When brunettes see me stop and stare
I wonder what hides beneath their glare
Under by and by smiles
I'm pathetic,
And watch
Walk through each like an aisle

Beauty, hair,
It's everywhere!
Long, long summer length
Bold of shine and full of strength
It's been so long, I've watched mine grow
But it still won't reach down to my toes
Hair, Hair, Hair


Blonde here, red there
Straight impossible thick or fair

I like men,
Not the latter
But that doesn't matter
Because the locks of men cannot compare
To a brunette that makes me stop and stare.

Her bare feet slapped against the pavement.
Tulle skirt stuck to her sweaty thighs.
The first drop fell.
Rain came that day.

Arms outstretched, she started to twirl.
Until the footsteps came near.
Out of time with the thunder claps and bursts of light.
She stopped and stared.

He was there.
Drenched in the rain.
Watching.
She laughed and pulled him to dance with her.

i am streaming

like feathers and electric cords

across the floor

my hair is spread
like spilled water
over this persian rug that i lay upon


i spread my legs

jolene
i am naked

and waiting for you


i am
hungry

and i am

weak
from running

but the sweat
feels like a cold shower


and i cringe
and wince
from the pleasure
i tremble


from every flick
and every lick


oh, jolene


i would pay so much more than thirty dollars

for the pleasure you bestow upon me

thank god for the *******.

Gazing into the bright dome of the sky
Through veils and drifting continents of cloud
Suspended lost dimensions travel by
I hear the universe dreaming aloud.

Infinity reflected in a lake
Deep mirror to the heavens far above,
Where reeling kestrels fly for flying's sake
Where breezes sigh like whispered words of love

Love lead me to infinities of blue
With endless depths of cloudscapes on all sides
To ride with kestrels; oversee the view
Which hitherto I'd seen with earthbound eyes.

For always with us, high above the crowds,
They glide; shape-shifting monuments of clouds.

B cup
C cup
but D cup, the better.

A nip,
a tuck—
reverse the clock.

For beauty’s the past,
and beauty’s the young.

Thus,
reupholster the fruit of the womb
and iron the sags low.
Recapture the past glow,
for after all,
the future is wherever you don’t exist yet.

I have wide hips, a wide waist.
chubby cheeks and
short legs
given to me

by my mother.

she is not a witch.
she has wrinkles, yes
but they do not define her
nor would she let them.

I have no interest in making friends with fish,
small birds,
candlesticks or clocks,
or rodents.


I need human contact to survive.

If you put me alone in a house in a forest,
I will not clean.  
I will not wait to be saved.
I will not ask for your permission to go outside.

I will leave.


I do not need a prince to live happily ever after.

I have short bushy hair
and a ******.
yes, it's there.
underneath my cotton underwear and long lace skirts
that no one is telling me to wear.

I have a sister.
I go to her for advice.
I look up to her and I talk to her about
Everything anything everything

I do not need a prince.



I look up to my mother.
She is not a source of fear,
she is a source of comfort
and relief.


what are We teaching our daughters?

these imaginary princesses
teach our babygirls

to have long eyelashes
to have two inch waists
long luscious hair
*** appeal


and if they don't,

they will never live happily ever after.

If I need all that to get one,

I do not want a prince.

I do not want to be anyone's
cinderella.

I will not chase after anyone
if they choose to leave.

I will weep into my sister and mother's shoulders

But that poor,
poor
princess

will always be chasing
squirrels
to talk to

and men
to be saved by.

When will we teach them to save themselves?


When will they teach themselves
that there is no such thing as perfect