wrinkles than Botox injections
I lived a full life
with home and family
I'm not looking for perfection

I'd rather
spend the day flying a kite
than mopping the floors
polishing the furniture
till everything's bright

I'd rather
listen to the robins and wrens rejoice
the squirrels scurrying over an acorn
than standing, staring in the mirror
hearing my voice
again, and again complaining

in a forest of trees. So, I don’t
have to stand straight and tall.  I can
catch a breeze, hear the nightingale
call. Floating in the air wearing gold

and red. Coasting on the water
in a wavy riverbed. Drifting in
the sun, lying on the grass. Bouncing
as the toads pass out from under

a log. The nutty smell of acorns
and the thunderous paws of dogs. I don’t
cling to the trees anymore. I was slow
to let go. But now I can soar.

The world is full of *******
that can’t handle candor
and have no acceptance of people
question everything
never learn acceptance
never make the time for friends
I’ve had it with catering to them
and their fragile egos
their pettiness of people
their drama and their constant complaints
I’m not a saint –
But still, I wish no one ill will
To me, I’m better off in my own company
Where the only stones thrown
are in the river
and the only ripples
are the circles around the pebble

flower
then to find myself
flapping the hours
in a garden of weeds

I’d rather be a lone
starfish
on the shore
then to explore
in a sea full of mercury

I’d rather be a lone
feather
floating down the river
then stuck together
on eagles back

I’d rather be a lone
cloud
lying across the sky
then a loud
clap of thunder
rumbling nearby

I’d rather be a lone
head
deep in reverie
then lost in dead
men’s memory

in full bloom
than to see it wither, it's petals
fall off, one by one to the ground.
When love dies it goes softly.
It doesn't make a sound.
What's left then but a hardened
stalk amidst the bitter thorns.
When love dies it goes slowly.
If you listen, it forewarns.
I wouldn't want to cut off its fragrance
sweet or crimson passion spread.
When love dies it takes everything.
You bleed the blood it shed.

my wings clipped
than live in a gilded cage
ripped from the outside
if I can’t spread my wings
I can still sing in the open air
catch a breeze
and have the sun’s glare
shining on my face

I’d rather have
my vocal cords cut
than live in silence
as a muzzled mutt
I’ve a lot to say
and if I have
my pen
then I’ve the key
to open every door for me

I’d rather have
my legs chopped off
than lose my head
how is it to run into a friend
I can’t remember
or how I spent last December?

I’d rather have
today
than tomorrow
tomorrow may not arrive
and yesterday I can’t revive

in the afternoon
as sunflowers grow
full bloom. The rose wine
smells like sweet perfume. I string

my head on a cloud. But tie
it down to the ground. So, it doesn't
wander into the neighbor's yard
like a condor flying circles in

the air. And I slump in my plastic  
chair, as the golden sun sinks like
a stone in water. And how I hated
to be her daughter! I pen the lines

that bind me to her in pages
that can be fewer if I abridge. But
the ridge I climbed has no footholds
for my lines. So, I inked them in turpentine.

every evening. Blot out the
pain. The anguish is as deep as
my pock marks. Trying to numb
it down, dumb it down with the

stupid things I do. People looking
on, so easy to criticize. So, I’m no *******
prize. But hell, not bad for fifty-four. I get
paid to take it off. Shove my ***

in their face. Wave my *****
around. But it brings me down that
they don’t read my words, just spend time
checking out my curves. That’s what’s

important to them. So hard, try to
please men. Why do I put out lines for blokes –
they only want you to stroke their
ego, their **** and wash their socks!

I Drink You

hard as steel
you cut my throat
as a razor wheel going down
until the blood collects
in a pool
in my stomach

I drink you
frozen as an ice-cube
until I'm freezer burn
and my tonsils
turn to icicles
and scrape my gizzards
destroy my innards
until they're broth
with foam
on top

I drink you
as a cyanide capsule
because I never want to
give you the satisfaction
that you destroyed
my will to live
reduced me down
to a pill

each day to get out of bed
I pull these mordant thoughts
out of my head
another fitful sleep of anguish I consume
along with my coffee and lonely spoon
I park myself on the cold basement chair
only wearing my bra and underwear
and attempt to tell the world how I am
the despondency I swallow in the morning
with the English muffin
and how nothing is turning out except
the lights when I leave the house

a grenade on them
I thought I was smoken hot
they thought not
they saw me for who I was
an amateur that had not much
that put out everything
and got back nothing
But insults
even so despite it all
I’m doing something
that I love
even if I’m **** on a platter
what does it matter

I made weeping over my watery
grave. Looking in a pool mirror on
the ground, I didn't recognize my
face. I saw an old woman, wrinkled

and disgraced. My honey hair
was tangled as my mind. I let my future
fall far behind. When did warm summer
showers turn to pelting hail? When did

a dancing breeze turn into a raging
gale? When did the blooming lilac trees
scratch my nose making me sneeze?
When did the melodic hum of the robin’s

rupture my eardrums? When did
the horizon drop from my eyes
in plain sight? When did grey clouds
roll in dousing the sun's smiling light?

the pyramids of egypt
swim the seven seas
climb Mount Everest
but I'd not find

a man so soft and kind.
I'd bathe in turquoise waters
on a shore of pink powder sand
among cockleshells and waves

that swell and still not feel myself
without you to hold my hand.
Butterflies, key lime pie and
a cornflower sky don't do a thing

for me if I'm not with you. Morning dew
would look like sweating leaves. And cotton
candy clouds would look as shrouds
on corpses hung on trees.

and polished it with
lace. I placed it on my mantel,
above the hearth, next to
the candles. It sat there

looking at me. So, I asked it
for a cup of tea. We laughed and
we wept. I slept if off that night
high as the luminescent

streetlight. But it swelled up
like a bee sting the next morning. I iced it
with a drink I fixed in my kitchen
sink of ***** and olive brine. Then I

penned this line by line, staring
at the cracks I spackled with juniper
and rose hips from the garden. This time,
hardened in a tortoise shell next to the candles.

the mornings rose no sun
blackness are the days
the moon pulling double duty
everything lies in shade
If
the robin hadn’t wings
he sings but not flies
and walks on tippy toes
rasping songs down low
If
the whales swallow the oceans
the ocean now a desert
of dry shells and bone
If
you go
I’ll not have the sun
covered in shade
I’ll hang down low
and roam a desert grave

like my breath
when I dismount my guy
after ***. I count the beats
of my pulse as I lie and

convulse.  After ******,
it drops down like a
barometer in stormy
weather. Like a dog on her

tether on a hot sunny
day pacing back and
forth in a tight space with
no shade.  I've nowhere

to go. I'm flat out and
laid.  A stiff drink with cheese
stuffed olives makes me rise,
getting out of bed to wipe my eyes.

I feel
as I’m nothing.
I’m a drop of rain.
You don’t notice me
running down
your windowpane.

I feel
sad and lonely
most of the time.
You don’t hear me.
I speak to you
in pantomime

I feel
deep anguish.
I’ve been cut into.
You can’t feel
the jagged blade
going through.

getting up at four in the morning. But
instead of milky the cows I’m milking
these pages, one by one until I’m done. I
collect each word like eggs. And when

they’re ready to hatch I give them the
light of day. Neatly arranging the lines. I
do my best work before the sun even
shines. All is still. It’s too early for the birds

to sing their song. The silence is a river
that moves along. After a long night of sleep
I’m ready to dig in deep. I roll in the mud as
a pig, not afraid to smear the dirt from

the truth. But keeping it simple, not allowing
a ripple to affect my hand. Because I want
the ordinary folk to understand. You won’t need
a lawyer because I’m Tom Sawyer, and my reader’s
are Huckleberry friends.

stewing in my own juice
stuck in the box of unventilated heat
waiting for the buzzer to go off
before someone releases me –
and they only do to cut me up
in one-inch cubes

one minute. In the next breath
I want to push you up against
the wall and kiss you until your tongue

falls off.
I swear I’ll never see you
again. But the very next moment I count

the minutes until when you’ll waltz
right through that door
and steal my heart as you have a hundred

times before. And I’m sure you’ll do it
again, a hundred more. And I’ll tell myself
I can’t take it. But I know better

because I can’t shake this feeling I have
for you. And even though you drive me crazy
I never would want to. Because despite the ups

and downs and ugly rouse of fighting
my life wouldn’t be exciting without you
pressing my buttons. I’m a glutton

for your love, darling. Before you came along
my life was **-hum. Never any fun. It was
staid. So, I prayed that the day would come

when someone would pull me up by
the roots and shake this dirt loose. Because before you
I was a recluse and hadn’t anyone.

putting you on a pedestal
wearing rose-colored glasses
as you rise like a phoenix
from my ashes

I feel stupid
wasting all the years
counting all my tears like a peddler
counts his wares
but couldn’t count on you

I feel stupid
throwing myself at you
making myself crawl
flatten as a paper doll that can’t lift off
the page

I feel stupid
exiguous as a rubber check
a speck on the gilded bed
spread out as eagle wings
clinging as hardened stool
a dusty mule

I feel stupid
sawed off at the knees
fallen as a tree
you holding the axe
I shall not splinter
I'll build a house up from this timber

of winter set in. And I wish the sun
was a soccer ball so I could
kick it higher in the sky, so high
I’d part the clouds with a comb, and

string them all together in a ponytail
so, they wouldn’t block the face
of earth. And as for the barren trees
who leaves have fallen like my breast that

look like burlap sacks I’d paint them all
in bouncing polka-dots so they’d resemble
rainbow sprinkles on top a birthday. Then I
would not have to eagerly wait for the coming

of another spring. Because color would
abound. And if the ground turned to
frost. I’d dye the dew a purple hue
that it would think it lavender. And then

it wouldn’t matter what the season be or what
the calendar said. Because believe you me
we’d paint the pretty picture in our head.

like an acorn
from the old oak – kerplop
in a shower of nuts
I couldn’t stop

I fell
as a bowling pin
hard and straight down
with my head spinning round
and around

I fell
from the sky
like a lightning rod
and split a tree
as I hit sod

I fell
in a second
like the second hand
on a clock
racing at top speed
just like a ****

over two men. I didn’t see
me standing naked as
the winter trees. Stiff as
a starch shirt. The hurt I

worn was marmalade. And
spread in yonder sky as fire, the sticky
slopping syrup called desire. I
lapped it up as a mangy dog

that hadn’t eaten in a week. I was
bones and teeth. I waved my pen
in the air spelling letters in the
billowing clouds. I fell over my puddles

of teardrops till I was face-down
on the ground in the sherry and
beer. And I couldn’t fit in this head
that the men didn’t care. I outgrew

their mistakes as my size two
pants. I danced in the snow. I waltzed
in the rain. But I fell again into this -
“that was then”

Low
slapping my face
in the ***** cracks
of a broken vase

I fell so
High
knocking a buttered sun
out of the cornflower sky

I fell so
Far
passing a naked moon
through a fallen star

I fell so
Near
tearing a jagged hole
in my crimson lace brassiere

I fell so
Wide
there wasn't a place
anywhere safe to hide

I fell so
Narrow
dying from the sting
of a poisonous arrow

If ever I need
to hold you
it’s now
when the world is
crumbling to bits
and the people spit
them out at me

If ever I need
to count on you
it’s now
when I’m struggling
to awake
and all is fake

If ever I need
to love you
it’s now
when people are full of hate
and none can wait
none have faith

was a mile
I’d circle the earth
and back again
the hardest walk
without a friend

If every teardrop
was a match
I’d light a forest the world around
till I flattened the ground
and all the trees
crumble as leaves

If every teardrop
was a raindrop
I’d flood the oceans
with my emotions
men have to build an ark
surrounded by circling sharks

If every teardrop
was a note
they’d hang in the air
a song of love and despair
and men waltz
bowing their heads
till they all went off to bed

If every teardrop
was a rung
I'd climb
till spring has sprung
heaven high
and touch the moon
till tulips bloom
from hazel eyes
daffodils and butterflies

in the morning
when the sun is dawning
my eyes are fuzzy
and I’m yawning
because he thinks
it’s that simple
I might sigh –
I won’t tell him
Goodbye

If he leaves me
in the afternoon
so soon before lunch
I got a hunch
I won’t even try
to tell him
Goodbye

If he leaves me
in the evening
when I’m reading
after feeding him
his favorite meal
well, if this is how
he really feels –

that porcelain face with spider
legs in black mascara they'd dance
like Mati Hari wearing a crimson
sari. Hazel colored iris scream

from all they've seen. They've held
back a river with honey glazed
ham. Stuck to their shell like a razor-
shell clam. Frosted cornflower

shadow is painted over the
lid. Curtained in bangs of ink pasta
squid swishing back and
forth like windshield wipers. Nose

blowing gunk out like winded
bagpipers. Or if they were sewn
tight with needle and thread she'd lay
them to rest like an indigo spread.

I'd sneeze and oust him
in the air. And blow out
his candle, ***** out the flare
in a fell-swoop kerchoo. His little

bits floating like pepper
in the stew. I'd swallow them
with parsley and celery seed
and some paprika too. The smoky

flavors added with the capers
and the rue turns into vapor as
a freight train passing through. I wear
him as a red and blue tattoo. If only

he was a pebble I’d shake him
out of my shoe. But he’s rooted in
my brain and fastened with a *****. So,
I drain him ink and sell it out as news.

I would say the honeybee
stung my tongue. And that is
why too, my cheeks are gossamer
blue. A lack of oxygen has caused

the eyes to roll back until all you
see is white. If you listen close you
can hear the amphibian harlequin
in my throat wearing red tights

and a checkered coat. My lips are
flared like a conch. But they’re hanging
lower than my old man’s paunch. So,
you see I can’t really talk today. Oh,

I would love to. And have plenty to
say. It’s just things haven’t been
the same since the flea flew in my ear
and made its home. Now it’s time for me
to get off this phone.

If I Asked You to be Mine

Have I the nerve to tell you
you’re always on my mind? There’s no easy way
for me to say it. The words would never
rhyme. If I put something together, as a chef does

a soufflé, would it fall apart the instant
you hit play? Would you scoff at me for trying,  
thinking  I could rise up to you, as the trees do
to the sky, as the sun does every morning to light

your handsome face, before you splash it
with hot water for your daily shave, as mercury rising
from the scorching heat of a summer’s day?  Would it all
come undone? If I told you that this feeling wasn’t

something new. I felt it the first time
I laid eyes on you, the first time you placed
your strong hand in mine. Would you think that I’ve gone
crazy? Would you think I’ve lost my mind? Would you

cut off old familiar ties, as you cut off
the tags from your tweed suit? Would you file me
in the rotary bin and then become mute? Would we lose
all space and time if I asked you to be mine?

I won't need the bottle
or a teddy bear.
I won't need a blanky
or a lullaby in the rocking chair

If I can be your baby
I won't need a cuddly doll
a satin dress
or a trip to the mall

If I can be your baby
I won't need a Christmas present,
even if Santa sent it!
I won't need a chocolate bar
a candy-cane or electric guitar.

A pink bicycle with a basket -
I would not ask it
if I had you.
I would not need the sun or the moon,
an ocean breeze.
or a swing on a tree.

I would have
the sun as you smile
the stars as you wink your eyes
an ocean breeze is your stride
the strum from a guitar in your words
your voice dancing as a mockingbird's
your lips sweet as sugarplums

And if the day came
that I was your baby?
Hell, just the idea is making me crazy!

as snow turns into
a puddle and dissolves
I wouldn't fuddle my head
with alcohol. Paint myself up

as a doll. Spread my legs
as Eagle wings! Pulled as
a puppet on strings. I'm a snowball
that's grown from men that buttered
me up as a scone, greasing their fingers

and licking my bones. I once was
a river. Now I've a river of men that skate
on ice. Some fallen in. That's the vice of
wearing pigskin!

I’ll be a body. They’ll have to read
these eyes that bleed. They’ll have to hear
the swinging ******* that sag as a loaded nest
in this ragged woman’s chest. They’ll

have to see for themselves each line
of blubber that folds on the other.
They’ll have to watch the hairy ******
go north and south. And see the little hooded

beast stick its snotty nose out. These lips are
flapping like wings that want to fly. And fly they will –
on garbage still

my hands
will turn to
bricks
of clay

If I can’t hold you
my arms
will turn to
strands
of hay

If I can’t rest
my head
on your shoulder
this heart
will become
colder

If I can’t lean
my body
into yours
breathe
the fragrance
from your pores
then life
as I see it
has no
lure

him as a striped blue and
yellow tie I'd take off as an airplane
and fly. Not wrapped tightly around his
starched collar. Yeehaw I'd holler! And

just as a sailor’s knot I'd unloop him
on the spot. I'd unhitch him
as a trailer on the highway in
the pouring rain. Bleach him out

as a port wine stain. If he was
only a computer I'd clear the memory of
all past, deleting years from first
to last. And burn the pages of

this leather book. So, not to take a look
again. Fire up the ink in my wooden
fountain pen and paper it with a wedge
of lime and yen.

as a dollop of dew
on the cold morning grass
I’ll melt in the sun
from that I clung
evaporate in the air
and pass

If I cling
as a balloon
to the wall
static electricity
is all
I’ll sit as a sticker
flicker
and fall

If I cling
as plastic wrap to the bowl
you can see-through me
I’m black as coal
leaving a stain
as ink

collect the stars
in a jar
I could climb
up to Mars

If I could
gather the sea
in my arms
I could water
the burning barns

If I could
lasso the sun and the moon
I’d juggle them as *****
so, just the bright light falls
over the land
Until –
they fell out of
my hands

blowing in the wind
moving in every direction
turning like the water mill
not a rock standing still

I would shine in the sun
like a ****'s red feathers spun
all that moves for me is time
growing old with every chime

looking to rise like the yeast
not lying in the pan
like the grease
let me live –
or I shall cease

out of life
as I did with my hair as
a ten-year old child
that didn’t care. It was a cinch and

did the job fast. I’d throw
the mass in the trash. It looked like
a nest that the Robin hatched

her chicks in. Women are
snarly. And so are men. And I,
too. It’s hard to brush through
the clumps of life. My head is

an ocean. My hair, the crashing
waves. And the men are all lice. I’d
like a clean shave!

a moment
jump back into the frame
you can't take my place
I’d have things the same
look behind me –
now it’s yesterday

If I could freezeframe
this man
twist-tie the hands of time
wrap myself around him
as he’s mine
so, we can chill out and unwind

If I could freezeframe
that year
hang it on the wall
if only I'd looked into a crystal ball!
but then you don't have a second chance
this movie plays out till the end
can’t rewind –
and go back again

I’d give you flowering cherry
blossoms, dancing diamond lakes
and baby robins. I’d give you cornflower
skies and warm apple pie.

If I could give you a day
I’d give you honey meadows and
singing larks, stardust kisses
in the dark. I’d give you bubbling streams
and waterfalls. But that’s not all….

If I could give you a day
I'd make it a novel one, as a baby first screams
as she thrusts out her lungs, pushing out
into this world fast as a shotgun.

If I could give you a day
I’d give you today wrapped up
in silk and bows. That's all I have. I put
yesterday out with the trash. I took all I
could of it/recycled the memories that served
me/ let go of the ones that burned me.