I Need to Get Back

to the place
the place before all this
the place of innocence and bliss
A time where happiness could exist
in true simplicity

Where I could reach out
as well as reach in
Things were talked out,
kind words were spoken
Forgiveness was used
not as a tool,
but in every sense of the word, true

Hang-overs were for drinkers,
not for leverage
Getting something out on the table
that wasn’t edible
but enabled communication
and better understanding

The only thing covering up
is the cotton table cloth
Sweetness is not only in
the blueberry jam,
but in the essence of
who you and I am.

these habits
as the trees do the leaves
in autumn
some things need to be forgotten

I need to shed
these thoughts
as a snake sloughs off its skin
as a hermit crab discards its old shell
it’s time that I learn to rebel

I need to shed
some people
as my cat sheds its fur on my carpet
it collects in a ball
of dust and dirt on the floor
its no use to us anymore

when I’m in anguish
and uncertain. I’ve been hurting
and confused. These days I sing
the blues. I don’t know which
way things will go. I blow hot and
cold. First, it’s on. Then it’s off. I’m turned
more times than a doorknob. I don’t know
which direction I’m headed in. I’ll stay here
for now, till I sort it out. My body will tell
me when the time is ready. And I will trust in
my gut to get me out of this rut. No one
likes staying stuck.

like the blanket in my closet
because even in the summer it gets
cool at night

I need you like the bathroom towel
when I step out of the shower
dripping wet I need to have something
soft and warm to wrap around my body

I need you like my underwear
nobody can see how you cling to my every curve
and collect all my feminine moisture
your hidden from view but hold me in place
and I need a place to be held - always

not when it’s convenient
for you. You don’t feed a stomach
when it’s full. You don’t call the doctor
when you’re well. When someone is lost

in the dark you don’t look under
the light. When someone is suicidal you don’t
wait for a convenient time. You let me down
when I needed you the most. When I fell

where were your arms to catch me? When I
needed someone to stop me from hurting
myself where was your soothing voice to talk
me out of it? Am I just an afterthought –

thinking its someone else’s problem,
someone else can deal with her. After all she’s
just a ******, not a person to be heard.

permission. This is my decision.
If I want my hair purple and my lips
black then that’s the way it is. There’s
no need to ask who it offends. The ones

that only matter are my friends. And I
only choose friends that are accepting
of me the way I am. Accepting my flaws
and idiosyncrasies, my moods and peculiarity –

especially my originality, which is maddening
to most. I can be cutthroat and evil. I can be
slapstick and wacky. I can be provocative and
wanton. And with most I don’t get along. But

you’ll never hear me asking for nothing. I’m
nobody’s muffin. I’m a fierce warrior, in miniskirts
and combat boots on the loose! Don’t confuse me
with someone who gives a ****. I am as I am.

No Excuses/No Pretense - I never ask permission

but I think I’ll die
if I can’t have you
by my side
I’ve got no soul
every day I cry
and at night
I can’t sleep
I wet
all the sheets
with my tears
as I stare
into the black
thinking
of ways
of getting you
back

I walked away numb
A guitar you cannot strum
The strings are plucked from the wood
There’s no engine under this hood
I reported the feelings void emotion
Did so in slow motion
But wouldn’t allow myself to feel them
We know what feelings do
They make people change their behavior
People believe them to be true
I never did trust them
Fickle as the weather
Pulling people apart/bringing others together
Made an intelligent man a beggar
They never last, this convergency
But act as an all-fire emergency
Conjuring up regret and destruction
Oh, there are soft ones cascading like the willow
I lay upon my pillow
They let me breathe and see the green in green
But they are fleeting as a “let’s do coffee meeting”
And Love?
Webster says it’s an intense feeling
One of them - No
Do not hold love as such
In as much as it mimics them - true
But I would never trust a feeling
Would you?

by doing what I was supposed
to, by following all the rules. I had
to buck convention, use my imagination
to get to this point. I had to lose

a lot of family and friends. I had to
stand on my own and watch the world
**** all over my open wounds –
infect them with their hate and disdain,

making me feel shame. But I said
I was never going to keep my head down
to the ground again. If I wanted to rise
my eyes would have to look high up

at the stars in the sky. And every
black hole that I descend I would
fill with the courage of ten.

I may be trimmed on the outside
but the inside is full of lard
I may have a pretty face
but believe me I’m jaded and hard
I hold a lot inside
and swallow it down every night in drink
I cover up and I hide
most of the things that I think
and all this time gone by
hasn’t changed a blessed thing
I’ve added to my repertoire
stealing among other things
to cover up the pain
and what have I gained
I’ve only lost myself in the transaction
Despite I do what I love –
I never have satisfaction

I could feel
so filled.
A feeling of no longer
wanting.
To walk away completely
satisfied.
For so long I've hungered
and been denied.
Love is the food that fills up
my plate.
The more that I feed from love,
so shall its huger abate.
All those pangs I had before
where brought on by
the crap that my body stored.
I filled up on emptiness and
needless desire.
The more I fed on such things
the less there was to acquire.
And this feeling of fullness has
made me quite whole.
Love is the soup of the soul.
I shall never go hungry,
overflowing is my bowl!

this basement
of concrete walls
it’s where I put my displacement
it holds in sound
and submarine windows
act as minnows
submerged in my craft
it acts as a raft
to carry me out

Some people have tattoos.
Others don’t wear shoes.
The kindest people I know
are not afraid to show

all their colors boldly.
Though they’re greeted coldly
from narrow-minded folks
who snicker and make jokes

at people different from them.
Treated as coughed up phlegm.
What a sad world it’s become.
Swept away like a crumb

because I hold my ground.
I never will be bound
by other people’s limits.
Those so-called people are dimwits!

again, for showing me. I’m
censored heavily. They don’t like
me to have a body. They don’t like

me to have a brain. I can post
flowers and sunsets. I can post food
and pets. I button my
lips as I do my clothes. I can't

expose myself to anyone. Only two
classes this world has -
for and against/black and blue. Go along

with the masses –
or cut out of the circle
for not fitting their mold.

I can feel the presence of
another woman
even more than one woman
in fact, maybe several
I wonder if he
said the same things
assumed the same positions
that he does with me
does he make comparisons
of my body
are my ******* too little
my waist too thick
do I talk too much
have I an accent
he has a past
of which I know little about –
but still enough
that makes me feel
unloved

he called,
and they talked. And
two weeks past –
for him they flew fast.

In her head
he hasn’t called
in a fortnight. She didn’t like
to see him go. The days are
moving slow.

In his head
August half
elapsed. He now can
collapse.

In her head
August has double
to finish. Her loneliness
hasn't diminished.

world I’d like to break
the glass that seals him in the scene
neat and clean. Is he a fairy-tale
I can't t enter into? Or is he

a display that provides me
visual entertainment? I can touch him
with my eyes, not my hands. I can touch
the glass, but not pass into the place

he stands. He's close. But
distant as a star. And as a star, I must
leave him behind the transparent
sphere.  Here, he can hold me in a stare,

but not in his arms. I can hear the whoosh
of the butterfly rustling on the pavement, no
claimant to the stars or moon. His sparkling
world leaves me pruned.

washed away
from the splash of
sea spray. Tiny crystal
grains of sand still clinging

under my fingernails. Two
boys building castles
with shovels and pails. I drew
a heart around the letters. It was

so cold we both wore
sweaters. The cornflower
sky was smiling down
as salty ocean water pooled

around my ankle. You
were rankled by a thought. I was not
the woman you sought.  A proxy
with honey locks and pearl teeth. We did

not hold hands. We held lies
that pushed their way in like the ocean
tide. And so, we ran out of shore,
on a beach in Bangor.

the squirrels are chasing tails
playing tag. A bunny hops
in, grazing the grass. A jay bird
passes by blending into the azure

sky. My son looks like
a pea in the pod, wrapped up
in the hammock swinging from
the oak. He pokes his head out

and closes his eyes. The leaves are
a canopy of green. The smell of the
burgers cooking on the grill are making
my tummy do pirouettes. The deck

is as gray as the hair on my head,
splintering in parts. Poison ivy is growing out
of the slats. I sit back in the chair and
laugh as I sip a cold, frothy beer. And thank
the stars that summer is here!

the cottontail munches on the
sweet green grass. The squirrels
circle him as they pass, chasing
each other up the old oak tree,

to reach the birdfeeder and eat
the seeds. The blue jay jeers
his resounding call, as another
acorn falls to the ground with a

kerplop. The bunny hops away to find
a quiet place with shade. A honey bee
flutters around me. Two ducks waddle
into view under a cornflower sky

of blue. I sit on my deck drinking it
all in with a glass of lime and gin. A robin
takes a dip, splashing into the birdbath. I take
a sip and smile. Life like this is all worthwhile.

A planted microchip
in blood and vein.
Your blueprint....
Insane

How are you wired
in your pulsing brain?
You're already programmed....
Insane

Elevated temperature
leaves a smoke stain.
You malfunction
Insane

Alcohol puts out the fire
like the sky puts out the rain
You expire
Insane

Everyone has holes. Some we are born with. Some we have made. And others are given to us. Some we leave empty. Some we fill in with terrible things. Mine, I chose to share.

This is the title of my new poetry book!

under the glass
dome, that is my home
life moves as the wind around
me. But I can’t catch

a breeze. I see woman
chasing children. Children
chasing mirages, looking ****
mosaic collages. The colors all

run, the crimson and the marigold,
the azure unrolled. I hear the laughter
of boys going after girls. As I stand
inside my silence it deafens me -

their reverie.

The anger hides
the emptiness inside
But if the truth did show
I guess you would know
of the displaced self
When there's no one else
who could take control
I hand you my soul

Though I might be blind
I am not resigned
What I do not know
shall not be foe
I'm too strong to quit
give up on it.
The past remains.
Yet my path has changed.
And I must follow
the empty hollow
of a displaced self

And if freedom rings
I'd give up these things
to let in the light
that brought me sight
Though this shape is bent
it’s heaven sent
If you believe in prayer
then all is fair

It's a beauty song
that rang along.
But I just heard it when
I believed, and then
it sang for me
in a higher key.
And so shall it resound
now that I am found!

is dehydrated
as instant friends.
But the friends don’t
have the same shelf-

life. Blackened crystals
shimmering as fool's
gold are a lump of
coal. As you have

a sip you’ll find them
bitter.. I like
my coffee dated, as I like
my friends –

percolated.

hiding eggs
we’re hiding our face

Instead of
sitting in church
we’re sitting at home alone

Instead of
wearing bonnets
we’re wearing masks

Instead of
traveling to our relatives
we’re travel to our kitchen and living room
then back

Instead of
conversing in person
we’re conversing through screens

Instead of
wondering if Aunt Matilda will pinch our cheeks
we’re wondering if someone we know will get sick
and if they do will they live

sit rigidly
in the chair
and stare up
at the little stationary camera
that breaks your back and
makes your neck stiff
and your joints ache
and takes away all the warmth as horrid 19
I thought I would simply say very briefly
during this interlude
I love you.

when thoughts no longer sung
If time were but a prelude
I’d say the prelude done

Distance is a gated community
And every path toward it
gives no man immunity

with a glint in his eye
of mayhem. He worked in houses
of bedlam. More books line his walls
than there are leaves in the fall. His hands

are small and thick. His brain
quick with wit. He looks like Jon
Stewart. He loves to cook up roasts and
trouble. He sure looks cute with his wavy hair,

unshaved and stubble. He’s quite compact
for a little man. But his biceps are bigger
than any bill on a toucan. I’ve sort of have
a crush on him. He’s my type of man.

a net of illusion
a place meant for my feelings
never revealing
who am I
but who I
want them to think
I am
interweaving
bands of truth
stretching
pulling
like ***** hair
in a string bikini
covering
the central part
the black top
so, people can pick
the illusion
apart
but not I
the speck
the
.

the world is your stage
and you fill every line
on the page
with words well-spoken
you soothe
excite
and heal
you’re the star
in cobalt and teal

Every day you create
something new
with appeal
to reveal
a different side
to the person
that you always kept
hidden away

the world is your stage

In the beginning....

curiosity
anticipation
balmy, summer breeze
adoration

In the middle....

ferocity
revelation
torrid, endless heat wave
fixation

In the end....

animosity
adaptation
the fall out
damnation

You can travel many continents
Gaze at many stars
You can search the whole world over
But you don’t have to go that far
because what you need
is here in your back yard

You can look at travel brochures
Read about great adventures
in many of your books
But you’ll never find love until you look
in the eyes of the woman who loves you

of night I saw the light through
my neighbor's window. Hunched over
the screen, playing solitaire. His queen
off in another room. And I on my

deck drinking ***** staring into
his womb. He clicks the mouse to
shuffle a card. Our house's so close
like we share the same yard. And we

share the same loneliness too. My king
is off inside. I saw him through
the lamplight. And today the world has
this news of the president elect. It's the red
people choose. And it's so mad that

I'm in the blue, alone in the dark
at five o'clock! Giving myself another
excuse to drink. And I'll ink this in some
literary magazine, and it'll get some
likes from those drag queens.

or picking the nose
pulling on pantyhose
in the sweater
under the bra
itching a scratch
or smoking a cigar
together in prayer
slapping a face
or wrapped in lace
helping out in someone need
carrying bags of groceries
rocking the baby
writing a poem
thrown up in the air crazy
taking a bath
pulling the trigger
clearing the path
holding on

in the wee hours of the morning
sits a middle-age woman
at her computer in nothing more
than an underwire bra and trim *****

singing as she’s typing, line after line
exposing her flesh and her soul for all
to graze upon, like the cattle in the fields
she yields her sweet milk for them

to drink, unpasteurized of course. Her
voice hoarse and the words integrating.
Isn’t it exhilarating! The whole world views
the artist on display

of Children’s Hospital sitting in
the waiting room among little people,
puzzles and Green Eggs and Ham I waited
for him.  A man small as me (I’m only 5.2) with glasses
stepped out to lead me into another room,

where there were toys and more puzzles and
more Dr. Seuss. I was afraid of his biting wit. I was even
more afraid that I was the only patient he had
my age and that I didn’t fit. He was breaking the hospital’s policy,
which was soon to catch up to us

eventually. He stripped me emotionally down
to my skivvies. “I want what I want when I want it”
That’s me. If he could read me that fast how was I
ever to last? A panic attack ensued. The sweat ran down my
neck and my legs. I grew dizzy and felt like a bird in a

cage. He looked at me and said, “there’s the door” The memory
of my son being rushed by ambulance to this hospital before
gripped me by my heartstrings and tugged on them
heavily. Wasn’t it here he was laid out in wires? Wires through
every orifice the doctors could find. And told me meningitis

was what took his mind and made it into mashed potatoes. Oh, yes
“the door.” I snapped out of it with gravy on my lips and
concentrated on the little big man psychologist and what I was
here for. This was the psychiatric department. I was used to
visiting the patient rooms when my son was in this hospital.

her feet swelled to the size
of her head. It wasn’t the first time the swelling
would happen. He took his first dump in the
amniotic waters. He was plump for one so young. She ate him

as a peach for lunch. He sprayed her in the face with
his piston. He acted peculiar at first. Then it started
getting worse. He sought comfort in things that were
disturbing. He played by himself. Never noticed anyone

else.  It was autism, said the doctors. So, she sought
help. He got better until two years later. Something dreadful
in the night fell upon him. In the morning he was stiffer
than the rafters. She dialed the three digits on her

phone. The ambulance whisked him away on
Good Friday. Isn’t life ironic. It was swelling of the meninges
this time. The damage was pervasive and permanent. He
opened his eyes Easter morning, of our Lord 2000.

of the morning
coffee percolating in the Corning
pendulum swinging back and forth
hands traveling south and north

the eggs and bacon are now plating
this full bladder is done waiting
doltishly climbing out of bed
legs of rubber/feet of lead

clouded eyes cannot focus
breakfast table hocus-pocus
punching keys of grey
for two crumbs of pay

flickering of light through the glass
dew drops clinging blades of grass
robin chirping/squirrels scamper
***** clothes pile in the hamper

In the house of love
you're my garden
In the house of love
day is dawning
In this house -
our hands/the roof
In this house -
our hearts/the truth

transparency is key. And everything
is regulated, especially the heat. And your babies

have their own potted seat, separate
from yours. Until you decided to uproot one,

outside of the frame. Where one has never
been. Where there was no protection. You knew the risks, of

plucking a flower with a long, drawn kiss. Some things
were never meant to be taken out of the sanctuary of their making.

is hazy as a London fog
she leaves him with mirth
the streets are morgues
and smiles are hidden
behind masks worn

darkness sets in
months grow longer
as the spring grass
and liberties are shorn
for a spell, the stars forget

that night has yet to bring the day
to demise –
in seclusion
and so, they dance in his eyes
as they shine

he gazes at the glass
and he holds
until she passes
and her downy fluff disappears
like a snow squall

she’s been diminished to ashes
all the cathedrals that been erected now
have burned to the ground from the
raging war and the arms that held her have been

torn off. This woman’s face full of
****** tears from crying into the crevices
for ten years. Now she’s descending into
an alcoholic black hole of broken bones,

skulls and squid – that **** the life of one who had
wanted to live. Leaving a gaping ****** stern
and cold. This painted vestibule is in tinted eighteen
karat gold. Others can sit and watch, watch and

wait for the viper stripper snake. Some will
applaud, others will spurn. But in your eyes, there is
neither fire nor ice. Maybe because you sacrificed
too much for her. You felt the fangs –

her poison kiss. When you pushed the mercury
to the limit it leaked. They’re sure to bite you
if you give them teeth.

Did she make the whole thing up?
It wasn’t real
They said - In your head
They’re mistaken
Write her a prescription
Give her a day program
In your head -
The doctor said
It wasn’t real
Take an aspirin
You can have visitors
Will the insurance cover it?
She’ll have enough time
To write a book about it
Name every name
Shame all to blame
The title -
In Your Head
It wasn’t real
The doctor said

an apple
round and green
hanging on the tree
you picked me
and took a bite
discarding my core
you took as you did
and didn’t want more

I once was
a tissue
soft and light
lying in a brightly colored box
nestled with the others on top
you pulled me out
wiped up the crud
leaving me stained
and useless –
a dud

I was once
a rainbow
violet, blue, red, green
orange and yellow
an arch in the azure sky
you crossed me
painting me black
and not looking back

I once was
a thought
that floated in the reverie
of a man's head
golden as the sunset
mellifluous as a song
warm as a bubble bath
till his head filled
with dates and numbers
headlines and lunch
and I was snuffed out
as a candle in the wind
my light dimmed

Rolling with the flow
Bubbling in spots
Pooling all my thoughts
I once was a river
Now I’m a rock

I once was a river
Men rode my back
Fish swam in me
Surrounded by trees
Overhead a honking flock
I once was a river
Now I’m a rock

I once was a river
Men polluted my waters
No home for the otters
Acid rain spilled
Killed the grass and stalks
I once was a river
Now I’m a rock

recognition
a wave, a smile
a hello "how are you"
someone to stop for a while
not heads bent down to buzzing feet
seeing flying hair
not rosy cheeks

I only want a little
company
someone to talk to
a friend to spend a sunny afternoon
looking at the chipmunk's prance
hear the robin sing and butterfly dance
but greeted with a wall of silence
walking on slim ice
no alliance

I only want a little
snuggle
not more than a cuddle
but hands on me were a shove
and drops of blood
cut with razor tongues
I don't understand
this thing called love

as a sweater
shrunk in the dryer.
You no longer fit.
You're just a liar.
So, I split.

I outgrew you
as a baby blanket
I'd carry around
till you tore
and colors faded.
I no longer paraded
you in town.

I outgrew you
as cigarettes.
Sick of the sweats.
I kicked the habit.
Jumpy as a rabbit.
You stunk
with smoky breath.
No longer the dance of death.

in a suitcase
sent it out to sea
so, it wouldn’t agitate me
thought the balmy air
and palm trees make it cool
but it didn’t fool it at all

I packed my rage
in an icebox
closed it airtight
so, it set on ice
thought it chill
but still, it’s fiery hot

I packed my rage
in the attic
sealed it in a box
told it “Get lost"
but it fought to break out
and I’m faced with
the same rout

I packed my rage
in the recycling bin
along with the tin cans
and plastic bottles
to salvage
but it landed as regret
now I carry it as a debt

my hair
as my politics
on the left
out in left field
head high
as a high ball
in a tall glass

I part
my lips
into a smile
and all the while
carrying the pain
I strain to part with
old ways

I part
my memories
parcel them in boxes
store them in the attic
where the Christmas tree
and socks is

I part
with friends
I’ve grown apart from
some partings are sweet
some glum

I part
ways
with people
that don’t serve me
they don’t deserve me