up the tree. I got here; how
I don’t know. On my own accord as such,

but now I found myself stuck. I’m as
stuck as a *** of gum that’s been hardened

underneath the eaves of the desk. Forgotten once
classes have ended. They’ve all descended through

halls and long corridors, springing like juniper
bugs out the back and front doors. I resound

out enough to scare every critter on earth within
an earshot of my plea. Yet no one rescues me.

I’m a fractured line
when it comes to you.
I’m the cracks
And you’re the glue.

Am I reaching for stars
instead of shells on the beach?
Looking up that the clouds
instead of what’s down at my feet?

I was born broken,
had a schizophrenic father
who fell off the deep end.
And a mother that beat me
with a metal spatula,
until I flipped as a pancake.
Burnt on both sides.
But raw in the middle.
An only child, that knew little.

I’m a fractured line
when it comes to you.
I’m the cracks
And you’re the glue.

people aiming for my center –
throwing their steely blades
not that far from face
thinking they’ll ******* score a win
if they get their little ****** in
but this woman has a trick or two
she’s Not going for another corkscrew

in your Ferrari
as well as all your plans
I’m afraid I’ve led you into this depression

I’m a punch in the gut
I dug a rut non-stop to your heart
so, I can come and go as I want

a hand-bell choir ringing in your ears
the five-alarm fire that dances a waltz
through the fibers of your body hair

you shave them off
but I’m the stubble that grows back thick
the cleft in your chin undecided

as to which way it’s going
so ambivalent that it could split
your face in two without the knowledge
of your knowing

I’m a crater
Some call me the moon
An invader, worse than the bacteria

in your pores
it would take a forklift to get me out
and if you did, I’m a spore that would reproduce
start all over again

and he's the *****. He stuck out
like a toe with gout, red and round
with a swollen head. I turned him so
often, he lost his thread. I wanted to

hang my portrait on him. But I gave
my life to him. The picture didn't fit
the frame. The wall cracked and the plaster
chipped. And the shank sunk in

like it had been clipped. A silver spot
looking like a dime that had no purpose
and had no rhyme. I couldn't pull him
out. He was stripped. And so was I.

people turn to
when they’re troubled
and all alone
when they’ve no friends of their own
when they’re fat and grossly overweight
when they have medical problems
too much on their plate

I’m the friend
they call
when they need to scream
when their boyfriend is being mean
when they’re waiting for results from a test
when their sad and lonely
when their depressed

I’m the friend
who listens
and offers encouragement
who tells them
everything will be alright
in the end

I’m the friend
they forget about
when they don’t need me
when they lost the weight
and found a lover
and are healthy

of the bread
the thick part at the end
everybody discards
some men feed to the ducks
I’m just a piece of crust
But I hold the whole frigging loaf

I’m the heel
of the foot
a cracked, dried bottom
people walk on
not the shiny, painted toes
that everybody shows
But I’ve soul

I'm the heel
some men say
a punk with junk
a stinging ray
a callous mutt
so, they say
but I aren't I tough!

I’m the heel
of the red high shoe
the stiletto
that raises woman’s view
I make them taller
when they’re smaller
I make them ****
men get apoplexy
and swoon

you’re the button.
If I didn’t wrap
myself around you
there’d be nothing to hold

onto.  You’re my safety
pin. They’d be gaps. Nothing to protect
my skin, on those very cold, windy
days. I’m just a cut-out notch that

hangs loose and open. You’re
firmly held in place. Everyone sees
your face. But when we join
my hole is filled, secured around

you. I need you to
complete me. We fit together
perfectly. It’s the way
we were both made to be.

and you were the mold
that I went and poured myself
into and formed
but as I formed, I hardened

I put myself on
the fire
and turned into
a hot liquid liar

looking for
another mold
to shape myself in
one that won’t harden
one that’s translucent
and pure
one that’s
softer
than before

one that fits
my own skin
one that is
the one
I’m in

that eats snowflakes for breakfast
collects empty bird’s nests
paints pine cones and hangs them as ornaments
and cockle shells on the beach
skinny-dips
and potato-chips with whipped cream
catching frogs
sitting on logs and thinking of –

the kind of boy
that could eat snowflakes for breakfast
and enjoy the beauty in an empty bird’s nests
and painting pine cones for the tree
picking up cockle shells on the beach
and skinny-dipping with me
eating potato-chips with whipped cream
who wouldn’t mind catching frogs
and sitting on logs thinking –
wouldn’t it be nice if we meet?

I am right now,
not the me
of yesterday
That me is gone forever.
Will I get her back?
Never.
I can only have compassion
for who she was.
Not be too ******* her
because
she didn’t know
what she does
Now.

I'm the me
I am creating –
I am a process
in the making
So, forgive the flubs.
Don’t dub
me elusive.
I haven’t perfected
Myself –
Yet.
That me
is inconclusive.

of shiny black
on the pouty leopard’s jowl
the blue fungus on the cheese
smelling foul

I’m the spot
playing hopscotch
with your eyes
the splotch of ink
on the crisp stationary
that runs through the pages
as it dries

I’m the spot
of blood on your face
from a razor’s cut
the burnt mark on the floor
from a cigarette ****

I’m the spot
on your pressed
white Saint Laurent
that fades in the wash
but won’t wear off
the phlegm you spit up
from your nagging cough

I'm the spot
of yellow
on the first winter snow
a particle of dust
as the wind bows

I’m not the light.
I’m not the dark.
I’m the switch
you turn on
or off.

I’m not your friend.
I’m not your enemy.
I’m the thought
in your head
that gives you
no relief.

on the cake. I’m the icing;
I’m the frosting. I’m the first
they see when they look. I make
their mouths water. I come in an array

of colors and designs. I’m the zigzags
and swirls, waves and peaks, from plain
to elite. Their tongues hand down to
their feet. Some use their fingers

to poke into me, to have a taste
as to what will be when they cut into
this. Pure bliss. Some children just want
the creamy, sweet goodness on top.

living inside my shell
living in this hell
moving slowly
seeing everyone pass me

still traveling the same road
carrying this heavy load
but moving toward my dreams

no windows or doors
holes in my floors
ground scorching heat
burning the soles of my feet

the journey is long
gotta hold strong
when all you pack
is riding on your back

that sharpened them.  Every
time they rubbed against my grit
their silver blade cut just a bit. The cool
in me turned them to steel. I built

a tower I cannot feel. They shred
the lines so thin into turpentine
and gin. I laid colorful as chalk
as they carved upon an empty

block. How many times can I
sharpen them till they inched their
way up my hem. On a  blooming spree
they stung me, like the honey bee. Now

my eyes are sandpaper, and my stare
a skyscraper. No longer cool, but
burning brush from scraping metal,
and steaming like a hot tea kettle.

to the past
I visit it every day in my thoughts
it’s the most expensive trip I’ve ever took
and I never left
and I fear I’m never getting off
I’ve made all the stops
revisited the places
they all have changed
but something hasn’t
and something never will –
until I come back home to you
but don’t call
just leave the lights on

of fighting back
getting less
Tired of black
Pitching white
spotting grey
throwing light
getting nay
the stain
stays
remains
Nothing for
Nothing or
Nothing
Not
NO
O

a bed to spread the cheese. I don’t like
being stacked with all the rest. I should be
served only to the best.  I break into pieces
when I’m tossed inside a cardboard

box. I’d be lox, a smoky orange-
pink fillet. Sweet, smooth, and shiny. Not
crummy. Cured and plated on Bone red China
for the grandest diner that savors the brine and

smiles as if I'm a satiny shiny fleet. Not just
a snack of wheat that sits as a Ritz served to campers
for a treat. Or placed in rows as dominos looking
like clones. That's not for me!

I want to change this
same old predictability
day after day
with nothing different
except maybe the weather
same old pattern
nothing new happening
no surprises
I’m not excited
by flowers
and bees
concrete streets
the trash collectors
collect the trash
the mailman
delivers the mail
the dogs bark
the neighbor’s kid squeals
I go out the front door
come back the same way
same ****
different day
you say be grateful
count my blessings
I’m breathing in
polluted air
swimming in
corroded beaches
living in
a world
of diseases
where people seldom smile
keep to themselves
I know not of them
or myself
the only one I talk to
is my remote
to change the channel

My mouth is dry. My smile slides
off as rain on the trough.  My tongue's
wrung as a sponge. My cheeks

are hollow. I've swallowed heaps of
loss. I'm about to toss my cookies. Men
only look at the rookies. My cherry-bomb

lips have slipped up a on ***** and rhyme,
on when and lime. Still, I bait my pen with
who and how. And what and where

hang in the air as a stormy cloud. I prep them
with lemon and thyme, sage and line. But the years
haven't shone on me, not even grown on me.
They’re all a broken bough.

the chrysalis
and not the butterfly
too much the cracked shell
not the cygnet inside

I’m too much
the fallen leaves
not the branches on the trees
to much the yellow weeds
not the grass surrounding these

I’m too much
a joke
not the punchline
just a runny yolk
spoiling the egg-whites

to pretend anymore. Too many
years wearing the fake smiles, along
with the skirts and button-up blouses
with heels that gave me bunions that

hurt following other people’s wishes –
what they thought was best
for me. When I got dressed in
the morning I wasn’t sure who was

leaving the house, who rode on the
train and was chatting it up
up with the boss. And when I came
home and started preparing the dinner

on the stove I didn’t know
why. I just wanted take-out
tonight. And when the alarm clock
growled in my ear the next morning

making me do it all over again
I never question it. I just arose
out of my bed like the dead and went
to my desk and typed on the letter- head

whatever it was that the boss wanted
for the day just to collect the pay that
went toward the bills but never seemed to
be enough. Because they kept piling up.

too angry to speak
the tears all dried
nothing’s left to leak

I’m too hurt to move
the scars run deep
nothing’s left to prove
and I’m too weak

to fly
as an albatross
in an ocean sky.
But drowning
on a sandy shore,
picking at an apple core.

I'm trying
to swim
as a salmon
in the air.
But can't lift my weight
off this red velvet chair.

I'm trying
to grow
a castle in the clouds.
My head is floating
as a balloon.
But crowds
are tying me down
with their silver spoon.

I'm trying
to lift off
as a rocket.
But this stone
sits heavy
in my pants pocket.

before the birds
going down on ****
knocking socks off

I’m up
before the sunrise
making **** rise
can’t wear a mask
for my task!

there are many holes in me
and I bleed out tears easily

through red-drawn eyes
that disguise themselves in

blue shadow and raven wing
that drop down as spaghetti

and this thing in my chest
is now a machete

on a rope because there’s
a hole in the bottom of me with
a line cast inside to the core. And my hand
holds the bar I set for myself and

as I work myself up into
a lather, and dwindle in size over
time, until there’s more rope
than there is me. That’s when I hang

myself mercilessly.

somewhere, maybe in
my navel. Maybe it’s entwined
in my hair. Wherever it is you
pulled it. And when you did what

you did I started coming
undone. I spun around your little
finger until there was more of me
in your hand and less of me

on these bones. And the more I
gave up of myself the more
I felt alone. Because you had it all,
the very best part. I just became

a ball of yarn, en masse. I couldn’t
separate from you. You took my string
and pulled. And when I tried to get
out I became entangled in myself.

I’m Venus

Stop
treating me
like a wasp
because my home
is made of paper
I’ve collected
enough pulp
to build a castle
of thoughts
my eyes are
stained-glass windows
this indelible ink
is the moat
these words
are
water lilies
that float
on top

to tapering off
I won’t shatter
I won’t fall
I’ll just float away is all.
I won’t break
like others do
I’ll just flake off
into layers –

as chips of paint
that still hold on
but at the same time
come undone
like a splinter of wood
that sticks out
from the frame
so, it’s noticeable
but not part and parcel

that slowly filled with
marbles.  I got heavy from the
weight. The more I filled up the
less room there was for

the essentials. But I put
my trust in no one, no matter
his credentials. Until you came along
with life-affirming water and filled up

the holes between the marbles. And then
continued up the sides until  
the bottom was far behind. And all one could
see when looking through me was the water.

burning out as this day,
fading into the backdrop because
you’ve no shade. Your phone is
always nearby. It sticks to your ribs

as warm apple pie. Everyone relies
upon you as much as they do the sun
and the moon. What can I say? You’re
the stars in their eyes, the light of their

lives. This earth would dry out and crack
if it didn’t have you. It’s a lot on one
man’s back. Always the open door. You
never take in the welcome mat.

I got into my car and drove
to his place. It was a dark and cold October night
when I crashed into a woman’s car that was
out of my sight. I didn’t stop and pull over. So, she

followed me down Main Street to his home. The
lights in his office where on. He was seeing
a patient. I’m surprised when he didn’t hear the sirens
blaring right outside his window. The woman I hit

called the police. I was so drunk;
I thought I was done. Not a scratch on my Red
Rio. The policeman walked around the vehicle a few times,
surprised. He asked me to roll down my window. I thought

for sure he was going to take me in. He only gave me
a warning “don’t leave the scene of an accident”
And then they all left, the woman whose car I totaled
and the policeman. I got out of the car in a

drunken daze. I couldn’t remember his front
gate. I must have walked around the place several
times before I found the latch to let me in at last. It must
have been a guardian angel that night that saved my life.

of zebras
I’m a stallion
a red-hot blooded Italian
my stripes don’t brand me
strong as brandy
I kick up dust

In a world
of dark clouds
I’m a bolt of lightning
Look out!
I’m striking

In a world
of blooming roses
I’m a thorn
I’ll husk you
as an ear of corn

In a world
of compromise
I’ll not acquiesce
I'll stand my ground
as men aggress

no man has a voice.  Circling
like smoke rings blown from
the mouth of a cigarette. Men
flattened against the wall like

a silhouette. Painted like a port
wine stain on a face that none
see. The train on the platform
takes leave.  The traffic and the

horns. People talking into their
phones. Cars running red lights, police
sirens and medflights. Billboards
on top of large buildings. Children

fastened in their seats and
screaming. Jackhammers digging up
the ground. The pounding of a migraine
in the head. Not a word is said. And it spreads –

Silence

everything is stark
as night. White is
blinding. And black
falls fast. When you’re on
the pedestal you’re a missile.

In a world with no color
there is no horizon, just a line
that defines them.

In a world with no color
you split into splinters as trees
in the winter. Walking on a ground
of broken glass. Weeping shards
that choke the pass.

In a World with no color
red is rust, blue is dead. And green
has turned to straw. There is no
thaw.

I’m going to wrap myself up as your present
in bows and pretty ribbons.
I’m going down to my local post office
and get myself a little green sticker.
I feel the excitement in the air getting thicker.
I’ll have my own special number.
Just for your convenience,
as a woman of heart and lenience.
And when I arrive at your doorstep
you’re going to have to sign on the dotted line,
before I can claim you as mine.
At that precise moment when the delivery guy leaves
you’ll take me in and unwrap me with impish glee.
I hope you like your present.
I put a lot of effort into it.
I’ve been waiting all year just to give it to you.
Please take good care of it.
It was the last one; and it doesn’t come with a refund.

at the center
of a burnt down forest. I walk barefoot
among the char. The smell of death
circling me as halo. I’ve been singed. But I forget

the burning.  I see whiffs of smoke
poke their tales out of holes in the ground. I think
of them as squirrels. But when I look
all is still. It’s only a murmur

of uncertainty. The faint light
plays hide and seek. I try to follow it. But it leads
me to more fallen trees that have blackened
and blended with the leaves.

I need a better world
where eyes embrace,
and tongues are held.
Love need not chase
when hearts are swelled.

I need a better world
where thoughts are still,
and arms are open.
Each person has will
to put their hope in.

I need it now,
before it’s never.
Let’s take a vow
for this endeavor.

or I’ll break. Something
needs to roll my way. Something

needs to come from this. All I am
this is. I give you everything. I bring

you my heart for you to carve it up. I
give you spirit in every line before

I have mine. I bring you honesty and
Truth. But I’m starting to feel used. I

bleed profusely on each line. I cry alone
all the time. The loneliness of the gift

is showing its wear – but no one here
is aware.

not a room full of strangers in a cold church
basement passing around a basket –
looking for donations and reading from
a book about the etiquette

of sobriety. I want to run to you –
not to meetings were ticking time bombs sit
telling tales of ****** wars soon forgotten
the next morning. I want to hold you –

not the bottle. I want to look forward to
your call, not another afternoon of heavy
drinking. Even through lapses of memory I
haven’t forgotten what it was that you did

for me. I hope you understand
this. I slipped and turned to a liquid form for
help. And now that you are back, I need
to tell you how I cut myself down, to just a stump

that people plant their ***** on. I need a
friend, not just anyone. I need someone who loves
me as I am. And that’s not a very easy thing
to do. Because we both know I’m difficult and

complicated on my best days. But this bleeding heart
is so doused in 100 proof that the slightest ray from
the sun could set it ablaze. It won’t take a lot. I promise;
just a little love. Love does amazing things
to heal this woman’s long suffering.

someone to listen
to me. And these guys
profession is to listen. I’m just
a lonely middle-aged

woman who needs someone
to lean on, someone who
cares. Someone other than
a bottle. A man in a chair who looks

at me tenderly and allows me
to speak, who isn’t wrapped up in himself
like everyone else that I meet. Someone who
doesn’t ask what bra size I wear or who

is secretly thinking about my underwear,
or what it would taste like or how it
would feel to get inside of it. That’s why
I’m attracted to psychologists.

I Need a June Bug

to rub me
a slick of luck. Hanging
down
as willow tree
sweeping dust
underneath my leaves
living in the shade
skimming the surface
without purpose
drooping
blowing
in the wind
a living umbrella
blocking the sun
from my eyes
sick of the façade
and one more tries
wanting to crawl
out of the hole
burrowing as a mole
in the dank tunnels
of life
not as myself
but somebody’s wife

in crime –
one who isn’t afraid to
to get caught.
It’s the thrill of the chase,
not the fear of the thought.

I need a partner
for fun –
one who isn’t afraid
to let loose.
It’s the freedom of will,
to be your own duce.

I need a partner
to love –
one who isn’t afraid
to hand me their heart.
Will let me play it again,
just like Bogart.

to comfort me
tell me it’s going to be alright
to share my thoughts and dreams
and listen
kiss my tears
hold my pieces together
when I’m breaking
don’t take lightly my feelings
be my hero
bring out the better in me
when I fold from this pressure
be my spirit guide
inspire me to go onward
walk by my side
through this journey
when I’m sick
be my balm
but give me enough space to grow
let me be my own person
without asserting your opinions
love me as a woman
an equal
your partner
your friend
it’s a very lonely life
to go it all alone
Everyone needs someone
to share the load

where the trees are
my home. No walls or
doors/no ceilings or floors. The dirt
between my toes. A scent of pine

dancing under my nose. The wind
blowing my hair. A log for my
chair. The bellowing of the bullfrog. Sedges
and heaths by the bog. The tat-tatting

of the woodpecker. No hat or
coat checkers. No small talk
where men flock to gawk at woman
in pairs. The azure sky and country

air. Woody vines/not long lines
or the weight of a heavy stare. No red satin
dresses. Here you won’t find stresses. The only
thing running is the river. A sliver of paradise

without a price. And the stars don’t sue/just shine
in a paisley-colored sky.

because everything is something
when you love someone. The colors
shine as diamonds. The earth moves
under your feet. Water tastes like

champagne. Honey accumulates
from inside your ruddy cheeks. Every day
is summer at the beach. You hear harpsichords,
the ocean crashing at your door. Your

head is spinning cartwheels from
the day before. Our bodies are made to fit
together. I receive you through my tunnel of love -
sugarcoated walls of tiramisu. The clouds are

vanilla ice-cream. But you won’t be
needing a spoon. There’s music and laughter
coming from every room. You’re hokey as
a character in an old cartoon.

radically different
to induce change. I need to
start today. There have been
too many todays
where I’ve said
this
and did
nothing.
Today got to be
the today
I do something.

just a few days –
No videos
No screens
Only wreaths you wear
around the neck
The only ties
are the ropes
between the trees
that hold a rainbow bed
The blue sky
the canopy
Book it –
Danno!