I want to be subtle
adroit
mysterious
instead my thoughts
thrash about
for all the world to see
like worn sheets
blowing
in the wind
clumsy and drab

what I write sounds insipid
no mystique
no complexity

I call to my Muse
she does not come

what would it take to bribe her
I'll sell my soul to her
does she not know this

I'll give her my heart
doesn't she know
it's already hers

others have steadfast muses
who walk with them
who dream for them
then
guiding their hands
recall those dreams

my muse doesn't dream anymore
not at night
not in the day

my mind is dull and bare
a dust-bowl farm
nothing grows
winds removing
layer
          after
                     layer

my heart and soul arid
like parched
white
desert bones
lying lonely
on expanse
of
graveyard

where nothing moves
save tumbleweed
brittle
and empty

where barbed
sentinels
hoard
the moisture
within
tough
impenetrable
skin


will there come
a rainy season

will there?

will springs refill
the well?

I feel I have to be
bigger than life
flinging myself into
the arms of the world
with total abandon

Lest I be swallowed up
by unnoticed detail
****** into the eye
of the storm
that place of no happening
ringed by my frenzy

I have to be the one
who supplies enthusiasm
who lights candles
decorates
tries to make packages
pretty
with curly ribbons
fancy paper
maybe even sparkles

The frou-frou stuff

If I didn't
what then?


For holidays
we'd eat
at a naked table
(and I don't mean
picnic fare)
our food on paper plates
without
a single eyebrow
raised

it's tough to be
outnumbered
"outgunned"
by testosterone

though over the years
I've toned down
the frou-frou just a bit
I smile
do what I can
and live my life
like the Little Red Hen

Your Eyelashes

once
we fought for so long
we fell alseep on
the same train bed
and once
i woke up
i couldn't
wind down
again
telly tubby bedsheets
shifted with my sighs
squirrels raced across the rooftop
scatter, slide and
scratch
at the door
because halen wanted in
but that ancient cat could wait
for i was drawn to trace
the milkweed bangs
and cheerio lips
choo-chooing there beside me
and when i did
kissing your cheek
felt like
smoothing a
butterfly band-aid
over where i
shoved you earlier
felt like
kissing a peach
no spice and shouts and
shhhh
i learned to count
past twenty that way
it'll cool off the rage
mama used to say
just take deep breaths and
count four handfuls worth of digits
so
in through my nose
out through my mouth
in the
nite-lite angel's glow
i numbered
the precious fringe
of tiny golden rainbows
archways to the world
swimming in your irises
in your dreams
and on my
fingers
i had to start
all over
each time your
eyelids
fluttered

you stirred
i learned
to call you
beautiful
in a special whispered way
beneath your
soft little arm
i tucked the lavender bunny
that had been our
tug of war

you can have it all,
buddy
just drift back to sleep
so maybe come morning
i'll know how
to count to thirty

My heart speaks one voice, while my brain another.
My soul lies in a place,
Where no mankind can ace.

Help me, i’m lost..
Lost in a world full of darkness and hope.