it is my line to walk. You can
chalk it up to rebelliousness. I'm not
the next Eliot Ness. It'll strike a chord
in you for branding my own new. I've tried

to go straight; but it's overrated. In fact,
it left me constipated. I have more room
off to the sides. I'm like a rubber plant. I bounced
up to the light/not a tin soldier with arms

and chest sewn on tight. Like an adventitious root
I spread and sprawl. But as a creeper I find myself
climbing up the walls. Some say I'm a mess of
tangledness. I'm just a **** growing in the cracks/ a train
jumping the tracks.

a flower
I’d be a sunflower.
So, I could have a bright sunny face.
Be as tall as the Eiffel tower.
People would feed on my seed.
Instead of my lines they don’t read.

If I was
a bird
I’d be an eagle.
I would be regal
being America’s national symbol.
And I would soar!
Instead of being a bore.

If I was
land
I’d be a jungle.
Grow wild but never bungle.
Have lions for my kings!
And vines were moneys swing!
Instead of scuffs and dings.

If I was
only me –
Well I can dream!

I’d pull my string
and land softly
dancing with the clouds
floating in the air
I don’t like crowds
and I’m round/not square

If I was a parachute
I’d fly higher than the birds
I don’t have words
for free falling
sinking and sprawling

If I was a parachute
open as the ocean
falling in slow motion
has me high
the mountain looks
like a butterfly

I’d have to be winter. Because
everything has fallen off me. And I’m
waiting for the green, waiting to sprout
wings. It’s not the time of year I

prefer. I’d rather be spending my time
outdoors. I’ve been boxed in the walls of my
limits for so long that I’ve blown them
up. Now I’ve nothing to fall back

on. This is my season finale. So, I
better make it grand. Because when
everything else is wasted
what will stand?

dancing cha-cha
in your nose or a forceful
sneeze excited to let go would you
wipe me up with a cotton hanky?

If I was a cranky gale
blowing hot messing your coiffure
or a hangnail with spots and
a jagged edge would you file
me down?

If I was a pounding
throb in your head would you
lay me in your four-poster bed
and lock the door?

If I was a thick pile
of stinking manure
squishing between your toes
would you wash me away
with water and soap?

If I was a rope
would you climb? Watch the sunrise
over the mountain. See the eagle
fly around and catch our breath. We've
only this one chance left.

I’d spend the livid day
swimming in the cool, green stream.
And dip below the surface
as the children ran and scream.

If I was a turtle
I’d bask in the light of the glowing sun
sitting on a fallen log
falling asleep till I heard the croak
of the old bullfrog.

If I was a turtle
I’d pull my head
and limber limbs inside
if someone jerky scared me.
I’d not leave my place to hide.

If I was a turtle
I’d not ask for a lot.
Inside my shiny, painted dome
I’d fiddle the day
not roaming from my home,
relaxed and fed, and gay.

I’d sit all day
on your windowsill
bright as a flowering
bouquet. I’d fly from

room to room, following
you as you move. I’d see you
in the morning as you lifted
the shades to greet the day. I’d see

you in the kitchen, peering over
the sink, fixing up your breakfast –
pouring a glass of milk to drink.
I’d follow you to your office,

hiding behind the screen. As your
fingers danced the keys I’d preen my
feathers. And pick on an ant waltzing on
the sill until the sun fell. And you climbed

the stairs into your bedroom. Your wife drawn
the shades. Then I’d fly high inhaling
the memories. The sky, pink chiffon. I’d sleep
on your lawn. And wake you with song in
the wetness of the morn.

I'd adhere
to all I touch. But I wouldn’t erase
the colors they wear

I'd shine them
up. So, black glows
as patent leather.
And red’s bright as
a cardinal’s feather.

I’d slip in through
your screen
without being seen
encircle you
as a gentle breeze
raising the hair
on your arm
as a dandelion
on the lawn

wrap around
your unbuttoned collar
waltzing under your shirt
as a six-leg crawler
making my nest
there in your chest
your heartbeat
makes me jump
as a toad
splashing out
of the water

if this makes me
odder
to not be seen
but living in
cut, cotton fabric
the trestles of bone
and shingles of skin
my home –
if I was the wind

back then,
without wrinkles and hair grey
I'd hold my own to him.
But I was so little,
little in my experience of life.
I went from daughter to wife
at the age girls were still dating,
planning their next vacation
not dusting, vacuuming and baking.

If I was this woman
that stands outspoken
not a little girl broken
I wouldn't have fallen for
stars in his eyes.
I'd rise as the stars and shine
without a man by my side.

If I was this woman
I'd hold the little girl
in my arms
and mother her from
experience. Every child
needs a mother. But not
every woman can
mother a child if she’s broken.

a tree
I’d lend you
my leaves,
a canopy of shade
on a scorching day.

If I were
a book
I'd lend you
my wisdom,
so, you can rule
kingdoms.

If I were
a turtle
I’d lend you
my shell.
Housing you
from strangers.

If I were
a bird
I’d lend you
my wings,
so, you can fly
with the eagles.

If I were
a mountain
I’d lend you
my summit.

But all I can
lend you
is a hand.

a lark
I’d sing
all morning
flapping my wings
till dark
filling the air
with my song
till the sandman
came along

If I were
a horse
I’d run
with the wind
in the meadows and plains
splashing in the ocean
through the sandy terrain

If I were
a turtle
I’d stroll
taking my home
as I go
basking in fresh-water lagoons
closing my eyes
till noon

If I were
a heron
I’d fly
in an azure sky
over treetops and raindrops
wade in the crystal river
till the water made me shiver
then sit in the grass and dry

If I were
the sun
I’d shine
gold as a band of 24 karat
bright as a jungle parrot
over the sea and land
not hiding behind a cloud
sticking my chest out proud

If I were
the moon
I’d be a pizza pie
full of toppings
in the shadow of a pepperoni
men would waltz in ceremony

If I Were Not Attached

to my arms, if they were not part of
my body I couldn’t hold my baby. I couldn’t
prepare delicious meals for my lover or my
children. If I had no ******* attached to my chest

I couldn’t feed my infant child. If I took off my
mouth and rest it in a jar, I couldn’t sing a lullaby
or read a fairytale, or comfort my scared child
with my soothing words. If my eyes floated

off my face I couldn’t enjoy the sunrise
or a see my baby take his first steps, or look deep
into my lover eyes. And how would I feel
if I never heard my lover say I love you,

or my child call me mother? Each one
of my parts is important. But without them
I’m not broken. I have spirit. I have mind,
and a gentle heart inside. And I can’t think back

to a time when thinking about someone,
or feeling their presence was more important
to me them limbs, and body parts that made
life easy, but not complete.

I could move things.  Propel your sails;
take you to the great unknown. I’d be strong
enough to tear the roof off your house. Yet so soft
as to lull you fast to sleep, flowing through

an open window as a breeze,
catching the scent of the mint in your garden.  I’m
the music in your chimes. Without me they’d
be ornaments hanging on a wire. I can make your kite fly

high among the clouds. On a hot day I can cool
your brow. I’d always have your back, climbing up
your pants and through your shirt, tickling the hairs
until they swing as a trumpet blowing. If I were the wind.

like a mustard stain
would you complain?

If I wore my pain
like a see-through dress
would you think of me less?

If I wore my pain
like a Harvard game
would you abstain?

If I wore my pain
like a totem pole
could you make me whole?

If Life was

a backdrop
I'd roll up the cloth to change
the screen, from raining
clouds to a forest of emerald,

green. Or if it was a movie reel,
I'd edit it, slicing the negatives
from black to teal. Leaving out
frost and ice, a palm and

pink sand paradise. Or what if
it was a painting of
a storm, electric bolts and
crashing seas. Men left as dregs

like tea leaves. I'd take it down
from the wall, and hang lavender
fields under mountains high,
on crystal lakes, a tie-dye sky.

I could straighten it
out if it’s crooked. It’d
take a second. Stepping back
I’d see it clearer, if I should

move it left towards
the mirror –
Or right towards the couch. And if
I’m fed up with the thing

I could take it out! Replace it with
a new scene –
a Paris street or hoofs of stallions
cutting through a field running wild. A mother

holding the hand of her child. A table set
with fruit and wine. A man on a boat
with a fish on his line. If I take it
and put it in a room

the sun shines through
the window, it could glow if
it wasn’t in the dark. It’s moveable,
not so like myself. I'm more like dust
settling on the shelf.

the damage
they can do. I try to shut them
down. I beat myself up.  I'm made
of dust. And like dust

hides in the closet of my
sins it begins. I cover it with clothes
and stilettos. Still, it hides in the
corners eating the mothballs. That smell

is hell. It’s the baby’s diaper
with a red, hot rash. It’s all the years
of no hard cash. It’s the scratches –
the spot she dug her nails in the wall. It’s

the screaming and bodies used as missiles
down the hall. If I can pack my thoughts
as I do the ornaments and the tree, I’d
leave them in the attic until next Christmas Eve.

If My Words Could Turn You On

as quickly as a sudden shower, as warmly
as a cozy fire on a on snowy winter’s day. If my
words could make you happy as a child on Christmas
morning after jolly old Santa comes calling it would

please me to please you that way. If my words were
put to music I wish that they would become your
favorite song. And you would play me over and over
until the light of dawn. But more than that I wish

they had the power to move you as the wind
whenever you were feeling dispirited. You could swallow
them as soft-serve ice cream, when your throat was sore.
They would melt on your tongue. I wish my words

could be as a lover, blowing in your ear, caressing
you gently, and stirring something deep inside you,
you never felt before.  I wish my words were your
mother, so that when you felt you were in trouble

you could reach out to them, and they would hold you.
Take them to bed with you. On those restless nights when
the devil plays with your mind they will rock you to sleep
and give you the sweetest dreams of all-time.

reads me then I sell no books
all my hard work of scratching my ***
and feeling hurt over remaining in
the shadows of someone’s light
always straining to achieve something
that at least for me, seems out of sight

If no one watches my videos
then I’ll never get a second look
I ostentatiously display the **** –
a little overcooked
the ****** is more open to them
they’d rather get their sticky fingers in it
than any book

If no one bothers to listen
then I’ll be lonelier still
and that’s a hell of a lot of emptiness
to fill
If you don’t answer when I call
Oh, death come find me
once and for all

reads me I’ll read myself –
I’ll take each line and drink each rhyme
until I’m worn out

If no one
cares to be my friend I’ll please myself –
I’ll take long walks in woods and forests
enjoy the peaceful reverie that comes
when people aren’t talking liberally

If no one
bothers to acknowledge my existence –
Hell! I’ll be persistent and keep writing
because that’s what I do

and somewhere, someday someone
might say Hell! She was pretty good!

happened how would I
I write? My scars are my
sight. If nothing occured I wouldn't
matured.If nothing set me off

I'd not lift off the page. I'd not
engage an audience. If nothing ever
jostled me, although I'm sozzled I'd
nothing to speak.

work it in

I read your blog
On your wall
Pictures you post
I see it all
You don’t know it
You can’t see
I follow you silently
All your updates
Past events
Everything you experience
People and places
Things that you’ve written
Thoughts and ideas
You’ve passionately mentioned
It gives me goosebumps
Chills down my spine
I follow you
All the time
You make this little girl’s
Heart skip beats
When I scroll
My computer screen
It’s as if
I’m living a dream
I know what you ate
Know where you’ve been
With who and what and when
Know when you're sick
and when you're well
I can always tell
Know when you sleep
And get up
Can’t get enough
I follow you
to pass the time
Now you know
That I know
More about you
Then maybe you wish
Some might say
I’m obsessed
That I’m a stalker
I follow you to death
It doesn’t hurt anyone
I Follow you
just for fun!

my ego
were as small
as my breast
I could have a good rest

If only
my courage
was as big
as my nose
then anything goes

If only
my rue
could grow out
like my hair
I wouldn’t have a care

If Only

I could make enough
for a few days in Venice
when is this bad streak ever
gonna end
when will the sun come out
where is a friend
when you need one
who needs a reason to
read one –
of my books
I’ll give you two
one to help a poor drunk
come out of a slump
the other
to make this woman’s
dream come true
I’ll give you a third
If you spread
the word
I need to be heard and wish
to be sober
come October
the sales will be up
more than they’ve been
the last few months

I forgot
that this world
was falling apart
that I longed
for a drink
that I couldn’t see Paris
in the spring
that I’d go back to
the empty life I knew
You’d given me
in a moment
what some people search for
in a lifetime

my mind up
like make my bed –
everything would be
neatly spread

If only I could make
myself up like my face
I’d arrange it so
it’d stay in place

If only I could make
my life like something
I bake
it would be a piece of cake

who would notice? The bills would come,
one by one. The sun would emit its rays
as if to say, “isn’t this beautiful” And not a kind heart
at the funeral. And every written verse

fade muted as an unplugged tv. And another
sunset at eve. People talking about the next election
and abortion.  She was only a distortion of aberrant
proportion. Let her wilt away, line by line. Only the grass grows
on the grave.

If Someone Won’t Hold Her

soon she’s going to break
apart. She’s been aching for
touch. She buried it as squirrels do
with the acorns that fall from

the trees. Now its
winter and she’s lonely. Except
she can’t find the place where
she put it. In her backyard,

the ground’s frozen hard. So, she
can’t uncover it, even if
she discovered where she last
placed it.

Tell me nothing is wrong.
Tell me I’m strong.
Tell me not to cry,
But not give me a reason why.
Tell me all it’ll blow away.
If that’s what you say.

God only gives you what you can handle.
Time will take away the pain.
There’s a light at the end,
if you say so, my friend.

Tell me nothing is wrong.
Tell me I’m strong.
Tell me not to cry,
But not give me a reason why.
Tell me it’ll all blow away.
If that’s what you say.

Others are less fortunate than you.
What doesn’t **** you makes you stronger.
I don’t think I can last any longer.

Tell me nothing is wrong.
Tell me I’m strong.
Tell me not to cry,
But not give me a reason why.
Tell me it’ll all blow away.
If that’s what you say.

I’m so sick of clichés.
No one understands.
They think they do, but they don’t.
They need something to say.
But I’d be better off if they don’t.

I’d pair him
with my knife,
cutting back his thick skin.
And slicing him, rolling

my blade over the worm
holes, into a bowl
removing his seeds. Now
seeing his core, tossing him

him in the blender.
Pulverize him till he
was tender. Make him
into a sauce. Add cinnamon

and sugar to sweeten it. And I’d
take a spoon to eaten it!  Or a straw
to swallow the pumped up
marrow.

And so, I can’t say
all was not lost!

were a butterfly
I’d cut its wings
and have it die
then sew my eyes
so, I couldn’t see
another butterfly
dancing free

If the pain
were a sunny day
I’d cut it up
pound it like clay
draw the shades
and hang myself
they’ll never be
someone else

If the pain
were a river
I’d have it run me out to sea
and decompose
like leaves of tea
till I'm dregs
the manatees smoke
and never be
a halfwit of some bloke

of his manly musk rose before dusk
would I be so sublime to own it

as mine? And if I did partake would I
forsake the other? Daft if it blew

my cover. As the grey, billowing clouds
hang over the high man’s brow. I could make

a shroud and bury the both of us
in this. Does a smile equal bliss?

sing. Let the notes carry
your voice like a string of
popcorn on the tree at
Christmas eve.

If there’s no poem
write. The pen is the baton
you wave from left to
right.

If there’s no chance
take. Take all you can
and create a masterpiece. Do
not let them tell you no, or slow
you down from your goal!

were butternut squash
would we toss it in a bowl
with buttered linguini and eat it
on the beach wearing our bikini?


If the ground
were peppermint bark
would we cut it up like confetti
and spoon it over our spaghetti?

If the clouds
come rolling by us
we could collect them for
a pie crust. You pick the apples,
I the pears. We’ll make a **** –
Wash it down with a six-pack of beers!

on an empty garden
how can a sapling poke
its way through
when not a seed was
planted to connect its
roots

If the sun shines
on an empty playground
how can we hear
the children’s laugh
or watch the dogs
chasing the feral cat

If the sun shines
on an empty street
who am I to see?
Who am I to greet?

If the sun shines
all day
things will still be
the same

that’s what it’s like
when you live in the shade

then why do it to ourselves?
we need to be able to
build ourselves up
because no one out there
is going to
have our backs
be in our corner
we need to honor each other
it’s just the two of us
if the world is going to
be against us
we need to be able to be there
for each other
stop the fighting and arguing
we are all the support we need
to last in a cynical world that doesn’t believe
and push past the boundaries
to make well our dreams

without the label
or sidewards glances
that he is able
to grow in the purest
as a crystal snowflake
the sunrise over the horizon
a sapling sprouting from the ground

If they'd hear him
without note or sound
with feathered wings
and sturdy bough

If they'd love him
as I do
without measure
as he is
he's a treasure

my last thought would be of
you. If I had amnesia, I would walk
around all the time as if I was blind
because the sun wouldn’t shine. It would

be pale as the moon. I would think
it was night in the middle of afternoon. The
pain of you feels like a prickly cactus. And my
mind is overactive with these thoughts. But

it’s as if I’m in the shower and instead
of sprinkling water it’s shooting arrows to
my heart. After such invigoration do I need
to give you an explanation of how alive

I feel, even in the pain. I want every memory,
every chapter, every page not to miss a day
of the way it was. Because it has shaped me
into this person.

would I be with you? Was I
your last resort when all
the rentals were booked. Would you
have looked at me if

they opened up
to you? Funny how life picks
the woman that wears white. If he
said yes to me would we still

be? Funny how life
carries me out to sea like
the tide. But like the tide too,
pushed me back onto the

shore. Funny how the man picks
the house where I reside, like flowers
in his garden. And our castle dreams
harden. Funny how we say we had

a voice when we were frozen, like icicles
hanging on the eaves. We're knocked
to the ground like crimson autumn leaves
from our backyard trees.

she’s crazy;
she’s stark
looming
mad
they said something –
if they said nothing
it went unnoticed
it was not something
worth talking about
It doesn’t matter
how it’s dressed
What matters is
it’s remembered
whatever its claim –
it has one
without shame
to be
noticed
is living

were only divergent
from the past days months
and years that all seem to run together
as a run-on sentence without the break these streams
run into a lake then go under as they plunder if today was
just that different and maybe something erupted or else got inter-
rupted from its usual stream of consciousness if today were bottomless

how could it go on?

If the clouds held the sky hostage
would the sun come out at dawn?

If the earth stopped spinning
would the planet become one massive storm?

If the audience never came
would the actor still perform?

If the colors all bled out
would everything turn gray?

If you left me by myself
my feet would turn to clay.

No mistake
will be too big
No problem
unsolvable
No goal
unattainable
No wrong
unforgivable
As long as we both shall live
we will always
be there together
Changing and growing
Year after year
No excuses here –
No one said it would be
a piece of cake
being married
isn’t easy
if you’re going to make
it work
but it’s worth
the time it takes
not to be
another statistic
in the divorce rate

what’s the point? I’m going
out

and walking off
all this hurt, less I

blurt something
worth saying if someone

could only pay attention,
ahem…

oh, never mind
no

gawd! Here we go

let’s stretch it
like taffy
bat eyes at each other
and be daffy

If we only have a moment
let’s polish it
like brass
make it shine
grab my ***

If we only have a moment
let’s play it
like a violin
pluck my strings
under your chin

If we only have a moment
let’s light it
like a fire
run naked
in the mire

for if it were to expire
no one can say
we didn’t have this

I would put it on thickly as
a Siberian Husky’s coat. I would
smear it as a child does paint on
the walls. It would be the graffiti

you view in the subway on your way
to work. It would linger as a fresh
batch of bacon from the coffee shop. It would
thrill like some awesome love-making that

you just can’t stop. It would rise as yeast
in the soufflé. It would calm you down
like a lavender bath does at the end of the day.
It would be your bible when you’ve lost hope.

A lipstick kiss would win your heart. It would
leave an indelible impression upon a finely
woven square of cotton you carry in your right-side
pocket. One you would never wash.

as the trees in winter
and all your colors splinter
into shades of black and white
and caused a spotted blight
sit tight

If you are bare
as the hot desert sand
down to your last strand
your arms and legs pinned
don’t go chasing after the wind

If you are bare
as a blank page
sitting inside your cage
somebody’s clipped your wings
cut all your heartstrings
swing as the monkeys do
break free from the old you

a heart
rip to shreds
split it apart
leaving it hanging
outside of its breast
with a gaping hole
in the middle of the chest
in the cold night air
till frost covers it
and the pieces look like
bacon bits
you spread on a salad
even broken -
it's still valid