We laid there
Untop of pitch
Wading in water’s sound
The spot surrounded by an absent crowd
They awaited our voices
We sang, we kissed
Never did the sun shadow us
Not for a second did we want to move
In the heart of the process
In the absence of home
We found something else

If  both  husband
and  wife  are in
  hotel  and  hospital

   who  will  work
your  home  work.




   Your  train ed  dig-Alexa, Siri  or  Google

                          or
your  payment  taking
       servants.


If  both  enjoy    the
parts  high
then  who  will  care

   your  old  father
mother  who  are
in  ill  stage.



Your   pregnant  robot.
Your  son's girlfriend.
Your  surrogate  sister.

you stand among us,
as though we were not shattered when
you took apart all that we made
to give you...

and i become that seething
sniveling,
mess on the floor...
when you tell me that you are leaving again,
as if i didnt just
create love to place in
your hands,

a kiss and a blooming rose, you
are all that i am,
and yet
still i feel lonely,

empty,
as you stand before me,
naked and in pieces,

but singing on a stage that i made just
for you.

A Bird in a Cage (Villanelle)

I am a bird in a gilded cage
where I cannot spread my wings,
a scared girl wanting to rule the stage.

Like a world renowned sage
unable to say anything,
I am a bird in a gilded cage.

Like a storybook missing a page,
a fictional kingdom without a king,
a scared girl wanting to rule the stage.

A longing nothing can assuage
but to win the fight and hear the cheers ring,
I am a bird in a gilded cage.

Maybe one day at a different age,
a hope to which I constantly cling,
a scared girl wanting to rule the stage.

A war in my soul ever waged,
with fear as the victor, I refuse to sing.
I am a bird in a gilded cage,
a scared girl wanting to rule the stage.

loving you is like mapping stars,
tracing constellation after constellation,
never wanting to finish.

loving you is like soft whispers,
persistent, underlying my heart,
my heartbeats and breath and smile.

loving you is my hands shaking at times,
softly trembling,
touching the air with gentle taps.

loving you is like dance,
feeling the lights warm your skin -letting the glow cover you,
and being a diamond -allowing your heart to lay you out.

loving you is like the stage
because you’ve never felt an energy like this,
never let it consume you.

loving you is hope,
trust that we’ll be something great,
trust in fever dreams and laid out plans.

loving you is like sleepless nights,
because we’re moving and moving,
too busy dreaming to stop.

loving you is like a story,
sleepless nights and coffee and pacing,
thumbing through pages until you fall asleep on your keyboard.

this is what loving you is like.

THAT in my fever while sanity has escaped by baluster
i continue to gaze in daze across the sea of white-
capped madness

Each o-shaped mouth
Each Black-bead eye
and all the ears
     all the chins
             teeth

  speak an infinite story of nothing but sadness.
And within the orchestral pit finely dressed musicians
they shed b-flat note tears; their mannequin powder-white
skin a color of pink's sunsetting murmur.

Simply, the true story is off stage toward this
improbable army audience; the finely carved polychrome
citizens start to move;  half-bodied and more alive
than the flesh-kingdom.

   Last night.  Last night i felt.  
That one's life can be as real as one's imagination
   if you sinerely wish it.

:: 08-23-2018 ::

Panicked mechanical howls
echo off the silver moon
blankets the summer crisp air
blending in with the ghosts of the weeds
and the angels in the trees
flashing lights blocading the streets
in hopes of preventing tragedy
every night it’s Hamlet out on this street
this stage has been played a hundred times
the ending never changes