from where you are,
If you're standing in a forest
of trees, far as you can see
everything looks emerald green.

If you’re sitting in a plane
high above the ground
what you'll see drifting by
are cotton ***** of clouds.

If you’re a vampire
your days are charcoal black.
You’ll not know the warmth
of the sun shining on your back.

You think from all you know.
A two-year-old is the center
of his world. He hasn't aged.
But give him time; he'll grow.

You think from how you're treated.
If you've been beaten by the hand
that feeds you you'll wear your scars
like stars on a flag, and see life
as a drag.

You think from where you live.
A fish hasn't breathed the air
or soared in a cornflower sky.
He'll not know what it's like to

have the wind whipping through
his feathered wings like the eagle
when he flies. He doesn't sing  
a melodic song like the oriole.

All he sees is the sea
for miles and miles. He swims and
eats and mulls. Or is swooped up
by the sharp beak of the gulls.

word
dropping a letter
she can't
she didn't
she met her wall

Broken
pledges
falling off ledges
smashing the pavement hard
living in a house of cards
Joker
roll her/smoke her shards

Broken
pieces
chipping off every day
flaking like a *******
try not to smack her

Broken
woman
will break you

Broken mirror
splitting up your face
shards of what you are
the you you cannot chase

Broken
You
Breaks up all the lines
the rules
drinking cherry wine

Broken
Down
Build
Back up

they say
it isn't you.
Words are hair spray.
Don't let them stick in your head.
Don't give them power!
Wash their dirt off in the shower.

No matter what
they do
it isn't you.
It's their projection,
in the glass.
Their own reflection,
as they pass.

No matter what
they spread,
it isn't you.
Their rumors
are twisted tumors.
Don't let them grow.
Radiate!
And then they'll slow.

No matter what
they are
it isn't you.
They're jealous
because you follow
your own rules.
You make your own plans.
You take a stand.
They sit with their distraction,
watch and take no action.

were autumn leaves. From a snap
of cold turned golden yellow
to mud brown, twisting off
falling to the ground.

Her colors
bled out in a wink
from the wash, the crimson red
to salmon pink. From bright to
dull, the sort you didn’t cull.

Her colors
peeled like an orange rind
as she was sectioned. Men
chewed her up and spit out
the seeds.

Her colors
chipped standing
in the sun. She's brittle. Flaking
she'd whittle into dust. Flying
off in a flurry.

Her colors
cracked. Someone
took an axe and hacked
her walls.

her tongue.
She spews words out!
She's so high-strung.

She doesn't hold
her temper too.
Her head is thick
like grandma's roux.

She doesn't hold
her mother's attention.
In school she’d wind up
in detention.

She doesn't hold
her end up.
But thinks herself
a real bang-up!

She doesn't hold
it all together,
floats like a dead fish
or gull's feather.

She doesn't hold
hands.
The lady's a *****,
and doesn't make plans.

my deepest, darkest secrets
bolted in a wooden trunk.
All my junk stored in the attic.
And he stood static like the cobwebs
hanging from the ceiling.

I gave him
my hairless trim body.
The ******* the half shell
spilling her sweet perfume.
In full bloom, spreading out like
eagle wings, as he held
all the strings.

I gave him
my poetry.
He ate it down like candy,
lollipops and gumdrops
toffee flavored brandy.

I gave him
my photograph
cut out in a locket.
He threw it in his pocket
and forgot it.
The colors bled out
in the wash.

I gave him
my pneuma.
He pounced on it
like a puma in the grass.
I was the air he'd come
to pass.

at the world through a pane of glass,
hunched in a chair watching time pass.
These days she's nothing to do,
except to sleep, swallow and chew.

Her legs are swollen/knees bow.
She cannot walk/has no place to go.
She flips through a woman's magazine,
or she's staring at the television screen.

She doesn't change into street clothes.
Doesn't wash her hair/paint her nails or toes.
Wears the same wrinkled cotton nightie she slept in.
Has arthritis in her hands and a double chin.

She lost husband; her kids have grown.
This is the only life she's known.
She looks out that window every day.
Folds her hands as if to pray.