Desperate deserter, you're
failure's like water. Liquid
and burning like fire.
Bare head is crowned with
thorns of betrayal, wrists
are punctured with the
nails of your sacrifice.
   Bury me now, in this
sacred ground.
   The life that you're living
is so unforgiving.
   **** me now with the
horrid sound,
   Of your suffering.
Clearly you're hear now.
Softly you sing out.
Words that stab me.
Words that **** me,
with longing.

I guess,

The world that burst forth
From my tender red womb
Is maniacally clawing
To get back inside,
Now,

Or am I pulling it by
It's tangled hairs?

Afterall,

I am flustered
With it wrenching
The brush from my hand,
Each time I reach out
To unravel the mess
It's made,

(Or, I made?)

Either way,

I'll let bygones be bygones,
Even if it means
Being carried away -
Lost in sterilized hair strands,
Sleeping wordlessly,
Amid

Insanely white teeth.

Do you remember me?
You kissed me
Perhaps we simply had too much to drink that night.
You tasted passion
I tasted lust
Coursing through our veins.
December was melting away
January called us to be reckless
To forget about the past and even the future.
Our fingers scrabbled to unveil one another
We knew each others hearts
We wanted to see the other in sacred ways
I tasted blood as our lips connected.
We threw ourselves across the ground
The bruises will be proof it is not all a dream
I have forgotten who I am
This moment is all I want to be right now
Here on this shaggy floor
Exchanging California breaths
Earnestly hoping I have not forgotten a segment of your body with my fingers
         January is over
         February is so cold

Pretty little birdy,
Why won't you sing?
Is not the sun's warmth,
A comfort to your wings?
Have not, you flown,
In the untouched breeze,
Beside gales that dance,
Above the crowns of grand trees?
So small and delicate,
Yet, majestic and strong,
Why won't you share,
Your enchanting, sweet song?
Are not, you free,
From the iron of mankind,
From wounds of deceit,
That arrest and that bind?
Do not, you see life,
Through films of purity,
Peering through the mass of lies,
Into the heart of me?
What creature so harsh,
So greatly incomplete,
Would rob nature of its voice,
And, life of its beat?

Pretty, little birdy,
My life needs your melody.
Make my eyes smile once more.
Please, won't you sing for me?

*04.2008

fifty years later



you girls wear their old dresses
over sky
blue leggings
lace
and fabric that smells
of lost time

you found them
in stores
with high ceilings
and a sloppily simulated
rustic vibe

you love your
waists tastefully
cinched
and collar bones
concealed

you twirl before
the full length
mirrors and
wish oh how
you wish
you could
have been born
then instead of now

everything
was so much classier!
the women
were a different
kind of beautiful

women
who smoked
in their bathtubs
cardboard hairdos
unraveling

women
elbow deep in
baking
soda and dishsoap

soft secretive
smiles overtaking
their
faces
as they rattled
through the
medicine
cabinet
for a snack
(twice a day)

pregnant again
for
the fourth
time
yet
thin as a rail
somehow

ghosts
in their own
skin

silent but
deadly

crying manically
because of
the smoke
in their eyes

choking gently
on the powder
all over their tight
lovely complexions

dinner ready
at six
sharp as a rusty nail

fantasizing
about what it would be like
to fall in love
with another woman

scuffing their knees
and showing the raw
skin off to all
the young men
with sunlight left over
from childhood still
swimming in their
eyes

or walking home
in the rain
without an umbrella
and having that be ok

slapping their
own faces
at such trecherous
thoughts

obsessing
over how
their mothers did
it with
so much **** grace...

but yes
girls
their clothes
were simply
divine