like a child does with a box
of colored chalk on the sidewalk. And I skipped
and hopped on each square, with one leg up. And
pleasure was the order of the day. That was then,

when I placed the world on the hot
cement. After each rainfall, and the brush of
the leaves or the chill of the snow the colors bleed
into a possum. And we both wondered if

it’s dead or alive. Did we contrive
what it was when it lit the whole **** street -
was merely a figment, a child-like dream.

anger? What do I do with this
rage? I’ve been disregarded

as a ***** napkin after you ate, as a left-
over morsel stuck to your plate

before it was scraped
off. That just won’t do! I could

yell; I could scream. I could curdle like
cream. I could bang the pots and pans - cry

unleash the river dam. That just won’t do!
I could quietly hold it in. But quietly I’ve never

been. So, it’s going to come out in some evil
misdeed or whatnot with the greatest

force of ten-thousands elephants riding
the dark horse.

Banjo twangs footpads on the hood
Chirps of birds eight cylinder ****** low roar of lion lust
A colloidal rust like metal out side the closed door upon its front a rap a knock a lightly tapping dot dot dot
Upon the inner ear is must have
Heard is must have been was seen
Long or near a time had been
That ****** a love sick note upon the metal roof or cedar floor calls a memory a dream but hooting owls do this at dark not upon a stark bright light who bays howls screams and cries I hear in earthen things and bowels barreling forth forlorn the calling masks an earthly scowl I have been misbehaved to take her gifts with no display of gratitude I gave or bow it any interlude to pray to gods gods or her the mother of all
Of our nature things

I have put my faith
in men of your kind
all my life

deluded into thinking
my sanctuary lay in
being cradled by your arms

only to have my heart
ripped open, as a child
might tear off the petals
of a rose

as thoughtlessly
and gleefully

as I lay scattered across the floor,
bleeding a substance that is not blood,
but the very nectar of my soul

I make a vow to never again be
so recklessly in need of love
that I ignore my gut instinct

to run

and keep running

until I find sanctuary within myself,
until I become in tune with the beat of
my own heart, content with it's gentle rhythm,
to know that this is who I am, this is my purpose,
and this is who I need to stand for,

because when I am
at peace with myself
maybe I will see through
the likes of you