She gracefully walked into the ocean
Her dress flowing behind her
Welcoming the waves,
It seemed,
As an old friend.
She looked to the horizon-
Smiling,
As she dipped below the surface.

When she disappeared,
Some questioned whether she had drowned,
But no,
The Selkie had simply
Returned to her home
In the depths of the sea.

A grin with thin rimmed glasses,
smiles with delight
as she speaks to her sprites,
whispering
with hands wide,
telling them to listen to
her tale of things that go
bump in the night.

“When I was very young
there was a crooked old tree
that sat savagely waving
down the road from me,
a mess of gnarled branches
that looked like they could
grab you up and take a bite.

One day I went out to play,
saw a small squirrel,
and chased it all the way.
Until, it climbed up that
wooden monstrosity.

Distracted,
I did not notice
how the grass reacted,
shrinking under my foot falls.
I failed to see
how far I had actually gone,
because to my little mind
the distance from my yard
to that tree was shorter,
but in reality, it seemed to be
approaching me rapidly
as what was behind
faded out of sight.

Daylight became night
quicker than expected,
and I suspected
that I should go home,
but when I turned around
I found that I was lost,
and all alone.

I heard a twig snap,
then felt a limb smack
me on my lower back.
My body seemed to contract
as I lost my breath,
and a fog of coldness
washed over my flesh.

The wind lifted
a small pile of leaves
revealing tiny
black shiny beings,
a nest of chittering beetles
that started skittering
ever closer.

I cried out. No sir,
and tried to hoof it out of there,
but I had lost my sense direction
and didn’t know where
my small house was.

A little bug
that looked like
a hairy brown spider
leaped up on my dress.
I quickly flicked it off,
then flinched when
I heard something
purring.

I turned in time to see
a small pair of glowing eyes
focused directly on me.

The feline
passed by
rubbing gently
against my thigh,
and then strutted away.

I followed that kitty,
and I thought we
were heading back to my city.

We passed a stone fence,
and a small wooden hut,
a little gas station
that didn’t have much,
plus a tiny graveyard
and a busted gray car.

I walked so far
that my feet got blisters,
saw a stranger,
and cried out, hey mister,
but he didn’t even turn around.

I kept going not knowing
if I would ever get back.
Nervously, I started to laugh.
I had probably snapped,
cause I was scared and starving.

It was dark and cold,
and I couldn’t find
anyone to help me.
People didn’t even
acknowledge my presence
unless I bumped into them.
I tried to speak,
but no one would listen.

I never got home,
just settled here
in this little cottage
for the last
seventy plus years.

No one has stopped by,
in such a long time
so thanks for listening
to this story of mine.

Now, come closer my little dears,
because I am soooo hungry.
I don’t want to be rude,
but you look like food.

Why are you running?

You see when you heard me calling,
you shouldn’t have listened,
like me,
you to are now missing,
but I know where
your new home will be.
There’s a place in my stomach
because it is so empty.”

The little old lady smiled,
chasing the last small child,
with a sharp tap on his neck
she laid him to rest
in a well-dressed bed
of greens and liquid red.

Sometimes we slip through the cracks
fall down a hole or trip into the looking glass
and never manage to find our way back.

Innocence is betrayed as it is parlayed into
the whole growing up thing that
we don’t want to do.

Playmates fade away as we lose yesterday.
Their faces blur then just disintegrate,
along with the games and stories we made.

Time becomes the anchor that weighs us down
as we struggle and drown in deadlines.
Playful pixies dust fantasies are lost to these
important and emerging responsibilities.

Teddy Bear hugs and fairytale love
become the stuff of forgotten hopes,
and with each romantic advance rejected
the dreamer dejected retreats to
the safety of a stale and scheduled reality.

Till the mirror reflects the inner sadness.
Our shoulders slump, skin sags, and wrinkles,
as our eyes lose that sly Peter Pan twinkle.

-2023

In the dark I can

see what I want, like a book --


a bed, my mother.

Under the bottom

the star clusters angrily --


stare at the people.

Father's green leather

briefcase is in the kitchen--


filled with many dreams.

What would you do if I knocked on your door tonight? You used to say I was always welcome anytime. Does that offer still stand, or has it expired? If my name popped up on your phone, would you answer it or let it ring? You said I could call you if I needed you, but that’s the thing—I never needed you, and I still don’t need you, but God, I want you so badly. It’s been 20 days and I can’t get you out of my head, and lord knows I’ve tried.
 I just want to be in your bed with our bodies entangled as close as we can get to one another, our lips getting chapped from kissing for hours. 
I hate feeling like we are unfinished business, a half-finished house, that's waiting for the tiles to come in. I just got the call letting me know the tiles came in, baby. So come back and let’s finish building this house so I can come home.

On the peak I dream

of La Vie Parisienne --


in Tijuana.

As night spreads its ribbons of darkness
Loneliness taps at my window pane,
But too lost in reverie am I
To pay heed to its doleful refrain

Wishful thinking helps me to escape
From the madness of Life's fickle ways;
Though make-believe is a tangled web,
I thrive in its ethereal haze

How sweet the proverbial nectar
That flows from his lips onto mine;
What bliss I derive from a romance
Only my wild impulse could design

I swoon at his expressions of love
Sung and spoken in poetic verse;
(Though at times my heart scoffs at pretense,
Seeing not a  blessing, but a curse)

Yet, when I gaze deep into his eyes
I thrill to see love's reflection there;
He need only take hold of my hand
And together we climb Heaven's stair

O, how painful  are the loveless hours
Of reality I must endure;
In my dreary solitude I find
Wishful thinking holds a strange allure

Ah! but then reality holds sway ---
Once again the snake devours the dove;
But wishful thinking soon restores my peace
With its exquisite mimicry of love!