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woman.
house of fire and hope
and light.
woman.
canvas where loveliness and
fierceness blend.
woman.
ocean of flowers and life.
garden where all things wonderful grow.
woman.
you.
Sludge black driveways
holding hazardous mindsets.

Back of his head is made of
white canvas; red strap; yum-yum.

You can see body in the window.
Cut like a Valley Girl diamond.

Brown ***** hair, faint.
Narrow shoulders, pointed.

Brows arch like arrowhead;  
floating above callous constellations.

Snarls of smoke from his cig;
dragging filter like a conscience.

He studies her while she studies
how life looks around her neck.

Closer to midnight, says Darling.
Gotta let her live in a dream-mo.

Inside the piggy bank, gold looks
like memories 'round her nape.

Peeking into the mirror's reflect,
mouthing her name, twirling hips.

What a time to be a star; stable
inside the crown of debris.

Completely secure in nakedness,
a streak of light swims closer.

Black bear fur, harboring glittery
fleas; her eyes look out and up.

It is as close as anyone ever tried.
Non-stop destruction, seductive.

Darling says, look at her look.
He takes a picture with his phone.

**** beauty, ******* to
the assertiveness of annihilation.

Looking at the picture, he curses
himself for not upgrading.

A fire overflows, as she has
one hand on her stomach and
another on her purse.
 May 2017 Irate Watcher
Emily B
I've wiped the coffee table
Down with windex
At least three times.

But here I sit.

Watching them wander
Trying to remember
To breathe.

And waiting for details
Of my brother's suicide.
Truth is always stranger than fiction. And stranger describes my brother well.
We will know no sorrows here..

Dark matter poured taut
in ebon plastic,
elegent, limber, perched on spikes.
Confined in chosen monochrome,
so lithe in gritted temper.

Full fraught on waves of jaw - smoke,
tumble nails from this wretched pelt.
Enscribe my will
on soft , ribbed, levees
Spread and buttered oysters
downed , your earthy spices ground
against my viscid grin.

Now raise the dead in frantic transport
Sound the depths of this cracked voice
Imagining....

We will know no sorrows here.
i am standing in front of you
and you don’t see me
i am the moon and stars
but you only see the night
i am the poetry in songs
but you don’t pay attention to my music
and then
you wonder
why i hide
from you
why my voice turns into silence
when you pass by
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