☯
Tell me where to sell
my soul, and I will meet you
there; ode to myself.

☯
Full Lakota moon,
unzips me from her womb &
dismantles this love.

☯
Are you humble
to the very walls and windows
of your drifting soul?

☯
Death; just an old dog
still trying to learn new tricks;
To soften our grief.

"She was an
unusual dresser.
Every night,
she wore bruises
on her heart,
love on her lips,
pain in her eyes,
and ink on her fingers.
They called her poetry."

consistent contradictions
gambling away my
happiness to the gods,
or the devils,
i can never tell which
i can never tell which
witches are good
and which ones are bad
and i'm on the edge of
glory and humiliation.
consistent contradictions
of a woman whose heart
is not in her body but
within another's, whose
home is june and whose
jail is the present
presently prosecuting
my own **** fingers
for falling and failing
and fumbling for the
light switch
for faltering and
sweltering in the heat
of heaven or hell
i can never tell which.
i can never
tell
which.