She was built on shattered dreams,
promises frayed at the seams,
wishing wells where hope waits at the bottom,
until the end of a golden summer greets autumn.

She never wanted the weight
of a thousand knives like freight,
all twisting flesh on her back,
circling around a single track.

Still, she runs her fingers along the rips,
collecting light on her fingertips—
a glow in darkness she will bear,
not to be consumed, but always there.

Stain on my neck
the lips that pecked
in the parking lot
night hot
wore that sweater
one with the feather
image on the chest.

Stomach butterflies in flight
you offered me a light
cigarette between teeth
ignited by our heat
forehead sweat streams
you are now
my cigarette daydream.

The quiet ache in the pit
is not only because I want you
but because a part of me recognizes
that it needs you.

Your eyes will never know me
but mine softly glow for you
as undying emeralds
cut from your light.

where every poem starts
and every ends,
where we are stunned,
where we are thirsty and the thirst is
never quenched,
where there is something that breaks
and i can't bring back although it
burns me to dust, love was not our
miracle but the dying was, the flames
never quenched like the blues of the stars
little rivers,
don't bring me fire to bury me in flame,
bring me oceans of black ink to colour
the night, bring me your love.

the light flutters like ribbons,
the light gold leaf and flickering

amber, the light tenuous in her
gentleness, slumbering with her whims

and her sleep of blue earth, and air,
breath of joy, breath of dust.

night holds us and her daydreams are
a forgotten song, and night is like

the streams of water that awaken with
summer and her cool rivers of air, night with

her paradise far from the gathering
of limb and ledge, far from the leaves

of the dusk where the shadows tremble and the
water turns itself into tears, and we hear the

ghosts cry to the pretty sky,
sometimes we hear the ghosts cry.

They called her triple scoop at school cuz she was kind of plump
she was made of ice cream, so all day long she ran and ran and ran  
Sliding in and out of freezers  just to gather herself up in a clump
They called her "Dairy Queen Of Junior High" she never got a tan

Flavored in three Neapolitan colors she came, now that is insane !
She dolloped to wallop, d turning away from the sun, run Queenie run
Oh how sweet but how melty she dripped each time it began to rain
The only thought through her head was, " I might as well be a nun !"

Then one day she met Mr. Freezer, who lived in an Igloo by the Artic
come live with me & we will make snowballs all day and play ...
It was best to live in the cold, for that was her honest prognostic !
together they thrived and felt good in that place called, " Snowsway"

Heaven is a place where only with the eyes of hope,  
                               can it truly co-exist !  
Heaven is a special place where innocent children,  
                                       become Angels !
Heaven is a journey for those who believe in
                                     the after life !
Heaven is at the centerpoint of every loving being who  
                      longs to find their loved ones once again !
Heaven is the venue of those who believe and trust
                                   that we will one day return
Heaven is Michelangelo's Last Judgement at the Alter wall
                                      of the Sistine Chapel !
Heaven is a whereabout, a location vageuly represented
                                          and understood only with the heart
Heaven is a place of Salutation for  the rich and the  poor            
                                     everyone is welcome in heaven !

I do not know your name—
only your silhouette
etched in the echo of things I was not given.
Your absence was my alphabet.
I spelled every woman with your ghost.


They loved me.
But I loved you through them.
Your hands behind their voices.
Your eyes haunting their praise.
They were flesh, and I was kneeling.


I made gods of strangers.
I made homes of hunger.


Mother—not mother.
Lover—not lover.
I could not hold the difference.
They all became symbols
and I became a shrinekeeper,
tending lies with tenderness.


Forgive me,
those I touched but never saw.
I was trying to reach through you
and forgot you were not them.
And they were not you.
None of you asked for this altar.


I am dismantling the myth.
I am returning the light.