like a beef and bean burrito
till you drew blood like
a mosquito. So, wrapped up
as a babe swaddled, till the years

with you dawdled. Wrapped
as a caterpillar in her chrysalis, I didn't
emerge as a butterfly. I was stricken
with syphilis. I couldn't wrap my head

around all of this. His sweet kisses
turned into hisses. I was wrapped as
a broken arm in a sling. I couldn't move
in this self-effacing fling. So, I cut

the appendage. And I hung back
suspended. Now I'm more like a dowel
than a wet paper towel.

to water a dandelion
like a rose
to read poetry
in prose

to see white
when it's painted black
to think it's given
but it's taken back

to catch a glimmer
in shade
to think I've had it all
for all it to fade

to call a foe
a friend
to think we start
we end

the azure sky
turn to stone etched grave
and wonder why
my hollow eyes concave

I watch
diamonds dancing
on the sea
turn to dregs
of lemon tea
I wonder why
the albatross fly
the snow crab flee

I watch
the muddy river run
the day melting as candles
in the sun
I wonder why
the colors bleed
into shards of make-believe

I watch
the bullfrog croak
through the larynx
in his throat
a bassy bello hello
as the tadpole’s scatter
and I wonder
why they chatter

I watch
the salty moon
cast a shadow
on the loon
and I wonder
why he swims
when the light
is so dim

as the Sunday papers,
black on white
with politics, sports and capers.

I wear it
as the morning fog,
pounding pavement
from a morning jog.

I wear it
as the coffee grinds,
brewed and slow
and over time.

I wear it
as dishwater,
*****, bubbly
and that much hotter.

I wear it
in my toothpaste,
brushing the stains
peppermint laced.

I wear it
as a hair elastic,
holding the frayed
with rubber and plastic.

I wear it
as my red overcoat,
double-breasted
covering the bloat.

I wear it
in my *****.
Belting it out
as an opera.

I wear it
in my sleep.
Crawling in nightmares
it creeps.

I wear it
in every line.
Rhymed or not,
it's all mine.

like a suit of armor. It protects me
because it has toughened me up. I’m not
the innocent pup that I used to be, always
kneeling at people’s feet.

I wear my scar
like a badge of honor. It’s courage
that got me here. It’s days where I endured
great pain but always remained
true to myself, even when that meant
that I stood alone. I got on real strong.

I wear my scar
like a star. It’s shining brightly. I buff
it well in hopes to tell all that you can have
a scar and be a star all by yourself.

thick as the gravy train
lumpy as ma’s mashed potatoes
soft in the right spots – talk to me laters
lick the spoon

I will beg
I’m the dog wanting to get out
Jump on you as soon
as you enter the room
lick my ****
this is true –
not just a farce
and sing a tune

as a scarlet letter
big and bright
on my low-cut sweater.

I wear the pain
as a banana peel
skidding across
the street
in stiletto heels.

I wear the pain
as a lumberjack
wielding a long-
winded ax.

I wear the pain
as a blinding torch
scorching the ground
I walk around.

to walk the paths of the
minutemen. When they were
marching with musket in hand

they didn’t have to worry about the
distance between themselves. The enemy
has become the men in your tribe. I tried

to keep the six-foot wide rule that no one else
was adhering to. But in order to do this
I ended up in the forest. It was so dense with

overgrowth that I began to choke. As I
meandered out to see a mix of people trialing
only two feet width someone shouted “that forest

has Tics.” So now I’m worried of getting sick
with of all things, Lyme disease! All for
avoiding the present company!

sat in a rocking chair and read until
my eyes bled. No one was there except for
the one short and stocky greying man
who was working his shift. As we crossed paths,

he said hello. Though I didn’t measure if we
were six feet apart. He wasn’t concerned and
neither was I. It was nice to see someone
smile. The music played on the stereo speaker

hanging above very old songs from a long
time ago, a time when people got together, a time
when you could bring your kids to the park
in the warmer weather. A time when you weren’t

afraid of going outside, of touching people. Now
everyone hides. It was nice to hear him move
around. It made up for the deafening sound when
I stepped outside into the empty parking lot and

drove away. Thank god for little places that
are not afraid to have a big welcome sign
outside that says “we’re open/come on in”
And so, that’s what I did!

shore to shore
with a big blowtorch
till there no more
lies in my path
they’ll all turn to ash

I will burn bridges
by land and sky
with kamikazes
that I’ll fly
till there’s no more
caustic fuel
spilling out from the mouth
of a mule  

I will burn bridges
that cross into places
I shouldn't go
burning them slow
into the ground
till the fires lights up the black
and sparks of memories
are hacked

I will burn bridges
and then build new
with my hands
laying every plank
as it were seed
and plotting it out
braiding the tweed

again! I won’t have to
pull my ragged self out, cause I’ll

never put myself in. I won’t
have to pick my splintered parts up,

cause I won’t let myself
down. I won’t have the

pounding pain of the lows, cause I
won’t have the highs. And

I won't have the gut-wrenching
life from a callous goodbye.

to hurt me again
to make me unwelcomed
to build me up
just to let me down
I will never be another notch
on your bedroom post
someone to take the place of
someone else
I will never be second choice
or have no voice

I will never give you the power
to make me think of myself as inferior
to see myself in the mirror as ugly
to question my own behavior
to gaslight me
make me believe I’m crazy

I will never give you the power
to rule –
make me become so dependent on you
walk on eggshells from room to room
to sacrifice everything
even my dreams –
to rob me of my beautiful life

burn this red candle
it shrank so low
it’s flat as my sandal

glowing a golden amber flame
standing ***** at the windowpane
melting beads of teardrop wax

hoping soon you’d drive back
till the light choked
billowing clouds of dusty black smoke

I will no longer
hold this door ajar
looking out for a shooting star
spring flew as the robin
after a cold winter of sobbing
and falling like the autumn leaves
cracking neath the boy’s hot feet

your whipping post
or punching bag
nor will I be your maid
I’ve had enough
I will not be

the one who listens
to all your troubles
the who is always available
when no one else is around
the one who lifts you up
when you’re feeling down –
you’re always feeling sorry
for yourself
I will not

be the person you take
for granted
the one you take
all your frustrations out on
and I will not

be here when you get back
I have packed
I am gone
So long

like the rest of the ladies
that you allowed to walk out
of your life. I’ll be the blue
jay singing outside your

window. You’ll feel me on
a hot summer’s night, as a rush of heat
when you can’t sleep. When you’re
coughing as you’re walking through

the city to get to your job. I’m the
tickle in your throat. I’m the magnolia
tree you catch a whiff of in the
breeze. And when you stare in the glass

of every building that you pass
you’ll see my face because you’ll know
that no matter where you go, I’m
there – until we meet again

of what you wish me to be.
That would be an enormity,
a fruitless endeavor, with no guarantee!
You lie false claim in what you perceive,
and live in your world of make-believe.
I don't believe in being cast in a role.
I don't believe in being boxed in a hole.
I'm going to break out of everyones molds.
Too many confining me in too tight of holds!
All these conditions restrict as they bind.
**** all tradition; it's too strict staying aligned.
I don't fit neat in society; you say I contrast.
I'm not the standard image; you deem me an outcast.
You're only as good as they wish you to be.
I only answer to myself; I only have to please me!
Judged in a world where everyone is a clone,
It takes so much more to stand out on your own.
And people who have their own special needs,
that look and act different and go at their own speeds
they are far better than any of you!
They don't carry the grudge of conformity others accrue.

on. I’ve always got
a song. I will sing it until
you got chills, until it fills
those empty walls, those ones
that you climb every day.

I will turn you
loose. Kick you in
the caboose. You need
something to make you
move. I’ll get you back into
the groove.

I will turn you
around. Put a smile
on that dour face. Every hour
you spend in the same
place, waiting for different
news and feeling confused.

This has turned you
inside out.
I will turn you on.

You always carry it
around in your pocket. It’s always there,
in your hands or on the nightstand when
you’re sleeping. You jump the second
it goes off. But when I call your name
we never talk.

I wish you would look at me
the way you look deeply into
it. It’s as if everything around you
doesn’t exist.

I wish I could make you
that interested in me. That I
could be the one to make you smile
instead of a hand-held screen.

in a bottle. So, when I needed
a wish I could rub you, and magically
you could be my dish.

I wish I could put you
in a pill. So, when I was ill
I could swallow you whole. I’d be
good as gold.

I wish I could put you
in a suitcase and pack you up, So,
I could take you with me anywhere I
go. But it might be hard to breathe
underneath all my clothes.

things were fair. But nothing
comes out even. The big get

bigger. And the small, smaller. Yet
all my dreams are big. One could say

international. A provincial girl with
international dreams. Here is where
I live. Here is where I’m big.

a leaf is a piece of heaven
and holding it brings a smile
sitting and seeing it rain leaves
for a while
red, orange, and yellow angels’ drift
from skies of honey apple crisp
dancing in the afternoon
young boy sings a frolicking tune
I created this –
and he?
Kindness for humanity

a Barbie doll.  Then, I could pop my head
off and switch it with someone else. If there was
a glitch in in me the switch would fix it instantly. I could

use a pair of erasers for my feet. That way if
I make mistakes going forward they can be
erased before they leave a mark. People would balk

as I walk down the street wearing only pink rubber
on my feet. It would be nice if I had a built-in censor
button. That way if I said something that wasn’t loving

or nice it would go off and make me stop. It isn’t easy
being a lady these days when you got a lot to say. Although I try
to hide my imperfections, I realize I am special being me,

exactly as I am. I just got to stop doubting myself
and always expecting perfection, rather than accepting that
I am human.

by the wind
sending whispers
under my dress
standing *****
the hairs on my skin

I wish I was untouched
by the needle’s eye
I can walk through now
that I'm not sewn blind

I wish I was untouched
by the grains of sand
the pendulum swinging
the two moving hands

I wish I was untouched
by the papers, I’ve seen
in the darkroom
how the red light burned
how they’re turned in the trays
hung by a clothespins
put on display

hurting. And that the loneliness
would leave me alone. I wish my life
could have meaning, and that people
would be kinder, find something in
my writing that would inspire them. I
feel like my cat that paces in front of
my computer screen. All I see is
a big blob of black that makes
me sneeze.

this black cloud
of dust that’s sweeping
over the two of us. Or if
I can’t lift it because it’s stuck

I wish to **** it up
with a giant straw and exhale
the contents right straight
to mars. Or if I can’t **** it

up I’ll add water until it
becomes a thick black paste the
consistency of mud. Roll it up
wearing gloves. And make a

venom snowman. So, if that ****
sun came out this creature of tar
it would start to melt. And shovel
the **** back where it came –

never to see it again!

and die. I did not reply. You’re
a *****. And I’m a singer. People
like you ruin it for people like me. How,
I just do karaoke. You have to take

down all the videos or a price
you'll pay for those. People dropping like
flies as I subside. So now I’ve myself
an OnlyFans page.  I’m making

less than minimum wage. And Europe
closed all the borders. That's in stock for
Trump supporters! So, my relaxing holiday
has taken a nose-dive. But tonight, I'll show signs
of acting drunk again. Drinking has turned into
my new religion.

in darkness,
the blackness and I.
My shadow a vest,
these fingers my Sai.

Billowing clouds
clapped their thunder.
There I stood
a soleless sunder.

Brains of spaghetti,
blood the sauce.
And bent I roll
in the dregs and the dross.

Cuffed in chains
I march forward in toil.
Hanging as a mosquito net,
a diaphanous voile.

what the man looks like
now. Does he have a high
forehead and bushy
eyebrows? Is his grey hair

sticking out of his ears? Can he
hear me loud and clear? Suddenly, he
disappeared. Does he have a beer
belly? Do his pants hang low? Has his

gait turned somewhat slow? Does he
still smile like a cheshire cat? Do
all his jokes still fall flat? Has he
retired? Did he move away? Does he

have someone to hold at night? Is he
OK?? Time doesn't stand still. It moves
on like a freight train, leaving puffs of
billowing smoke and looking glass pane.

the golden leaves
turn brittle
break off the oak
and whittle
even the trees
are noncommittal

I wonder why
the ground freezes
after a cloud blew
too many sneezes
covering it in frost
all the crops are lost

I wonder why
children weep
crowded in pens
like sheep
none dive deep
they fish in shallow water
are weasels like the otter

I wonder why
the boy sports a black eye
when all that’s bruised
on the man is his ego
a whisky ******* mosquito

a footnote
at the bottom
of your page
I’m a star
taking center stage
a Napoleon Bonaparte
that only brightens with age

I won’t be
leftovers
you place
in the microwave
no Hors d'oeuvres
or strawberry preserves
I’m a smorgasbord
fit for only a lord

I won’t be
an ornament
you hang
on the tree
dangling on a wire
I’m a raging
forest fire

I won’t be
hushed
this woman
has guts
and won’t be
brushed away!

at another man’s mercy. Made
broken and little. Whittled as a piece
of wood. Splintered, as
my childhood.

I won’t be
condescended from some
man, that’s upended. No crotch
can ever cut me down
a notch.

I won't be
a glittering trophy displayed as
a float in a parade. A silky gold
toupee to cover a man's fat head. I'd
be better off dead!

I won't be
blind again, by the lies
of colorful men. Actors on a stage
till their next rampage.

of some man, a side effect of
his ignorance. I won’t be disposable. I
won’t be mundane. I’m not a Rubik’s cube
where all the rows of colors must

line up the same.  I won’t be a Potato Head
hoping someone will come and fill up
my holes. I don’t follow a pattern. Nobody’s going
to hit my buttons like Simon. You can rely

on this. I’m my own unique specialist. I’m my
own authority. This isn’t the Game of Life where you
have a proxy. I will be no pawn that only moves
along one square at a time. I’m in my prime

and I’m going to shine!

as peat on the bog
a planted seed
the fat bullfrog
sleeping in the reeds

I’m the wind
I’ll slap your face
mess up your coiffure
and just as the air
take all the space

I won’t be overlooked
as wet cut hair
that falls to the floor
from the old barber’s chair

I’m the scissors
sharp and shiny
the pointed edge
the sun and the briny

I won’t be overlooked
as a hush
the dew on the grass
I’m the morning’s rush
the horns blowing
the beating pavement
a traffic jam
a star-made firmament

downvoted
bullied
suspended
masked
distanced
cut-down
like a tree
I fall
heavy

I’ll dive. My feet are springs
to push me off. My arms are wings
careening me through the air. My eyes
are glares to light the path. If I

fall flat on my face I’ll just roll
to the next place. But I won’t sit still
as a pigeon on the windowsill looking
in the house of life. I’m the howling

wind at night. I’m the gale, the forest
fire. I’ll burn a trail before I retire. I won’t look
back with “ifs” Life is short but tall
on orders. I can jump all their borders. I’m

the bomb! My cocktail is a Molotov,
served straight up, with a twist of
rhyme. And I’ll swing from every line, high
as a string on a kite, crimson and white.

every morning. Up at 4, recording. I make
hundreds a month. But it ain’t squat. I've a
voice. But it ain't sought.  **** this
Covid ****. Have *****/will travel. Paris is real

for every woman and man. Paris isn’t on
the map for me. Dried is the ink on my passport,
tough cookies! Not to mention, this type of work

doesn’t have a pension. The exercise
to have this shape is grueling. All to have
them drooling like a rabid dog. So, I can
twirl my tongue around their log.

I want you. Want is a selfish word
that makes people obstacles.

I would never say
I need you. Need is dependency
that makes people as essential
as the air they breathe.

I would never say
I love you. I know I’m not capable of
something that goes beyond need and want.

I would say
you’re in my head. That makes you
a thought; a thought that has no need or want
thoughts are friends that ask nothing

to give you fertile ground to plant
your seeds. Maybe you’ve seeds of hope
and dreams. I’ll water them and shine

a rainbow prism of lights, colors magnified
for you. And we, you and I can go from there,
building rainbow bridges, stitching up the niches,

fixing up the glitches. We’ll scratch each
other’s itches. That’s how this works, you know.
You can’t do that with prose!

otherwise I would keep
a diary or a journal instead

I sing to be heard
otherwise I would sing
in the shower

some like me
some don’t
most can’t figure me out

most can’t figure themselves
out either –

ya’ll just need to take a breather

all the Ivy leagues –
Yale, Princeton and Harvard
No one could say I was a coward
I told them my story
Sent it in a video
Wrote it in a paperback
Willing to enlist every high-brow’s flack
Put it out on YouTube
About his abuse
It’s called ******
Some go to jail for it
It’s masked as love
It’s made in the shade of shame
Hidden in the therapy room
Buried with the dust –
Under his couch
Crouched in the woman’s pantaloons
In the heads of the best –
Of all who swoon
And lied to defend
Those ****** afternoons

of eyes
that can see
a peony
from poison ivy
and hold it close
to so breast
and with eyes
caress

I yen for a clean set
of ears
that can hear
a harpsichord
from nails
on a chalk board
and dance to the notes

I yen for a clean set
of lips
that can string
a song
from a holler
sing the beauty
without a collar
take a cracked, dried frown
turn it upside/down

I want it because I don’t know how
not to want it. Though I didn’t have
the aching need to fill the crave years ago
before I gave myself over to it. I did

to replace you, your touch and your
love because I was too weak to stand on
my own. And now I’m fighting against
the want. And it feels like running against

the wind. And I’m fatiguing. Ready to
collapse. And all those years that’ve elapsed
I can’t get back. And all I need is a jack to
lift this old flat. Got one?

A raven beard
Thick velvet hair parted to the left
like a black swan’s wing
Chestnut eyes that light up
as times square when you smile

The neurotic stare
A rebel air of disregard
On a five-foot nine frame
with a six-pack and bulging biceps

No underwear would you wear
No soap or deodorant
Only shampoo for your hair
You curled up like a baby in my lap
with your head laying on my breast
It felt like ******

The Duquesne University degree
hung on your office wall
A catholic boy raised
with a heavy-handed father
whose fist pounded out all his frustrations
on a frail little boy
And a mother who stood by and closed her blind eyes

And the lies, Jimmy
So many lies/You hid a wife
You held me in eternity
You yourself, said it was surreal
doing couples therapy with your former patient
a borderline and married with a son living at home

And the fights, Jimmy
Pummeling my fists against your chest
Chasing me down the city street
A woman asking if she should call the police
Picking me up and throwing me inside
your 1.5-million-dollar condo
Shaking me until I cried

And the *** –
You made me beg
I went down on my knees to please you
Told you my fantasies
We weren’t supposed to be
You took an oath “do no harm”

Then the complaint to the board
And the demand letter that followed -
$100, 000 dollars
And the lawyers
That was the last straw for you –

June 16, 2017
was your last day/you collapsed
age: 62
They moved you back to Woonsocket, Rhode Island
with your father and three brothers

This was love, Jimmy
Love as only we could know it
Love was fists
Love was lies
Love was staring down at each other in the eyes

at the bottom
of the *******

Jack box. After wading
through rocks of sugar-
coated clumpy munchies

you end up with a scrunchy
that snaps as you
have it hold your pony.  Not

real, a phony covered in
thin paper. Thin as a wafer. If
you savored the edible trip

you could have lapped
the journey of cardboard
that pulled all the chords of

your red velvet harp. But no! You’ve
a tummy-ache and a rubber snake
for your woes!

Just a little

enough
for you to know.
Too much and you’ll be gone.
There’s always the danger
when one caries on.
Gushing and gushing in love.
Shut Up!

Just a little
more
still holding back.
Sometimes one has insufficient tact.
In matters of the heart
it’s a balancing act.
Gushing and gushing in love.
Shut Up!

Just a little
Oops!
Should have stopped
at the second stanza!
I did not.

pelting rain
you're soaking wet. No umbrella.
Cold water seeping through your chest.
You're not dressed for this
weather. Your hair looks like a rat,
flat and sticking to the wrinkles
on your face. You shiver to the bone
all the way home.

Just because it stopped
blowing 137 knots. You fought it
off. But the hurricane left a wreckage
of debris, downed houses, buildings
and trees. The neighbors
forced to flee.

Just because it stopped
them from calling you names
it didn't ***** out the flame. The rage
gutted you inside. They burned your
skin alive.

isn’t good enough. You got
to pull the end of your rope
if you want to move up. And if
one person can’t because they haven’t

the strength they must rely on
the strength of the other, not to only
hold on but to pull themselves
forward. I am weak, my friend. I am

barely holding up my end. I’ve
had my thoughts of letting go. Though
the thoughts are fleeting even so, I need
an extra pair of arms to grip and tug

as I’m falling. Will you be that set
of arms, my friend? Will you keep me up,
prevent me from falling? Just enough until
I’m stable? Do think you can? Are you able?

We don’t need
all the stars
in the sky –
just one for this gal
and one for this guy

We don’t need
all the flowers
in spring
just one that is sturdy
and one that will swing

We don’t need
all the hours
in the day
just one for the road
and one that is gay

We don’t need
lots of dollars
in our purse
just one for the worse
and one for this verse!

Karma is a Spider

A Spider that spins cotton candy gets stuck in
her own sticky web. The squirrel that hoarded all the nuts
in autumn soon forgets where he buried them when the ground
is covered by winter’s white blanket. A sheep that turns his back

on his own flock gets lost in the woods and runs into
a wolf that’s up to mischief. They never did find the wandering sheep who was eaten up by his own freedom. But they saw
a smiling wolf, looking content as usual the next

morning. Karma is a spider caught in her own web. It’s a
hoarding squirrel that soon forgets when the ground looks different. It’s an unscrupulous sheep that meets his end by something more undaunted and cunning than him.

Keep Going

It’s often those who have the least to say
that talk the most. And why is it that those
who have the most to cover up remain exposed? Why do
people bother to listen to their jargon? They’re a bunch

of hypocrites that form themselves in snot-nosed
cliques. They always have to have the final word. And that’s not enough for them. They want people to suffer,
feel chagrined. Sadistic people get off hurting others

using religion and spirituality as a moral compass to cover everything. It gives them legal claim. I don’t know what’s worse, the patronizing ones that smile in your face and stab you
in the back or the ones that hurl the stones right at you

and attack.  Either way, they try to knock you down. Haven’t you had enough of this? When is it ever going to end? It never
is. Keep going. Keep doing your thing. It will eventually
drive them insane. Their efforts to stop you are in vain.