I don't want you to bother
building up a thick lather,
your shower-soaped hand
moving between your legs,
then reaching the long-way round to
spread yourself wide open, bending forward
just so that you can drag the steel edge of a razor across
your soft skin

I’ve never stood
in a field of wild flowers and
thought it to look overgrown

You don’t need a single drop of perfume
on your *******, near your *** or on
your sheer white tank as I don’t mind
the taste or scent
of your sweat,
dripping
from your summer skin,
glistening in the
afternoon heat.

No need to burn
your soft long locks between
two tongs,
to pull them taut, or blow them dry
to make them straight.

Your curls,
untamed and  
and unpredictable
need no refinement;
I'll follow them as they
twist and turn

I want you my love,
unvarnished,
unapologetic,
unfinished,
unrealistic,
and most
assuredly
unshaven.

We had *** yesterday.
Reminded me of the cover
Of a Harlequin Romance.
You, the school librarian in the foreground,
Hair up, glasses on a chain, reading.
Me, the Principal in the background,
Just entering your workroom door.
But, back to reality.
The breeze flipped the curtain corner
Along your bronzed leg, and you looked up and smiled.
Was it something you read, the thought in my head,
Or the breath of joy passing by?
Out through the screen, now open in Spring,
To bring the irises to move and radiate.
A breeze that ruffled and teased.
You directed your eyes, bent to your book,
Pleasured and pleased as me
The lace tail fell back to the sill.
Your leg never moved.

she repeats their songs silently to herself
her daughters are never alone
moments are grown in tiny islands
robes of feathers and fire sweaters
woven on the loom of time
i am behind though the front is fine with me
your child is flesh yet a luminous blessing
through which god comes inside you
and throws your life for a ride
your dungeons need sweeping
so clean out your chimneys
and make space for the goddess
in each of your ceremonies
no longer asleep at the wheel
i heal through work and labor
upon the earth and on paper
in the garden our friends wept
for their frightened selectivity
we can no longer exclude
the rude parts of our self

Spinning in circles that have square corners
I'm the new Broadway sensation

The moon is wearing  surprise pink gel
And the wind is rosining it's bow

The Marquee is lighted by roman candles
That change colors as you observe

My name is carved into pumpkins
Lit from inside by gold sparklers

The Phantom Toll Booth is housing Will Call
And the ushers are all wearing drag

The Animal Rights folks are picketing
The unkind treatment of frogs

The clearing of throats often hurts them
And we're all a long way from the pond

My costume is still at the cleaners
So I'm dressed as somebody else

The fourth wall is now made of plaster
And my double is lost in the wings

I look but I can't see the footlights
Through the fog machine's oily haze

The prompter's asleep in the Green Room
And the Concert Master is ******

The Conductor is wearing a trainman's hat
But the Midnight Special won't be stopping here

Like me, it's gone off the rails once again
And there's nobody home in the Roundhouse

The outside decided to come on back inside
But all the seats now are taken

I need to stop twirling - I'm dizzy
I overlooked taking a point

There's somebody up in the flies
I think I see sandbags beginning to swing

I can't hear the music;  the air is too loud
And too many people are breathing

That isn't applause after all - it's thunder
And my key light has faded to three

My funniest line drew no laughter
And I've got to exit stage left

The curtain call was a barrel house polka
And no one presented me flowers

The stage door is painted an angry red
and it needs to be painted coal black

I'm back outside where I've always belonged
And no one is waiting to greet me

With autograph book and stub of a pen
Guess I might just as well walk on home
                     LJM

A rich bird in
a golden cage
Saw the bars
& was enraged!

She couldn't fly
up to the stars
So beat herself
against the bars!

Again! AGAIN!
For all her wealth
She could never
free herself!

She wouldn't stop!
Would not sing...
Finally, she broke a wing.

With one wing
she went berserk!
She knew her methods
didn't work...

But she upped
her frenzied tack!
Finally, she
broke her back.

She looked up
as she was dying
from the floor
where she was lying

She saw the sun
and sky sublime

the cage door...
*open the whole time.

And what of ghosts haunting ghosts?
I see her dancing when I close my eyes
She twirls to the thrum of violins playing themselves
Spinning, twirling
Until the bones peek through her feet
And her skirt has beaten itself to tatters

I dreamt her as a child
And I wonder at that feat
I saw the future then, when now
I see nothing at all
Just the world spinning beyond my eyes, dizzier for my life
Twirling, endless
The music is endless
I am not.

I remember when she finally stumbles
Her ribs, her collarbones glisten pale in the lights
And the music tries again to drag her to her feet
But she is beyond its reach

Her corpse, cradled in Death's arms,
knows peace
I dreamt this, a child
The past living in circles
A prophecy, almost
That ghosts will come for ghosts
And that only corpses are beyond the music's reach.