A dream is fading fast and I open my eyes

Cold.

But I can feel loves warm breath on my neck

Blue.

The color of the light that floods across the floor and over the edge of my bed.

I kiss loves forehead and walk to the window

Shades of Grey

The ice has glazed everything over and seems to have taken color with warmth.

Shiny, Cold, and Dead.

The bringer of my warmth and my life calls to me, telling me the world has stopped

And I lie with love once more...

And fade back to dreams

My mother is Mother Nature.
My mother is mother Earth.

She bore me like a seed and nourished me with her body.
Strong and true, even if abused and dirtied.

Cares for me with all she has, and all she will have
Envelops me in her love-zone to nurture and grow.

Will care for me even after I've grown tall and seeded my own.

She'll stomach the loss of all the riches that have been taken from her
Will hide her pain to keep me safe for as long as she can

And when she can't

When her rivers of tears run dry
and her mountain of strength cracks

When her burning core of a heart cools
and all does black and the flow has ended

She'll leave a story, a tell-tale rock
Of how she tried.

A sunny serenade of Cyan Skies

On a Strangely soothing Sunday afternoon

In the south wing



The White Rabbit tells me about

Beautiful Butterflies batting their wings

To the beat of a bohemian movement

and I blush at the gesture

And

The Mad Hatter tells me about

The Kevorkian crawdads clawing at each other

Under the crystal clear stream

Bent like a Candy Cane

And I cry for the dead.



I hear her, I hear her

But I also hear the

Marsh Hare

And

The Marsh Hare tells me about

The analytical anarchists armed with arms

Marching around the inner atrium screaming

"All hail Anarchy!", "All hail Anti-Society!"

Aiming for the heart

And I amaze myself



I hear her, I hear her

And because of her I hear

The chains and restraints



The Queen of Hearts tells me about

My fantasies of White Rabbits

My dreams of Mad Hatters

My imaginings of Marsh Hares

And how only she is real



The straps are too tight

The clothes too thin

The walls too thick



And she stabs me

With a Red Rose

All in white, The Queen of Hearts Says


Wake Up Alice


And now I can see

My sunny afternoon is shady

And

I am barred from my butterflies.

The Red Curtain Parts

JUNE

The world was gray that morning
Sticky dew on the ground
Like sleep in the corners of my eyes
Feeling Empty and cold
I hear her departure

The Final Act of Chasity Donloe had begun.


SCENE ONE

A rainy day, in a harsh city
In a steely room that smelled of iron
Was when she took
Her final bow.

Wrapped in white, Accented in red
Was a mask
The face of a Love
Many Loves
Enveloped in fuchsia hair
Soft, wide lips, and cold
The audience sighs in recognition
The mystery solved.


SCENE TWO

Carted away on steely wings
Hearing the cry of a lonely mother
Feeling the grip of an angry brother

I forget my line
And the curtain
Is Drawn

The end of Chasity's Act.
No Applause Please,
Not until all
Have made their exits



Thank you.

Liner runs thin
as I examine the skin
where I look for a tell-tale mark
Left of a ring that would prove
I'm not alone.
(it's not there)

My back arches and
my body quakes
as deep inside
Infantile sexuality wakes
as my lips let fly
assumed and guessed sighs
of fabricated pleasure
(whatever that is)

They did not teach me these things
I was left to assume
as hearts often do
when they are kept in a room
and ushered away from the pains and joys
of Love

I stare into a mirror
and I stare back
Until all of a sudden
my smile cracks
and I'm left to stare
into the eyes of one
born to lose.

I hug warm pillows
and stroke my own hair
Until I realize he
is not
wasn't
and will never be there
and I'm left to assemble
a Shattered Glass Heart
with nothing but hammers for tools

But then I see myself
beauty and flaws defined
and at this point I know
the only glass heart I need
is mine
even in pieces, it retains it's strength
and waits to be whole again

So dormant I sit
mesmerized by the prisms the pretty pieces make
as I wait
for a true artist to come
and give this
Shattered Glass Heart
new form
with the heat of reassuring and shared existence
and the grace of gentle words and sweet kisses.