I’m Not an Elf

on the shelf. I don’t need
you! I’ve got myself. I’ve hit
ground zero. But stopped looking for
a hero. I got my songs and my

rhymes. Not looking for hearts
and valentines. If they don’t like me
they can eat my *****. Because I stopped
caring. Boldly, I’m daring to tell you

I’ve been through hell, and come out
smelling new. I reinvent myself. Every
day I’m something else. And I won’t go
quietly. I’m a one-woman riot –
can’t you see?

men
through closed doors
Yes or no,
it's lost its lure.

I'm not chasing
castles in the air.
My feet are on the ground
and they're staying there.

I’m not chasing
rabbits down a hole.
I've changed the objective,
made another goal.

I'm not chasing
yesterday.
It's gone.
Time to move on!

Mickey Mouse
or Peter pan
Men like to hang
their head in la-la land

I'll not be silenced
or lured
not an illness
than can't be cured

I'm no Pollyanna
not restrained
like my nanna
that was trained
to smile
through all her pain

I'm not into chitter-chatter
reading and writing
is all that matters

I'm no poster child
runway model
just short and wild

that can be swept up or carried
away by the wind. And I’m more than
the body I’m in. I’m spirit of earth and
fire. I won’t stay where I am. I’m

going higher. I haven’t reached the place
where instead of the sun on my face I am
the light. And that light burns inside. And
radiates from my eyes. My eyes are candles

that glow from everything beautiful. A
kaleidoscope of fractured pieces comes together
and releases a translucent window that dances
in the shadows. I never will be hollowed as long

as I am followed. That’s where you’ll find me –
I’ll come up as poison ivy and ooze out of
your pores. That’s how I want to be remembered,
before the first frost of November.

that can be swept up or carried
away by the wind. And I’m more than
the body I’m in. I’m spirit of earth and
fire. I won’t stay where I am. I’m

going higher. I haven’t reached the place
where instead of the sun on my face I am
the light. And that light burns inside. And
radiates from my eyes. My eyes are candles

that glow from everything beautiful. A
kaleidoscope of fractured pieces comes together
and releases a translucent window that dances
in the shadows. I never will be hollowed as long

as I am followed. That’s where you’ll find me –
I’ll come up as poison ivy and ooze out of
your pores. That’s how I want to be remembered,
before the first frost of November.

to Paris.
Not flying
to Rome.
I’m not flying
a kite,
or as high.
I’m grounded -
My hands are tied
to my bones.

I get a little frustrated every time
I turn toward something that is not mine.
But I go on anyway.
That’s all I can do.
I’d rather be miserable in the pursuit.

I’m not giving up on something I love.
Hero’s aren’t made by wishes and plans.
It takes more effort than people understand.
But the effort is greater than any dream.
Because my efforts are shameless with no certainty.

I get a lot of things that I don’t want.
I guess I should be grateful for what I got.
But I’ve desires that won’t go away.
I used to think they were wrong.
So, I repressed them for far too long.

I’m not giving up on something I love.
Hero’s aren’t made by wishes and plans.
It takes more effort than people understand.
But the effort is greater than any dream.
Because my efforts are shameless with no certainty.

No one can say I didn’t at least try.
There’ll be no regrets when I die.
I stripped down and bared my soul.
It’s taken its toll.
But I go on anyway.
That’s all I can do.
I’d rather be miserable in the pursuit.

acquiescently.
If you pull my reins
I will buck.
If you use the crop
you’re going drop.


I’m not going
soberly.
I’ll kick my hoofs up
And throw you off
until you land in my water trough.


I’m not going
quietly.
I will snort; and I will neigh.
But I will never pull your sleigh.

at all! I might bear
a semblance around the oval
face and slanted eyes and bulbous
nose. And even if I've the curve of her hips,

bowlegs and painted red toes, and circle belly
that wiggles as I walk like jelly. And I might
scream and lose it once in a while I do not fit
her profile. And even if we measure the same

feet tall, and have the same chestnut, wavy hair
don't you dare say we're the same at all! If I'm
a jaded **** I'm not at all like that old ****. And if
we’ve lived in the same house for some of my years,

let me make this clear I'm not a bit like her. I'll not
deter from this I say, not now or another day. And
even if I've her DNA and her genes I'll tell you plain
as I've all others I'm not my mother.

babe, even if you see me
standing on the doorstep. I'm a half
step into another world. My breath's
hanging in the air and the wind

blowing through my hair is just
a visual of a woman caught on film,
the shutter of a camera lens. This scene
you capture and post diagnosed

in a still frame signing your last
name is a proxy. I'm in Greece and
in Spain, just stepped off the
plane. In a villa overlooking the sea,

sipping mimosas, eating brie, shaded
only by the palms. Just the thought
of it calms. No, I'm not here. Babe,
I'm upstairs.

for money.
That’s a joke.
I’m always broke.

I’m not in it
for love.
I’ve no such luck.
And I’m always stuck.

I’m not in it
for fame.
No one knows my name –
And that’s a losing game.

I’m in it
for me.
The only way to succeed –
is to do it for yourself

for four-leaf clovers
rainbows
or unicorns
no stars in these eyes
they’re open real wide

I’m not looking
on a happy-ever-after
a fairy-tale life
with castles and white knights

I’m not looking
outside
for answers
I’ll take my chances

I'm not looking
for a fix
no panacea
my idea of happiness
is fighting like a lion
sleeping like a bear
soaring like a falcon
high up in the air

by my body
it’s only skin and bones
a place to hang my clothes

I’m not shaped
by my scars
they’re not my calling card

I’m not shaped
by man’s opinion
it’s just his thoughts -
they’re often off

I’m not shaped
by money
success, or fame
it’s not where I am
it’s how I became

the girl that thought
his smile, a crescent moon.
Those eyes blue lagoons.
His cheeks rose petals strewn,

and danced to all his tunes. I'm not
the lady waiting for his calls. Biting
my nails as he stalls. Pacing the floor
till I leave ruts, for once I said enough’s

enough. I'm not the woman
up at night weeping in my pillow. My head
heaving in a smoky billow. My body's
plated as an armadillo. I'm the soldier

walking the mine fields, the warrior
refusing to yield. I'm not that girl. I
wield my torch as Lady Liberty, on my
front porch.

a dewdrop clinging to a leaf.
I'm a pearl that has grown teeth.
You plucked me from a rosy bloom,
tore me right from mother's womb.

I'm not a present, a box you wrap,
or a breast, a pheasant under glass.
Not a paper doll you cut out
with scissors along the dotted line.

I'm sleek and sweet as wine.
Not one to wilt and wither.
Not a piece of broken feather fluff
you stuff into a cotton pillow.

I'm not a floating cloud to billow.
Not a marionette rolling in sweat.
I'm a woman, fierce and strong.
not a pair of legs in a satin thong.

woman. But I’m pretty happy
with myself. I don’t have the most
slender figure. But I figure it doesn’t
matter. I’m not always right. But I

write always about it. Because I’m
not ashamed of who I am, what I’ve
done, even my wrongs. It’s all part of
being this thing called human. Perfection

isn’t part of it. And honey, I frankly
don’t give a **** –
or a rat’s *** about any such nonsense

you gave your heart to
the one that lays
next to you every night
the one you
pay the bills with
have the fights
the one you go on vacations
eat your dinners
and complain about your aches and pains
No

I’m not the woman
who sees you every morning
distorted and groggy before the coffee kicks in
when you’re disheveled and rushing
I wish I had been there before
but I was just sixteen
still in high-school and green
I didn’t know of life
had we met I would have been *******
You wouldn’t have liked me either
I was chubby
had a face full of acne
and greasy hair
And I was very shy; kept to myself most of the time
But the one thing I know that makes me smile
even if

I’m not the woman
who took vows with you
the one you make-love to
the woman in your bed
I am the woman
the one in your head

as a switch
of a light pointed
down. But I can sprint
off as a greyhound tracking

the scent of a rabbit or
a racing horse
at the post after lifting
the fence. I'm off course
and off my rocker. But don't you

knock me off my blocker! I'm off
duty. Some say I'm off,
that I'm just fruity! I run off
at the mouth. And men don't like

my offhand comments. They often
say it makes them *****. I’m off
center, and off the mark.  And if
it suits me I'll blow you off!

I stay on the top
and spread out. I will not
mix into what’s there. Why blend
in? To get lost and disappear. Some

call me greasy, Some, slick. I come
out fast. And pour on thick. If you
try to dress me with others
I’ll separate. Some say I’m crude –
I think I’m great!

to nowhere. Want to come along?
I’m not sure of where we’re going or
if we’ll ever get off. They don’t make
stops on this train. But there are windows

to look through and watch
the rain. You can put on some music
and zone out if you please. You can lean
your head against the glass and

get dizzy. It’s a blur as we pass. Things
don’t take shape. The colors bleed together. There is
no escape.  It feels monotonous. And you get
easily tired. The days string together like birds

on a wire. If only I was a feather I
could drift away. But my face is like leather
and my hair is turning grey. I sit as a stone
all alone on splintered wood, that jabs me

in the leg. But I’ve lost circulation. So, I
don’t notice. I’m morose as burnt toast. Yet I keep
moving, on a one-way track to nowhere. Tell me
when we get there. Wake me up if  I’m sleeping.

a circular belt
looping around till
the days melt,
into chirping crickets

and hooting owls.
And through the thickets
the coyote growls.
The pitter-patter

of the rain.
The chipmunks scatter.
And I strain,
in this position

with no spot of commission.
My pen is dripping wet.
My paper full
of epithet.

Running on dregs
as me.
Drinking red grapes
under the old oak tree.

Life is a painted blur,
of plotted events,
mislaid detours
and accidents.

can’t leave the premises. You ask
my crime. My crime is that I could
be carrying a deadly virus. I can’t see
anyone. I can’t do anything. These four

walls are my prison. And they’re small,
smaller than I had envisioned since
I’ve been confined. I’m going out of my
mind. I’m writing a new book. But the

bookstore informed me they’re
closed. I already have a stack of the old
ones sitting on my dining room table. I shower,
**** and shave. Eat, drink and think. I’m

headed for an early grave. I make videos –
private parts like Howard Stern to entertain
men. But it brings me unwanted attention. All
I want is my freedom back. Is that too much to ask???

up to my neck
in ***** dancing in blue
with my back to the neighbor
so close he is like

the bile swimming in style
in my digestive tract. I ran out here
when I  entered home from
the laundromat to soak up

the sun of another day murdered
without ado but for clean
clothes. I’m so drunk
when the pizza arrives. It's no

surprise as I do.

with these tears
you can see your reflection in their shine

I wash down the sheets
when I cry in my sleep

I water the flowers outside

I boil the spaghetti in them
no need for salt in the ***

and there’s enough left over
to wash the dishes,
even the crusted-on spots

as a ball
of yarn
I grow smaller
as I unravel

I’m Pulled
as a sleigh
I make tracks
in the snow

I’m Pulled
as a door handle
I swing
on my hinge

not a worker
a queen without a king
every line I smoke
must rhyme
I’ll drive out the verse
and bring down the house
they’ll say I am terse
when they see I don’t use much
to get the job done
a ******, four fingers and
a thumb

to fall
but slow to leave
just as sap on the tree
I bleed amber honey

I’m quick
to jump
but slow to think
just as a frog
in a blink
I make a splash

I’m quick
to carry
all this weight
but slow to empty
what’s on my plate

I’m Ready

I’ll seek to find you where you are
And stay with you there
Even if this place is painful to sit and ponder
I won’t go yonder
If you’re not ready for it
And if this is where we are and not that
I won’t push you
I only come to understand the how we got
To where we land
Open to interpretation
Never to resignation
The great wide-open
Where possibilities are limitless
Beyond the horizon
No surprise then
If I fall off into a dream
I’m ready

to make a change
to start again
to face the challenges
and the fears
to let go of the past
to forgive
to stop making excuses
to do what needs to be done
to get out of my comfort zone
to let go of bitterness
and the obstacles
that I’ve put out –
the hurtful feelings
the nagging doubts

I’m ready
to take this chance
to make myself vulnerable again
to be a fool
to ask you to do so too
to compromise
to have compassion
to be kind
to invent new ways
to be together
to have fun
to be free
to take this old heart
out of the storage freezer
and thaw it out
in the heat of your love

scared
out of time
out of steam
out of breath
out of hope
out of dreams
into brick walls
over hurdles
away

like sap from the maple
tree. You tapped into the core
of me. I poured myself out
to you under skies of cornflower

blue.  Runny as a stuffy nose,
the kind you like to blow. Pushed
out like a sneeze. You always were
a tease. Runny as dripping ice

cream from a sugar cone, sticking
to your hand, in your lap I land. Melting
as the April snow. Runny as shampoo
in the shower, down your face

across your chest, your back
and legs, a foamy dress. As I swirl
my way down the drain I'm less
and less.

of you second-guessing me
he said. He sounded perturbed
on ever word.

I’m sick
of your rage
he told me before. But if he
lived the violent life I had
he’d have some rage for sure.

I’m sick
of being lovesick
over you. Sick of you making
promises that you never kept. Always
saying that you’d be there –
then left
fighting to get back
a semblance that was

I’m sick
because I relied on you
and then
you broke my heart


I’m sick
of being sick
and never
getting fixed!!

And I'm too sick to start!

to the same place I always
end up with you. I’m sick of
staying stuck, thinking we’re doing
better when we’re not. I’m sick of

going back to the same old excuses
that we both been using. We’re a bad
habit without the high. It’s time to ask
myself why I’m staying in this. I wear

my anguish like my lipstick – thick
My heartstrings become a dipstick for
measuring the pain. Tears connect like beads
on a chain.  The spell’s been broken a long

time ago. I came back after I let go. It was
a bad decision. They are the only kind I make,
for the sake of keeping the status quo. Why?
Who the **** knows!

licorice sticks and candy
canes. Brandy rivers running in
my morning coffee. Bleeding all
the colors out, fermented as
the sauerkraut.

I'm sobbing
stilettos and razor blades,
shaving years off my face. I'm
thick stubble, falling bits
of stone rubble.

I'm sobbing
ropes and chain. My
lashes are made of thick
black leather, whipping me
as they fall together.

I'm sobbing
shards, splintered
wood in my backyard. Treading
my face like a tire. Burning
my eyes in the smoky fire.

I'm sobbing
rocks. The salty drops
have hardened to
stone. They circle around
like a flying drone.

by men that held the door
for me. Now walked out of it when I
was down.  The men that held me
in their arms now hold me in

contempt. I’m spent as a ******,
after it's used.  Cupid has me
confused! The same satin smile
that sang lullabies is now making up

alibis.  I'll not chase butterflies
painted in satin lies. Men
muscular and handsome come with
a high-price ransom. And I've paid it

with my life, weeping
days and sleepless nights. Found myself
full throttle, floating in the bottom
of a bottle. Sparkling eyes that looked

with reverie now cut right through me. Hands
that cupped my face now slap it. I gave up
the chase!

the green ground is
sky. I’m down in
the sewers,
the bowels of life,

a hole the rats
run rampant. Here I camp and
walk in the dank. The stench is
alarming in this waste-filled

tank. I haven’t seen
light after I fell in. I couldn’t tell
you exactly when. But I slipped
in like a mickey drink. At first

I'm flushed by this kink. The pain is
familiar. But I, bigger this
round. Too big for man to pull me
out of myself. So, I drowned.

I’m Somebody! Who are you?
Are you-Somebody too?
Are they aware of us!
Do tell! They’ll gossip-oh well!

How hum-drum-to be-Nobody!
How private-like a clam
To hide in the sand -your entire life-
To not be admired for who I am
Would be to throw away a life

I'm rid of men.
I'd rather have paper and pen.
I'd rather my feet planted on ground.
I don't like my head spinning around.

I'm so glad
I've burst this bubble.
All it did was cause me trouble.
Now my eyes see clear the day.
Now I don't get in my way.

I'm so glad
to sleep so sound.
Not tied/not bound
to some romantic notion.
Not weeping oceans
and drowning on dreams.
Serenity instead of screams.

I'm so glad
I kicked the habit.
All the years I tried to grab it.
Clutching and clawing what wasn't mine
only to find he wasn't worthy of me.
Glad to leave a fading memory.

like the cow over the moon
like the horse jumping the hurdle
you make my blood curdle
like an athlete vaulting the high bar
I've pushed you out of my head this far

I’m so over you
like a skydiver descending in a parachute
flying in the air
everything’s little up here

I’m so over you
I tell myself over and again
we aren't friends
and go to the ends of the earth
to show it
but sometimes I just blow it

from the winter storm
that cut me down.
Now I’ve thorns
I wear as crowns.
A fallen tree,
my bark stripped.
Now I’ve quills to fill
the holes
since I tipped.
No one wants a pointed edge,
broken stock,
a spiky hedge.

cold as New England
winters. Fallen like wood from
an axe in shards shaped and
sharp as tacks in my back

yard. My pieces are pine
needles spread over a patch of
yellow blanket. Cause I look like
litter to the fox and the hound

as they go. I dry to a dullish
brown and blend in with the ground
as the sun thawed the snow. Men
trod with boots and squirrels

paw with their claws, leaving me
turned up as autumn leaves. I
bottom out in the eaves. A paste of
mud and stick is me.

the word
like the wings of a bird
and it'll take flight
spreading it like
a quilt on the bed
on a cold grey night

I'm spreading
the seed
all over this land
performing the deed
with woman hands

I'm spreading
this memoir
near and by far
making it stick
like strawberry jam
to the sides of the jar

I'm spreading
my pelvis
birthing this babe
pushing it out
with gusto and sage

If I were water
I’d vapor
as I boil
I would taper

If I were paper
I’d float
till I became
completely soaked

If I were cheese
I’d curdle
like bulging fat
stuff in a girdle

If I were wood
I’d splinter
turn to mulch
come the winter

If I were rock
I’d roll alone
be nothing more
then a rolling stone

I’m steel
strong and shiny
tough enough
to face an army

you can pull
the shades down
that will make it
dark inside
you can tell yourself –
No
Never
Not
and that might satisfy
your intellect
but curiosity
will grab you
by those hairy *****
and hurl you out
the window
I’ll be waiting
for you then –
but you won’t need
encouragement

as a rubber band
wrapped around my hand
digging deep into the skin
cutting off circulation

I’m stretched
as cherry glossy taffy
bubbled and buttered
that’s why I’m daffy
the ingredients in the mix
turned me into this

I’m stretched
out as a sheet
I have wrinkles
no pleats
I’m tossed on
and pulled
soiled in
and spilled

I'm stretched
as a fisherman's net
that's why I catch
all that lands
in the strands

I’m stretched
of my imagination
I turn snowflakes into stars
eat them as candy bars
so, I’m lit
as of now I haven’t quit

pulled, glossy
and sweet. A candy
men like to eat. I’m just
a confection. Upon inspection

I dissolve
as I'm chewed up. I've revolved
in an orbit of infested sick men,
that like honey wrapped up
in clear packaging. A new flavor

to savor, cherry and honeydew,
strawberry, blueberry chews. I’m stuck
in a sticky mess. Pounding it out
every morning, no less. But it's my job -

sugary, sticky colorful glob!

like a child learning to
tie his shoelaces. Like a ***
of crowded spaghetti. Like a ball
of yarn the cat clawed. Like my wavy

hair as I brush it out. Tangled up
as the thoughts in my head, I blurt
from my mouth. Just like a fisherman’s line
on the weeds, or a kite’s

string in the trees. Tangled as the clog
in my bathtub, or my necklaces that are
in knots, thrown in the drawer. In this mumbled,
jumbled mess of tangling I find myself sparkling

from the twists and turns, knots and
mats. The muddles and snarls only make
me smile. And to straighten them out
would leave me flat.

Yesterday’s mistakes are hung
in the back of your closet, as if they were
a fashion faux pas. You grew out them. But there

they still are, taking up space as the newer ones
keep piling on. Something to replace
a memory, crafty as the paperweight you made

in grade school. You took a rock from your empty
garden. Painted it the colors of a rainbow. But it
didn’t fool anyone. It was still a rock. Even when

you glued the piece of felt on the bottom. So, when you
placed it down it didn’t make a sound. That way
it couldn’t disrupt your thoughts. But the felt wore

off. And the paint faded away. Now you store it
on the shelf in your closet, another one
of your famous mistakes.

a fledgling
dawning as the sun
selling everyone
with my melodic song

puffing out my red breast
flapping my feathered wings
trying to impress
the bonny spring

trying to soar
like the osprey
lift off this grassy floor
with no man

to teach me
so, I'm robbing
like a bee
out of amber honey

and bobbin to the beat
of car horns
in the ***** city street
a baby bird is born

of his cigarette
a menthol smoke silhouette
circling his wet crimson lips
with just the tip between
his stained crooked teeth
he ***** me hard
till I'm charred
pulling me out
with his ***** yellow nail fingers
I linger there as he speaks
growing smaller on the exhale
I wail cause I remember when
I was white and clean
but now
bent and twisted
a stump in a metal tray
where all his other smokes lay
among the ashes
in a blanket of powdery gray
I smolder
old and colder
my fire snuffed
on his last puff