I want it, want it, want it
more than the baby wants the bottle
more than a theory to Aristotle
I need it, need it, need it
more than a heart needs to beat
more than a man needs to eat
more than Romeo needs Juliet
more than a gambler lives for his next bet
It consumes me as the plague
Makes this thought seem rather vague
It's got me, got me, got me
Will I last this day?
Is April after May?

as the petals in a rose
this world’s sagged in repose

I want it open
as a parachute in flare
rising in the air

I want it open
as the mouth of an alligator
Sooner than later

that curls your toes
crinkles your nose
tingles your fingers
makes you break out in a sweat
makes your head dizzy
makes you forget
the kind of kissing that makes butterflies
in your belly
makes your legs feel like jelly
the kind that has you swaying
and praying it will never end
the kind of kissing
that lifts you up
to heaven
has you floating on the clouds
has you moaning
out loud
your hands moving up and
down her skin
the kind of kissing that makes you
wishing this was young again

I Want to

Pluck you as a chicken
Pull you as a dandelion
Uproot you as a turnip
With these hands
Yes, with these hands

Shake you as a cocktail
Pour you in my glass
Taste you
With this mouth
Yes, with mouth

Tease you with words
Unease you with lines
Bend you with the rhymes
With this mind
Yes, with this mind

as the wind.
Pull you up off the ground.
Move you around.
We can go to places
you’ve never been.

I want to be
as the rain,
a soft and gentle refrain
that you collect in a cup
and drink the contents up.
Sweet as cherry wine.
Green as the leaves
on the vine.

I want to be
as the sun,
and make you feel warm.
I want to light up your face.
You have such a beautiful face.
It shouldn’t be hidden for long.

I want to be
as the snow –
coat you in pure white gold.
Spread your arms
and make angel wings.
And sing til
we scare off the crows.

so, I can hide in the hair
and still get around
riding the back
of the spring greyhound.

I want to be a flea
so, I can live out my life
in a few short months, and not
grow old and be in the dumps.

than life. Ya, you
heard me right. I want the world
in my pocket. I want to rock it
in blue-studded stilettos. I don’t want

to wait a minute more. I want the world
on a string and pull its cord. May sound
crazy to you. I know it’s absurd. But hell,
might as well. You only die once.

with It
done caring at all
waiting
checking
hoping
when nothing
Flies
just the cobwebs
off the ceiling
falling
glazed eyes
from staring
getting up each morning
fighting hard
nothing to materialize
what’s the use
why do I try
to fail
to get it right
to do something
with this time
I feel empty
as all the shoes
in my closet
just like my lines
that wait for me
to slip into them
one at a time
with nowhere
to go

you! You and all
your complaining. You growl
as a badger and screech as
a bat. You’re aloof like that

of a cat. You're indolent as
a sloth. And as for your promises -
you've broken every troth. You've
the morals of a snake. You've given

me only heartache. You drink like
a fish. You're despicable as
a rat. To me, you're just a spolied
brat!  You're wrinkled as an

elephant. And flabby as
a walrus!  And about as chivalrous
as a mouse. So, get out! I don't like
you! You're old and ugly too!

I'm divorcing you -
myself
I'm taking it in my hands
to rid me of myself!

I want to be understood
I just don’t want to explain
I want to be loved
I just don’t want the pain

and for lunch eat
fettuccini wrapping the vanilla
strands tight as bird nests in
my hands. I want to lay out in

the sun till I'm golden brown
like a loaf of bread and dip and
splash till I'm waterlogged
and lobster red. Don't call me in

for dinner. I'm listening
to Lynyrd Skynyrd. Big wheels
keep on turning. I'm burning up
the old 45's. It's here I am

alive. The leaves don't fall
off the trees. All I wear is
shorts/no sleeves, flip-
flops and a wide-brim hat,

sitting in a lounge chair with
wooden slats. Sipping frozen
drinks out of paper straws. Life is
better put on pause.

I Want to Show You Who I Am

I’ve got you on my mind
You’re in my heart all the time
You’ve become a special part of me
I need you to light my way
To see me through another day
I want to show you who I am

Come along, take my hand
We’ll sing a song no one understands
Write our initials in the wet sand
Gaze up at the stars
I want you to show me who you are
And I want to show you who I am

Life is lonely without a friend
Without someone who’ll listen
A shoulder you cry on when you’re sad
It’s time to take off our masks
I need someone who makes me laugh
Believes in me and has my back
Someone who’ll tear down all my walls
Hold my pieces when I break
And if they cut won’t run away
I want to show you who I am

but when it's mine
it's pungent as turpentine.
I grow restless for more.
But more is less yesterday and

bigger tomorrow when dreams
are all you have to follow. And dreams
are like the weather. They change
once they come together.

I want you unearthed
I want you plural, baby
For what it’s worth
I want you without the pretense

the make-up or fluff
I want you bent
over me, and still
won’t be enough

I want the shards and the scars
Stick it to me
I want it all and more
Unapologetically

put your life in a stranger’s
hands who pretends to listen and
understand and you’ll be sorry. Your

head will be torn off and put
on backwards. They want you
to see things from behind. They love

to analyze, dissect you like the frog in
biology class. They’ll stir up your anguish
insecurity and rue before the bill is due. “Tell me

about your feelings” while they’re looking up
at the ceiling wondering what’s for dinner. “Tell me
about your mother” while they take a mental note

of the other patient who comes after you. Eying
the clock as they always do.  You fill their pockets
while they feed your head with enough **** that

you’ll wish you were dead. They all want to *******,
and get in your pants. Some will, if given
the chance. You’ll never go forward

.back looking by –
There’s a box of tissue in every office because
they make you cry. The problem isn’t you;
it’s them. They’re like a cough loaded with phlegm.

a shiny toy, right out of the box
that brought the boy joy. Until my gloss turned
green as moss. And I started to chip and crack. If he
could he’d send me back. But it was too late then. I was
in pretty bad condition.

I was

a shy, kind child –
that sat in the corner and smiled. Did
what she was supposed to do. And cried in
her cup until her face turned scarlet and the
water blue.

I was

thought of as the result of an adulterous
affair between my mother and my father’s nephew. My
mother never cared. She left me with my grandmother
and dated other men. I was always alone.
Nothing new since then -

Was I too perfervid -
Dazzling you as the sun in mid-afternoon
Did it leave you blind?
You prefer the pall of a midnight moon
Shorn of strength/forced to grind

Was I too esoteric -
Pulling you in opposite directions
Did it boggle the mind?
You prefer those pat connections
Shorn on time/so unkind

Was I too clamorous -
Bedeviling you with this wicked game
Taut as an angling line twined
You never will be quite the same
Shorn to yourself/ left behind

as I pushed out
into this hard world
a cold wet baby girl
through screams and men’s
hands wrapped around
the tiny infant

I was alone
as I sat for lunch
shoulders hunched over
my lunch
in the school cafeteria
blending in with the exterior

I was alone
an only child
in my room
as girls went to dances
and parties
proms and semi-formals
I was not normal

I was alone
in his company
standing as a door frame
that he walked through
hanging over him as the blue sky
a cherry silhouette
on standby

to him, light and flaky
honey wheat. Just fluffy
bedtime sweet! Yellow like
a golden raisin, and twice

as brazen. He didn't have
to butter me. I was soft
as the brie. And he saw through
every layer. He was so the

player. The girls said "he's
a dish" And so, he was
my knish. And I, his knash,
rolled and folded till I

melted in his mouth. Till I
crumbled in his hand, landed
in his lap. So full, he took
a nap. But after his long doze?

Gone was his sweet rose!

Now I’m a cactus. It took
practice for my petals to turn
to spines. Sticking out
and sharp, none can touch

without a stabbing *****. I’m a walking
needle stick. I was sweet perfume. My bloom
filled the room. I met many devils. Every man
pulled out a petal. Kept tucked

under his pillow. My head hanging
as a weeping willow. I ran out of brine;
and lost my shine. This is as I grew
the spines. Now I stand untwined. No more

can man cut or pluck me. He’d bleed
if he tried to shuck me. I’m not soft and
sweet. Now, I’m thick and can take
the heat! But I miss the garden. The earth
underneath harden.

and you took that
fed it with the
Silver spoon until

it tarnished and could
not feed me no more

and so many labeled it
lore and I myself had to ask
was I as I was because of that?

someone packed
tightly in their hands, compressed
me into the form I am. And then
pushed me down the mountain

hill. More was added upon each turn
and spill. I collected **** from the dogs,
dirt from the kids, smog from the horizon,
shadow from the moon rising. And then

I sank to the bottom as the leaves do
in autumn. And I sat, collected in my fat
unmoved, until the sun came out. That’s when
I turned into a puddle.

that even those noisy kids
at the library shouting at the computer
game didn’t bother me. When I have
anxiety stillness is unbearable. So, most times
I want to pull these kids by the collar and

holler “this is a library”, not a video arcade
or park to kick your soccer ball. Do your home
work, read a book or shut the **** up! You see
nothing was going to take away my inner world
of tranquil bliss. Not even these kids, yesterday.

stuck to the wall like wallpaper
plastered on with glue
looking the same every day, maybe
in time fade, my colors less intense

from the sun pouring in. I wanted to
be a real flower, not one on the
wall., covered by a painting. I wanted to
be planted in the soil, have drops of rain

bead on my petals
like freckles do on skin, see the trees
bend with the wind,
feel the bees collect my pollen. I wanted

to be three-dimensional, alive and
unconventional, not a stockpile in a roll
in your local Home Depot.

in the washer
tossed with the coloreds. Pure as
driven snowflakes was I! Sweet
as ma's apple pie. Then bra's

snapped their straps
at me. The dungarees wrapped
their denim long legs around
me. The red thong bled its crimson so,

I was no longer as the ******
snow. I wrinkled in a mess of pa's
stiff cornflower shirts ma had
pressed. Mangled in sheets and

sweaters. Drowning in suds. The rocking
back and forth of this washer with
a thud. I flew out of the machine painted pink,
blue and green. I shrunk down a size or

two. I didn't fit. So, I was kept in the closet
down the hall to wipe the walls and
tabletops/ an old dust cloth. Till I grew moldy
and black. Then they threw me in the trash.

with a stiletto, the **** of her
jokes. And like her cigarette, smashed
into the ground. In a flash, turned to ash
from her smoky breath. Crushed like

a plum tomato in the sauce. I learned
quickly she was boss. Crushed like ice in
her drink, slivers of the rock I was. Melting
in a frosty mug. Like a tin can she

ran over me with an electric mower that had
teeth. I was dented with sharp edges, thrown into
the neighbor's hedges. Like an old car piled high
in the junk yard. Folded up like an accordion

after years of Freudian therapy. My Dreams,
crushed rose petals and scattered  like leaves
in the potpourri. Stuffed inside a bedroom
drawer, lost between the underwear and socks.

hung out to dry
on a long clothesline. Blowing
in the ***** wind and pinned
to a memory. I was

just a tight rose bud before
the rain turned this to mud. I
was white as a beluga. And he
even smoother. The only

ties were the ribbons around
my chestnut tresses, long before the lies
he dresses up in pearls. The years faded
this baby girl. And I cannot say I miss them

any more than I miss the leaves
that hastily blown off the backyard
maple trees. All shall bloom, as flowers do,
when spring sees this winter through.

like a tape
he tried to erase. He talked
over me.  And altered history
like it was tight pants he let out,

after he grew stout. Coughed up
like a strand of spaghetti
caught in his tonsils. He
fought hard to expel. Blown

out like a sneeze, scattered
in the breeze. I was hanging
in the air, like kitten claws on
daddy's grey tweed

chair. Dropped
like a bowel movement
and flushed down the sewer
after he roasted me on a skewer.

he mowed down. He watered
me and cut me down. I grew
even in the shade. I stood up
straight, an emerald blade. Stood as

grey clouds rolled in and
the rain fell, as the dew
dropped pearls upon my cells. I stood
in the sun's scorching rays that

turned my sweet green into yellow
hay. I looked up to the cornflower
sky, as the blinding wind flew right
by. Bunnies nibbled my leaves and

dogs peed on me. Men and women
walked all over me, leaving me
lying on my side flat. But still,
here I am! I sprung back!

the hole in his plans
the broken brakes
his unzippered pants
the teeth didn't line up straight
a couple broke off
he looked like a jack-o'-lantern
wearing socks

I was a mirage
looking like paradise
in his garage
the crash and burn
bones and skull
now he's earned a room in hell

ball. He'd bounce me up
and down and off the wall. Up to
a cornflower sky, so high I saw
my arms as wings that flap and

fly. But I took a nosedive
as I crashed down, hitting
the ground with such force like
a train wreck off course. He,

the magician juggling
my broken pieces up in starburst
air. This rubber ball had edges now
more like a square. I took my pieces

and left his garage. Boarded a plane
for a Caribbean plage. I'll not bounce
again. No up and down for some class
clown. I'll sing as willow wren.

some happiness with me
as I left. But it was sealed inside
so tight it did not seep out even
a crack of light.

I was hoping to take
some warmth from the day. It was
a hotter than a lava spring
as early as this morning. I stood
cold. I can not hold it. It melted in my hand –
yesterday’s plan.

I was hoping to take
a memory created from
a man as he looks glossy-eyed
with a big tooth smile smeared on
his face like jelly from a donut with
the runs.

All I took was myself
like the rocking chair that dottles
as ashes in a pipe. And sits like a lump
that was smoked once. But hasn’t a spark
to ignite.

A broken glass can’t hold anything.
if it’s smashed to smithereens.
I might have a dent or a ding
But I’m capable of holding something.
I might have a nick or a crack
But I was built to last.
I might be a bit discolored
But there’s more of me to discover.
So, I lost some of my shine.
But I still feel like I’m in my prime.
Yeah, there’s plenty of chips
on the rim of these old, wrinkled lips.
But they still can give a wet kiss
just as passionately as anyone.

chocolate, melting in
the boy's hand, smudging
my colors all over his face,
with a little red ribbon pasted

in place.  A bunny, hollow
inside. I split open as he bit
into my side. He peeled off
pieces of me, and they fell off

like bark shedding from
a tree. I was not filled,
like the solid bunnies, that
had firmer and rounded

tummies. I had edges poking
out. My sweet lips curled into
a pout. But my foil was fourteen carat
gold shiny. I was cute for one so tiny.

The weather said
thunderstorms and wind. I
wasn't going to stand outside
soaked to the skin.

I wasn’t going to go.
I felt languorous. I dreamt of
slouching on my couch vacantly
staring at my laptop cross.

I wasn’t going to go.
I have a penchant for alcoholic
drinks. And the Crème de Menthe
and chocolate liquor felt like splendor
when the world outside ate all the cherries
spitting out the pits.

I wasn’t going to go
but for the fervor of him
I did. And I danced in the rain –
not at all cross. And I
went home and didn’t have a
drink. And the world is splendiferous
after I saw his shining face.

like the carcass of a duck.
Sans feathers before the roasting.
Man pouring champagne in a red neck flute,
toasting his capture and making me mute.

I was plucked
like a woman's brow.
Tweezed till I was extracted.
Men were distracted in shaping me.
Thinning me out like garden of weeds.

I was plucked
like ukulele strings
to make beautiful music
out of all my suffering.
Strumming my thumb on mahogany,
sweet as a baby wallaby.

I was plucked
like blueberries off the shrub.
Dropped in a tin pail
took home and scrubbed.
I was a tasty snack.
But after you're plucked
they can't put you back.

out a hot hairy hole
in gasping contractions
****** and wet
stunned by doctors reactions.

I was pushed
out the chipped painted red door
wearing a polyester backpack, holding books
put on a yellow city bus
children shooting me harrowing looks.

I was pushed
into smoking cigars and cigarettes
drinking vanilla ***** nips and cans of beer
just to fit in.
So, they wouldn't call me a square.

I was pushed
into the metal lockers at school
by plump smart-*** girls,
and home by my wrinkled faced mom
who was ugly and cruel.

I was pushed
into marrying my first boyfriend
at the young age of twenty.
My friends were dating wild country boys
while I was counting every penny.

I was pushed
beyond limits
when my oldest son lost his mind
two years in a hospital bed
bedridden and blind.

I was pushed
into therapy
against my will
then ***** by the therapist
and charged with the bill.

I was pushed
till I pushed back.
Now I stand up for myself,
put my life back on track.

for stars up in the sky
until I found that all the stars
are just reflections of my eyes

I was reaching out
to other people for help
until I found the only one
that could help me was myself

I was reaching out
for whatever I could
find. But whatever it was
wasn’t good enough, at least
not in my mind.

I was reaching out
to get high. But the high
could not be sustained. And I
realized that I was playing
a losing a game.

I was reaching out
until I learned to reach in.
That is only when true healing
will begin.

on the rocks
with a salty rim like a cocktail
paired with lox, in a room smoky
and dim. Shaken like maracas,

red painted wood. In this
mystery the music's where I
stood. I was shaken down
like a mercury thermometer. I

had a fever.  It burnt
like firewood. I was shaken
like a finger pointed right at me,
piercing through my dreamy

reverie. Shaken like a baby
that's been screaming all day
long. Bleeding in the brain.  I go out
into that dark, thick night like a high-speed train.

the day I was born
cut from the red ****** cord
that nourished me
cut like a hanging branch
sawed off the maple tree

I was shorn
like the green grass
in spring
before my time
of flowering
didn’t stand an inch to grow
every weekend
I was mowed

I was shorn
like wool's sheep
on the old man's farm
skirted, rolled and bagged
blind, naked and sagged

I was shorn
of the skin I’ve worn
all my life
shed it like a snake
at night
grew a new birthday suit
didn’t iron out
the wrinkles
learned to dress
finessed in crinkles

you used to wash all over yourself. And as
I melted I got smaller in your hands. I took
your dirt and ran down the drain. Till
all that was left of me was *****
water and poverty. You came
out clean.

I laid my mattress in
the living-room. And camped out
every day with the shades pulled
down to block out the light

from outside. I ate and ate until
my weight was one-hundred and
seventy-five. I had just miscarried my
baby girl. Her name would have been

Sarah if she came into this world. But
she never made it to her May birthday –
She was taken in a very sober October
when the colors of the leaves shined against

my pale face and barren waist. We died
the same way, taken before we could
consummate, like I did with Jim. And after we had
our fling he died too. Then I turned full-on to

the bottle. My son never made it home
from the hospital. It was too much to bear on anyone –
and this old woman is no longer young. But still
depressed, spending her time in a cold basement

video-taping ******* – *******, ***
and ***** for money. Her poems are just as her
baby girl, son and Jim –
all brain dead. No light has been shed on a one –
if it doesn’t involve a **** or tongue

as a snowflake
falling from the sky
soft as the wings
on a butterfly

soft as the leaves
on a weeping willow
the fluffy goose down
stuffed inside my pillow

soft as the hair
on a rabbit
as the velvet wine
in a bottle of Cabot

soft until
it poured down buckets
the clouds above
caused a ruckus

then I hardened
as my world darkened
hard as a wooden broomstick
even harder than a ton of bricks

I'll not catch the raindrops
running off my rooftop
they froze into icicles
pointy, jabbing rising hills

a lot of life
on you. Days that should have
been uplifting/spent drifting. Nights
I should have been sleeping

spent weeping. Winters I should
have run spent cloaked as
a nun. June's I should have
bloomed spent locked up

in my room. Years only shrink
as I drown in my drink. I wasted
my youth stuck to you as a rickety
tooth. I couldn't bite down on

on a thing. I lost my spring. My colors
bled out, crimson and gold like
the leaves in autumn.  Suspended as
a *******, I swing in the air as a tuft of hair.

a lot of head space
over him. Recounting every touch,
hanging myself on a memory, swinging
in his clutch. Shrinking inside the silhouette,
smaller than a bead of sweat.

I wasted
so many days in a haze. Weeping
dewdrops, running down my face
in a trickle. Sour
as a pickle floating in a sea
of brine tangled on his fishing line.

I wasted
myself in a bottle of alcohol,
living in this gilded cage, and turning
out page after page every day.

I wasted
my youth
on things that were lies
not truth. Stuck as flies
to paper. This pain does not
ever taper.

my breath
with words
that flew as birds in one
ear and out the other
leaving me tar and feathered
and now I’m gagged and tethered

I wasted
my days
in a haze
taken in by his lies
that stuck as flies to hanging paper
but did not taper
just swung from the trees
as a ***** breeze

I wasted
my years
weeping as the morning dew
on blades of grass
teardrop pearls that roll
building up a mountain
of snow

in his chain of
“can’t let gos”
with a flick of
finger I began

to quiver
till I toppled on
the next spotted
vagabond that

fell as hard
as I
neither standing
after the ride

as he laughed
to see us all
knocked out flat
that's the last

I'll fall in line
for a man's tricks
no matter his shine

Yesterday seems like a dream
When I was there with you the world was a happy place
Now you’re gone and everything’s changed.
But my love’s the same as it was yesterday

Don’t you leave me as a blank space, baby
I just want to fill all your empty pages
Start at the beginning where love originated
I was there, all along

Memories can surely fade
And only scars remain after the hurt sets in
The trust has been broken and the damage done
Can we get back to the place we were before?

Don’t you leave me as a blank space, baby
I just want to fill all your empty pages
Start at the beginning where love originated
I was there, all along

Don’t wipe away our love from one bad mistake
I’m begging you to give it time
Aren’t all the years we shared worth another chance?
Or will I pay by spending the rest of them in loneliness?

Don’t you leave me as a blank space, baby
I just want to fill all your empty pages
Start at the beginning where love originated
I was there, all along

and he cinder,
ashes to my pyre. A match
that not catch fire. A grey
cold lump of coal

was he, a roll around
crunchy'crimson fallen
leaves. Billowing smoke stung
the air. Bleeding lips kiss

to bare.  Pressing breast
bone. Dead eyes don't
blink. They stare into a cornflower
sky. Body limp as noodles

in my Pad Thai. The burn to
ignite to ashes holed up in a urn
was my oversight!  Next time
I'll learn not to be smite.

as a babe swaddled in her rose
cotton blanket. Covered as the tables filled with
blooms in a wedding banquet. Wrapped in
the love sauce as a beef burrito, I, a tiny starving

bambino. Wrapped like a caterpillar
in her cocoon under the glow of a midnight
moon. But tight in that stance/not emerging
as a violet butterfly spry and ready for

the dance. Wrapped up like the birthday
presents in bows, glitter, and satin ribbons. And losing
my head as the chickens stuffed and pushed
in the oven. It wasn’t at all becoming.