about the laughing cornflower sky
honey wheat fields of dandelions
a red-tailed hawk soaring high.
Spraying ink in a billowing black cloud

like the octopus in the sea
a puff of ebony is my shroud.
Planting word seeds in the ground
where men have toiled and plowed,

Deep and dark as cherry wine
my pen, my airplane.
Flying off the page in every line.
Traveling over mountains

to deserts of sleeping lions.
Not a man can tell me where to land.
This is my life, my flight,
laboring birth with my right hand.

at the people who knew me
many years ago
now that I’ve hit skid row
they wouldn't recognize me today
how much I've changed
compared to the little
innocent thing  
that they once knew
long before everything
long before life played tic-tac-toe
with me
and won with three x’s
vertically
and the remaining o’s
became mush
in my cereal bowl
I hadn't a cushion to fall
back on
wish I could say
I've learned my lesson
you just have to keep laughing

by other people’s rules
to use other peoples’ technology
until I earn my own wings –
Then I’ll say “**** ‘em”

I have to live in a world
with other people’s moods
to walk on eggshells
because they’re prickly
I’ll just tell ‘em “go to hell”
and do my own thing

I have to live in a world
with other people’s contradictions
to make me go crazy
from all their restrictions
the ******* and ******* –
they all need a good **** up their *****!

that don’t prop me
properly. Because these two pegs,
that pose as legs are only twigs
for ****, tight pants, or for spreading

themselves out as the buffet for
hungry men, which are worthless
when they lost the yen. I might as well
cut them off –

they never take me to where I want. If they
decide to move, they go slow. When I was
young, they felt like springs. I could do
amazing things, bouncing from one

activity to another, which would
infuriate my mother. At times I thought
they were rocket ships. They’d launch me into
incredible trips. I’d run for miles on the heels

of them, dance and skip. Now they sadly sit
below my hip, with nothing much to do
but cross over the other, hanging like a long
loose **** that cannot perform the same old tricks.

each time you say
my name. The daffodils
are springing up in flutes of
pink champagne. The clouds are

making letters in the sky. They’re
composing a poem before my
very eyes. The cattails are barking
in the marsh. They’re so ***** I suspect

someone fed them cornstarch. The leaves
are falling up instead of down. My square
house is completely round. There are no edges,
even the roof does not have eaves. And

no matter how high up I look I can’t find
the tops of the trees. I don’t know where I am
or where I’m going. But whatever it is I feel
like a non-stop glowstick stuck on a pinwheel.

through lonely cold winters
as I splintered
black nights unraveled
little pieces of gravel
crushed together
turned stone
Man chiseled me down
to the bone
and still….

I held on
in marmalade autumn
as red and golden leaves
fall to the bottom
and man tramps
a scoundrel in tan pants
even then….

I held on
as a song on replay
melting as
a sunset on fire
till I turned
to liquid ****
man poured straight
from the tube

as I lay in a puddle
at his feet
I mustered the strength
to retreat

so long
I’ve callouses
on my hands/knots in
my stomach. Swinging back
and forth/now I’m going to
plummet.

I held on
so tight
I’ve burn marks
on my fingers. No foothold
for me to linger. I’m a stone
sitting in a catapult
as my home.

I held on
so bravely
hoping someone
out there
would save me.
But there's not
a sole in sight.
So –
I let go
and took flight.

as the branch
was snapping
my arms were flapping
as wings
but I couldn’t fly
I fell on his lies

I held on
to use to Be’s
left me pining
up at night whining for the past
letting go of my hand
as a balloon tied to a string
and I saw it grow smaller
as it caught a breeze –
floating higher than the trees
till it wasn’t seen

I held on
to a dream
of could Be’s
of knights in white satin
riding on steeds
a prisoner in an ivory tower
till I uncovered the stain
that was painted over
in rosy gloss
but I plucked the tartar
like dental floss

tighter than a ******. My door
is never ajar. There are locks around
my heart. I am fire; I am passion contained,
a bucket collecting rain, a blue canary in

a wire cage, one that sings out in pain,
piercing through the plaster and the boards,
hitting the electrical cords,
one that swings instead of flies,

one that never goes outside,
one that’s hung by a chain from the molding
on the ceiling, always catching the calico's
eye. Here I live. And here I’ll die.

down
and a drop
of dew
fell
to the ground
lead by two more
and soon
I'm a racoon
and a flood's
on my floor

I strolled
to the closet
and grabbed
the mop and bucket
but the furniture
was floating
and I sinking
until the bucket
was my boat
and the mop
my paddle
and I battled
a tidal wave
until the roof
caved

a branch
to sit in my reverie
not the trunk of the tree
a couples of leaves for shade
as I wade through the day

I just need
a stream
to wet my feet
not an ocean
some rocks to walk across
and cool myself off

I just need
a handful of blueberries
to quiet my rumbling tummy
I’ll leave the lot on the bush
for someone that’s hungry
so, they won't have a rumbling tummy

I just need
a roof
to shield me
from the cold and rain
doesn't matter size or shape
just a place to call home
when I don't need to roam

I just need
a few seconds, my friend
to catch up on things    
not a whole afternoon
it appears a lot to ask
life flies by us so fast

I just need
someone that receives me
not someone that nods their head
at all I said
or refuses to look me in the eye
when we’re not on the same side

like the sun
coming up
in the morning.
I’m a boat,
and he’s my mooring.

I just need to hear him
like the birds
in the forest.
I’m a song,
and he’s my chorus.

I just need to see him
like a rainbow
in the sky.
He’s the reflection
that colors my eyes.

I Just Smiled

For all the ones who said I couldn’t,
that it was ludicrous to even think
I could. I kept on trying. Those same ones
would have given up a long time ago. I was

unyielding. When they were mocking me
for doing my own thing they continued on unhappy
with their own lives, too afraid to change
or sacrifice, feeling comfortable. When I tumbled

they were quick to say “told you so.” After each trip
I picked myself up and dusted myself off.  They still
pointed their fingers and said “never.” I continued
onward, in it for the long haul not paying

attention to the things they said.  And when
I finally accomplished what they thought
was impossible I didn’t say “told you so.”
I just smiled.

for signs of life
line after line
some fall
some rise
but in the end
they always die

I keep checking
for homes
to place them
some haven’t any
two a place to lie
but in the end
they always die

I keep checking
the numbers
as if they were stock
and every point off
makes me scoff
as to why -
in the end
they always die

time
burning up the hours
as if they’re calories
and I’m on an exercise machine.
Not for this queen!

I ****
men
softly with my body –
La petite mort
a shoddy sport

I ****
myself
wearing make-up
so I can look like
a model
and have men
coddle me
as if I'm an egg.

I ****
woman
with laughter.
But after I leave
the room
and take off the mask
they don't ask
about me –
Guess they can live
without me!

and where he lives
his favorite color cobalt
blue, the bars he'd visited,
and the few women he went

there with. I know his breathing
when he sleeps is uneven and
the secrets that he keeps. Because
he talks in his sleep. I know

the musk he wears, and
that he hasn't underwear in his
bedroom drawers, just a bunch of
mismatched socks. I know the

pounds he can bench, his favorite
food, Indian. And who he voted for
president. I know his name. But today
as he walked by he didn't stop or say hi.

I Know How it Feels

to scream.
Nobody
answers your cries.
I know how it is
to wake up
every morning
with blood-shot eyes.

I know how it feels
to die.
I died
a thousand deaths
before my time.

death will come,
to me, my love, or anyone.
to friend, or foe who knows

the end? so, let us spring
to life again! and see the green
against the black. welcome all,

and not turn back.
feel the feelings, express them.
release the tears; don’t suppress
them.

you want purpose?
purpose is this -
Death can kiss my raised-up fist.

that you try to hide from view
by plastering that wide Cheshire smile –
on that narrow bristle face. If it was
any thicker it would crack
down the middle. You’d look like
snapped bows of a broken
fiddle. And you wouldn’t be able
to play anymore to the novice girl’s
next door.

I know the side of you
that you keep very still,
as a cat crouched down while it
ogles its unsuspecting prey. It
doesn’t make a sound until it pounces
on the lift-off. Of course, whatever
its going after doesn’t realize what happened
until it’s too late. You always knew
how to bait. You had them under
your spell, with those hypnotic eyes and
paralyzing lies. You had me too. No more
do I play the fool.

to be the bird
kicked out of the nest
to have my wings broken in the fall
to land flat on my face
that it made an impression in the ground
to be stripped of my song

I looked comestible
to the feral cat
cut me up in a one fell swoop scratch
I screeched loud as a hawk
pleaded for the torment to stop
now I’m carrion
laying in broken pieces for the pigeons
amazing they can still tear some off
the little left that I’ve got

and I’m not going to
keep it. I’m going to light it up
like Times Square on the first
of the year. Everything they thought

they knew about you was a lie. You
said you had religion? Then why were
you ******* a married woman? Why did
you break the Hippocratic oath –

of “do no harm” while all the long you
poured on the charm. You died intact –
a saint, a hero, the one they turned to.
So misrepresented. But as always –

that was your intention.

at summer’s end,
as birch trees bend
in the breeze. And butterflies
flutter and tease. My hot breath

on the glass. The smell of
smoky crimson ash. Dew drop
pearls on rose petals. Dancing water in
stove-top kettles. His whispers dangle

in my garden. Like the hammock
hung in the yard in the nook
between the trees. I shook him off
in one tight squeeze.

of the string
tethered and wound
around my hand. Ruts
that cut and bled out from
holding on so tight. I saw
the balloon fly off into
the night, till it exploded
littering the sky.  But not as stars –
just blots with no shine.

I let go
of the reverie
that filled my head
like a drunk that passed out
and plopped into bed. As I awoke
my head heavy as a big bowling
ball. I couldn’t lift at all. I fell
flat on my back till the spring, as
the flowers were blooming and robins
did sing their sweet songs. And I saw
what I missed all along.

into a kaleidoscope
of running colors that danced
on broken glass through
every pass.

I let my pieces fall
into a mosaic
of cut tiles that fit together
swirling like a painting,
a work of art I was creating.

I let my pieces fall
like raindrops
from a cloud. And built
a rainbow over the sky
a hundred stories high.

I let my pieces fall
into a garden
and watered the harden
earth. And birthed a bed of
roses with little turn-up noses.

at night
asking questions why.
Not finding any reasons
to believe in you.

As the seasons change
this life grows strange.
My hearts got the flu.
Sits so heavy in my chest.

I can’t bend to get dressed.
My thoughts won’t rest.
They’re running marathons
all night long.

who are open with their emotions.
who are not afraid to cry
who can hold other men when they are in pain
who never would tell a lie
who are not afraid to change
who make me laugh
who are spontaneous
who don’t take life too serious
who are rebels and innovators
who can speak their mind
who can stand apart from the crowd
who makes love under the stars
who appreciates me as I am
who are older than me
and psychologically sound
educated and smart
who listens –
but can put me in my place
who supports my dreams
who is faithful and secure
who shows me respect
who loves me to death

I like rain in the winter
It washes the snow away

I like rain in the spring
It turns everything green

I like rain in the summer
It brings a peaceful slumber

But rain in the autumn
Is soon forgotten

People are politics
I don’t like politics
People are noise
I don’t like noise
Except -
the gentle rain
the guiding wind
the robin’s song
the bunny cutting
across my lawn
People are hang-ups
I don’t like hang-ups
I like simple
and uncomplicated
the sunset over the horizon
the dew-drops
clinging to the grass
in the morning
the spray of the ocean
the smell of a warm
apple pie
Yes, there are exceptions
But I solitude

bad boy, psychological thriller
don’t want no Stiller and Meara
can’t make myself any clearer
I need a man with fight
ain’t no good unless a gun’s exploding
a moody mongrel that keeps his wallet tight
a Three Dog Night
meet me in the ally way
I’ll be the top of your hit parade
dig up the dirt with your garden *****
just let loose and scream
bite down hard
on those chiseled dreams
we’ll put together something mean
steely and cold
ain’t no use unless it robs your soul
leaves you blind
I like the messed-up kind

kisses
the sloppy kind that drips
taste of wine
on every sip

I like those messy
beds
the kind you romp in
and flop
underneath the spread

I like those messy
desks
the kind aligned
with pictures of your kids
their works of art
and bags of chips

I like those messy
homes
that looked lived in
scattered shoes by the door
pillows from the couch
on the floor
chewed up dog toys
books thrown on the coffee table
with a cup from last night's dinner

I like those messy
clothes
the kind that are wrinkled
that you don't tuck in
or can't bend over or sit
without showing skin
without buttons or belts
the kind you can eat in
without undoing the zipper

I like those messy
Lives
that aren’t *******
neat and square
like a package in the mail

with just myself. Lying in a red hammock
curled up under a cornflower sky, with a book
to read as a cardinal flies by.  Or walking
in the woods among the ferns and the trees

I find tranquility. The chattering song of
the jay, the stillness of a breaking day. Women are
critical and glib, drooling like babies wearing
a bib. Green- eyed and petty. Raining on me

like colored confetti. Friendship is overrated,
leaving me lonely and weighted. The babbling
of a brook I'll take than that of a woman. Time is
a gift not to squander. Thoughts are words

to sit and to ponder. Women spread them like
strawberry jam, rolling out of their mouths
like a broken dam. Like the sun and the moon
I'm a solitary man.

in the kitchen. I like to stir up trouble
like it was a famous sauce, and only I
know the ingredients. And they got
lost. So, I can’t duplicate what it was I put
in this dish. But I don’t care a fig! To me
it’s all child’s play.

I like to leave messes
in the closet. It looks as the backstage
of a cabaret. And there’s excitement and
confusion when the I throw back the doors
and look there on the floor at the colorful disarray.

I like to leave messes
in my love life. Spark a fire. I can’t live
the ordinary neat shelved life. I need to
add something new once in a while. Otherwise
it would be boring knowing everything’s
the same. I fancy change, in my love life anyway.

I can push things
I love to overstep the boundaries
I like to tear people apart
Most I find are hypocrites
that say one thing and do another
you think you know someone
until you find out you don’t
me, I’m just myself
however surreal that is –
people always expect something else
but I never give it to them

in shade. I laid
in sun till it scorched
me. Blisters grew
like fat plums on the tree.

I live
in shadow. I'd glow
in red light. Till the brightness
made me blind. And the light
burned my behind.

I live
in stillness. This illness
is from too many days
dancing in the sun.

I live
in stone. I'm a mountain
that stands alone. I've my books
and poetry. Men don't
notice me.

where you could eat the walls. The roof
was made of royal icing. It dried on thick and
hard. And the tiles were sugar-coated gumdrops
that the birds pecked off before the fall. Candy

canes for doorways you could lick. But they’d stick
to your lips. And after that you couldn’t get
your mouth open a crack. It looked to all outside
a very pleasant place to reside. But no one knew

it was a cathouse, and that the field marshal
was a master of disguise who drew the curtains
over her candy-shop of horrors. And welted our bottoms
with hot molasses stuck to a long wooden spoon. Some

where even jealous of me. They thought I had chocolate
pudding drawn for my bath. And that my bed was made
in lemon meringue. I wouldn’t tell them the truth. I didn’t
want to break the spell they were under. Everyone needs to
believe in something.

I didn’t see
what is. My eyes grew cataracts
the size of mountains. I laid in
honey fields/swam in fountains of

eternal yesterdays. Swept up in
this haze of evergreen/not seeing
the falling pines/the dry spines sticking
into my skin/bleeding out from within

a memory. Living in a bubble
that popped I was thrown off the
white horse. I'd more holes than
a golf course. Like seeing a black

and white movie you fill in the colors
on the screen. The reds and the violets
make you scream. I’d the torment of
what followed as my chest hollowed out

like a spout dripping the last
drop of water. I emptied out
like a loaded dishwasher/that is I’m clean –
clean of what was yesterday’s dream.

shaped to hold
the pain in me. It's cold
and hot from one day to
the next the color

I spot on this skin. Some days
I'm dripping yellow. I'm Jell-O-
and wiggle and wobble
within. Some days I’m tripping

red hot/poured to
the top/spilling out
burning, churning blobs
on the lip. Some days I skip

to black. You can stick
a knife in my back
and slice me two. I’ll have half
to myself/giving the other to you.

the big bad wolf
and blow and blow
until I knock some houses down
and expose the pigs inside
hiding in their clothes
and Clementine’s

I’ll Be

the voices inside my father’s
head
the one on the left      the one on the right
that way I’ll always be with him

I’ll Be

the ghost writer
for some famous author
who stole all they know from a drunken woman
who had no soul

I’ll Be

ruminating over a pizza tonight
I’d ask you to join me
but I wouldn’t want to disturb your Pollyanna smile
while I’m deliberating over committing suicide

a nick on his wrinkled face
that doesn't stop bleeding.
Held by a piece of tissue in place.
His hairline receding.

I'll be
the hemorrhoid in his pants
that doesn't stop growing.
He talks in slants.
The probity not showing.

I’ll be
a floating eyelash in his almond eye
that doesn't stop making him blink.
An elephant stain on his square tie,
the spilled splotch of ink.

I'll be
the throbbing headache
that doesn't stop pounding.
He cannot shake
that which is bounding.

I’ll Be

the porcupine
without the hollow shaped spines
The house that sits on the hill with no roof
Do you need proof?

Take away my sword and my shield
I’ll be the plains, a wide-open field
A rain barrel to collect all your tears
Love’s suicide note -

on a napkin I wrote
I’ve got the swell from the stung
Yet I sing
In dying

I pulled out the barb
of the sting
I’ll never be who I was because
I’m oz

because I’m a fallen
nut. And when I get buried
deep inside the ground someday
someone soft and furry
will dig me up and say
they found something immeasurably
brilliant yet continually
misunderstood. And they’ll release
my wooden cap. Take me out of hibernation –
my long winter’s nap. And once I’m
out of my tough leathery shell they’ll cherish me
forever. And so, I will tell the world
how I let go of the mighty oak and fell –
into myself
and did surprisingly well when I became
unattached from all of that –
the tree
the leaves
the earth
my shell
and cap

you want. Just say I’m alright. Prop me up
and compliment me. I can be confusing at times. All I want
is your approval. My refusal of the ordinary gets
under your skin. But that’s how I make life interesting. One day

this, another day that. It never gets boring. I’m here. Then
I’m there. You never know where I’m at. All you got
to do is love me. Chase me around in circles until you’re
dizzy. You’ll be the squirrel. And I’ll be the nut hiding.

when the stars fall
from the sky
and it snows smoky ashes
as the char catches
on those lashes
I’ll summon the wind
in billowing gusts
to blow off the dust

I’ll be there
when everyone disappears
and every day is like a year
marching on as a soldier
I’ll lend you my shoulder

I’ll be there
when the weight of this world
makes you crumble
like plaster on the wall
after an earthquake
as everything starts to fall
I’ll catch the pieces in my hand
as they land

like an apple pie. Do as much
as I can before I die. Drink all
the flavors like cherry wine. Swing
like the monkeys from vine

to vine. Some day I’ll be too old
to chase the wind. My arms and legs
pinned to a chair. I’ll fly with the gulls
in the warm air. And circle

the clouds on a carousel, till the music
swells in a crescendo. Before my eyes
have cataracts and I’m stuck in bed
lying flat on my back I’ll run in the

breeze, cross oceans, and seas –
before arthritis sets in my knees. Before
I’m lain in the ground I just have to
get around. No man can hold me down!

Push through the wind
I’ll climb unimaginable heights
Fall
Climb back again
I’ll believe
When they call me a fool
I’ll be green
In a world that’s yellow
I’ll swim in my tears and my sweat
before I let anyone convince me to stop
They can laugh
They can gawk
They can talk
But they’ll never have a handle on me
I’m determined as determined can be
And that is my purpose
My one true resolve
To go on
When the world shuts off
To shine
Even in the pitch dark
To dream
When my dreams seem unreachable
The brass ring isn’t made of brass
It’s made of glass
So, it can easily break
But my will is steel
One can never shake

you weep. You can’t cut me
loose. I’m yours. We can swim
oceans in the palm of my hands. I hear you
through the thunder as you're laying

on the sand. I'll build a raft, thick as
an army coat. I’ll paint it azure. Your tears,
the moat. My arms, the paddle. My love
is the castle. I’ll take you home.

as the roots hold the tree
as the tree holds the branches
as the branches hold the leaves
as the leaves provide the shade
to hold the robin’s nest
for the eggs that she laid

And I’ll set you free
as the tree does the leaves
when they’re no longer green
in the crisp air of autumn
as the robin does her babies
taught em how to fly
and this nest that’s been build
can be used another time

the clanking sound
at eleven o’clock searching in
the dark for a frying pan. The smell
of bacon and eggs, and thumping

legs taking the grub
back to his room, studying
all night and waking at noon. I’ll miss
the bedhead at two, as he stumbles

into the shower, and the hugs –
even though he towers over me,
at six-three. I’ll miss the kisses
as I leave to do the shopping. The laundry

will be light without all his shirts
he wears once, towels and socks. And I’ll
miss the talks on the couch as we’re
watching tv. But most of all I’ll miss the laughing!

the clanking sound
at eleven o’clock searching in
the dark for a frying pan. The smell
of bacon and eggs, and thumping

legs taking the grub
back to his room, studying
all night and waking at noon. I’ll miss
the bedhead at two, as he stumbles

into the shower, and the hugs –
even though he towers over me,
at six-three. I’ll miss the kisses
as I leave to do the shopping. The laundry

will be light without all his shirts
he wears once, towels and socks. And I’ll
miss the talks on the couch as we’re
watching tv. But most of all I’ll miss the laughing!

I’ll Never Be This Age Again

They ooh and ahh
fawn all over me
get excited when I say a word
clap their hands when I take a step
though I look absurd!
Walking like young Frankenstein
Diapers/sippy cups
Whine! Whine! Whine!

I’ll Never Be This Age Again
Santa Clause
The tooth fairy
Fairy tales
Make believe
Soiled clothes
Scraped knees

I’ll Never Be This Age Again
Broken hearts/hurtful words
a face full of pimples
greasy hair
an attitude that’s rude
**** and bras
tampons and pads
drinking and cursing
driving mom mad

I’ll Never Be This Age Again
Jobs and college
Cars and boys
Leaving home
Depression
Anxiety
Suicide watch
Just the cost
of growing up

I’ll Never Be This Age Again
Marriage
A house
And babies
Running around
like crazy

I’ll Never Be This Age Again
Fighting
Divorce
Affairs
Resentment
Anguish
Wrinkles
a thicker middle


I’ll Never Be This Age Again
Forgetfulness
Hot flashes
Sagging *******
and *****
Dreams left unfulfilled
Cancer
Heart disease
Funerals