a blemish, a speckle
thrown head first with all the others
with a nose just like her mother's
a little bouncing dot

jumping in the same spot
a cluster of talking cells
that in the sunlight swells
into a crimson patch

that peels and makes her scratch
not more than a circled blot
that long ago has sought
a new direction

another face, a new complexion
but found the ruby clot
shiny, bright and hot
so, smiles now at her lot

A honey field of cornflowers
into a rolling grey sky of showers
all the planted seeds
into a land of overgrown weeds

He turns
back the hands on the clock
I'm a child that cannot talk
the dots on my i's and bars on my t's
are all in a state of deep freeze

He turns
a bright smile upside down
into a brown cracking pale frown
drains all the color from my eyes
I'm a ghost who mournfully cries

He turns
yesterday into a twisted tumor
doing so with cackling humor
today is painted in matted black
has me ******* like a gunny sack

he was a dumb-waiter
champagne and caviar
I felt like a film star
pulled on a cable car
pushing buttons on the steel wall
lighting number/light them all
climbing up the floors
screaming hushed by open doors
and then descend
after the body bend
up and down/in and out
I had you in my mouth
the clank and the clunk
moving around as if we’re drunk
the thrill of getting caught
makes us both hot

dripping in pellucid beads
in the same metronomic
speed. Like dew on
a silver blade or sweat sticking

to your nape when there is no
shade. Hanging off
the end in a bulbous blob
like that of a soupy sob. The long

dull thud of the kerplunk,
like hitting a wall when
you are drunk sits heavy
like a stone. Pearls of liquid

drone. Like rain they pitter-
patter. And when they fall
they scatter like mice back in
their hole, black as a lump of coal.

her voice
like thunder clapping
in a billowing cloud.

She raised
the roof.
She was so loud.

She raised
her fist
high in the air
with a laundry list.
She'd swear and hiss.
Blackened both eyes
when she didn’t miss.

She raised
her only child
like a dog,
on a tight lead
in a drunken fog.

She raised
her rent
to the tenants
to pay the stack of bills.
But it didn't make a dent
in them. The only thing
she dented was the family car
after driving home drunk
from the neighborhood bar,
smelling like a cheap cigar.

washed away
from the splash of
sea spray. Tiny crystal
grains of sand still clinging

under my fingernails. Two
boys building castles
with shovels and pails. I drew
a heart around the letters. It was

so cold we both wore
sweaters. The cornflower
sky was smiling down
as salty ocean water pooled

around my ankle. You
were rankled by a thought. I was not
the woman you sought.  A proxy
with honey locks and pearl teeth. We did

not hold hands. We held lies
that pushed their way in like the ocean
tide. And so, we ran out of shore,
on a beach in Bangor.

has no color. It’s duller
than a lecture full of
statistics. And she doesn’t
have the logistics to pull it

off. Her eyes troughs
of stale rainwater infested
with mosquitos. Her nose,
a stuffed burrito, sliding in

the sauce, with two holes
that blow it off into the hot
air. Her egg-shaped head
strings a patch of honey

hair. Her lips are red rubber
bands that land above her
chin. And I, haven’t seen her
smile, since she last seen him.

hot as you snuck in, a swab
with a megawatt grin. There's a fire
in the old man's chair. In his hand
a can a beer. Heads hang on the walls,
a buffalo and brown bear.

My walls
were yellow straw as I lay
swaddled tight, a cherry
babe. Clawed and bled
by a buck. Swatted around
like a hockey puck.

My walls
were sticks, like
my legs. I learned to walk
on two thin pegs. I did not talk.
Just wept and begged. Slept
in till my eyes glazed over
like a donut, burned my cheeks
with his cigarette butts.

My walls
were bricks I'd stick
in my black leather shoes.
You tried to push me. But I'd not
move. I'd not fall or
blow down.

My walls
were tall
and blocked the
sound.

in a yellow daffodil.
Gave a cornflower sky
a black eye.
And I still didn't get

my fill of him.
He was a scouring pad,
a crustacean, a crawdad.
There was little meat

to him.
Lots of mouth
and swashbuckling trim.
And I fell head over

feet into his walls
and lilac sheets. Drowning in
a sea of green, a young girl's wish
to fill an old woman's dream.

like a lipstick kiss with a dab of
water the size of a quarter. Or like
chocolate fudge smudged on my chin,
taking it off with a bar of soap and

a square washcloth.  Or just like
the ring around the tub, a little ammonia
and scrub it clean with elbow
grease. Or throwing it in the washer

machine with the whites. It come out
bright. But no! This pain is a stain
of spilled red wine. It's grown teeth
like a rabid canine. Spreading

like mud on a swine. Rolling in
it. Covering me. It's up to my
knees! Caked on my hands. Bled out
my colors and broke all my plans.

sitting on top of a cloud
of whipped cream
covered in rainbow sprinkles,
swimming in chocolate

sauce and vanilla beam
often gets tossed to the
bottom. It's a rocky road of
marshmallow and nuts. Some blend

in. Some are gobbled up. This world
is pooling in a disposable cup. The little
shiny red maraschino with its matching-
colored stem is only an ornament

like the star on top of
a Christmas tree. But stars
stay on top. The cherry floats
to the bottom, is eaten or forgotten.

to a rainbow
diamond kite
wound around
a handle tight
fly high into
the bright sunshine

Strings tied
on my finger
help me remember
all my plans for
this December

Strings tied
to the center
of two round wooden disks
of a yo-yo
go up and down
in my hand
to and fro
but do not land

Strings tied
to my violin
I play with a bow
held under my chin
sweet music
making me grin

Strings tied
to my goose
as he bakes in the oven
I let loose before I feast
and he's salted
and well-greased

String Tied
to me
that don't suit me
leaving me in a rut
are the strings
I got to cut

Strings tied
to this heart
are the type
I cannot part

before. And shall be said
again. That friends can turn into
lovers. But lovers cannot turn
into friends. I cannot talk to you
without wanting to kiss your

strawberry wine lips. I cannot walk
beside you without wanting my hands
around your lean square hips. I cannot
look up at the stars without seeing

them in your shiny chestnut
eyes. No matter how long it's been
I cannot cut these ties. I cannot
pretend it doesn't pain me

to see you with another
woman. I don't like to be
like this. But this heart in my
breast has turned wooden as
a spoon. Without your warm

caress nothing sticks like the snow
in June. I still lose my breath when I look
at you. Guess I'll go to my death
without saying these two little words “I do.”

break off their golden
bright leaves when it suits
them. And the red rose
drops its petals as it

hangs its head low. And the acorns
fall from the sky as the robin flies
heading south for the winter. And bark
on the branches splinter. And day

grows black as night, as the sun
skips out of sight.  So, why do I
hold on?  The trees are bare
and sun gone. Every flower bloomed

has died. Even the emerald
green grass had dried and turn
to seed.  So, why don't I take
their lead and leave you?

hung out to dry
on a long clothesline. Blowing
in the ***** wind and pinned
to a memory. I was

just a tight rose bud before
the rain turned this to mud. I
was white as a beluga. And he
even smoother. The only

ties were the ribbons around
my chestnut tresses, long before the lies
he dresses up in pearls. The years faded
this baby girl. And I cannot say I miss them

any more than I miss the leaves
that hastily blown off the backyard
maple trees. All shall bloom, as flowers do,
when spring sees this winter through.

like the frozen ground
in winter. And it shows in
the branches, bare and
splintered. Scattered into

shards all over my back
yard. I only weep now in
icicles. They circle
under my eyes like bicycle

wheels, leaving their tracks on
my face. But I don't feel. My skin's
a suit of armor. I wear it like a farmer
wears his overalls, tightly up against

his *****. And this head is so
heavy. It sits on my neck like a Colorado
Chevy. Some days it drives right off,
like rainwater on the trough.

in me today. My get up
and go has run away. My mind's
spinning circles like a spinning
wheel. I cannot jot down

what it is I feel. My fingers lie
flatly on the keys. My eyes looking
out the window at the bare naked
trees. The branches scratch

my windowpane that's coated
in this morning's rain. And the blankness
on my lab top screen is snow white. So, today
is a day I don’t think that I’ll write!

like sap from the maple
tree. You tapped into the core
of me. I poured myself out
to you under skies of cornflower

blue.  Runny as a stuffy nose,
the kind you like to blow. Pushed
out like a sneeze. You always were
a tease. Runny as dripping ice

cream from a sugar cone, sticking
to your hand, in your lap I land. Melting
as the April snow. Runny as shampoo
in the shower, down your face

across your chest, your back
and legs, a foamy dress. As I swirl
my way down the drain I'm less
and less.

like a pack of howling wolves,
with their heads pointing to the
moon. But you lied back flat like
a porcelain plate against a midnight sky

of spate. Your prickly shadow hung
down on me. I called to you my twin,
moaning like the wind wrapped around
the evergreens. You slipped through

like a breeze. And expelled
me in a sneeze. I called you in
a Midwest phone booth. It was like
pulling a tooth loose to get you to

answer. You spread contempt
just like a cancer. I speak to you now,
without paragon or violence, without
face or guidance, in silence.

like autumn trees
blowing off the crimson
golden leaves,
till the limbs hang tumescent
and bare/burnt them
in the smoky air.

I shook him
like the ***** mat outside
my door that won't
lie flat.
Flakes of pebbles and dust
swirling around me
in every gust. 

I shook him
like a bottle of champagne.
Popped his cork
like a bullet to the brain.
Spilled him out
all over my floor.
Relinquished my pain
on every pour.

I shook him
like clothes in the dryer
sizzling hot
like coated veggies
in the fryer
All the cornflower blues
mixing with the green
and purple hues.

with chestnut doe eyes
warm as my apple pie. Just a set
strawberry cheeks
sitting next to a nose high

as meringue peaks. He’s just
a mouth of cherry lips that slip open
to rows of pearl onion teeth with
a rounded peachy chin fitting him

underneath. Two ears sticking out
like turkey wings. But those ears don’t
hear a thing I say. They’re just two
organs on display, below the thinning

wisps of grey. I stared at his face
with my own when we're alone. I stared
on screens and papers, during long silences
and many capers.  I’ve seen the shiny melon

head every night in my dreams
as I lie in bed. He’s just face
that’s stuck like a cork in the bottle
of Cold Duck.

The lawn's grown high over
the thick padded soil that covers
the hole like the skin over a boil.
The space on the grey stone is

carved under his
mother's. The last year
on his father's have not filled
in. But he's alive and thrives

in my suffering. I've seen it
in photos, not in person.
His clothes that he wore
don't fit him. His mountainous

biceps flopped. The taut stomach
dropped. And I wonder if
he lost that wide-tooth grin. Now he
can rest/hands crossed under

his bearded chin/over his breast
without all the stress that placed him
there. Gone his worries. He's in
no hurry. At last, he's home.

He will stay put. He will not roam.
Death, the only thing tied
him down. Death itself wings,
to higher ground.

I thought you were
my tourniquet. I was bleeding
a slow death.  I looked to you
to hold the dam, not lose myself

to what I am. You wrapped
around me firm and tight. Then
took off like a flock of geese
in flight. Like a bomb blew up

I lost my limbs in colored
glass painted crimson. You cut
the cord without a clamp. Pulled
the plug from the table lamp.   I stand

a tree without branches. You blew
all your last chances. But I can bend
in the wind and regrow my limbs
again.

chipping off the painted
color. Twisted as a cruller,
hollow and hard. Life’s duller
after the accident. It’s an unlit

cigarette, a junkyard red corvette
folded like an accordion, scraps of old
pieces of tin. Memories mixed with lime and
gin don't wash out this suffering. Dings

and dents of cellulite. Dimpled skin
that once held tight now hangs low
just like the blues and mistletoe. The soft
December snow clings to the frosted window.

for turning my skin crimson
then vanishing behind a cloud
burning my eyes and limbs in
a hole through the sky that is bowed

drooling in deep purple haze
asleep before the end of the day
bubbling me over in rays
turning my grass into hay

palling around in a shadow
watching the moon disrobe
to it what do I explicitly owe
an inflated star of a fiery globe?

is warm before it licks
my body like a dog, peeling back
my flesh like banana skin. In
the hands of the devil

I'm suffering. I looked
deep into crimson, orange flames
with lover's eyes. Like a snow
globe that held a village inside. Turned

upside down it's snowing crystal
till it shatters with a six-inch
pistol. This world bedazzles behind
the glass. I see my reflection in

golden colored brass. I wanted so
to open the gate. I wanted what I
wanted, letting it all inflate. And so,
it did right in my face!

pukes his leaves
in crimson, orange and gold
but he doesn't leave
he doesn't age or grow old

I can swing from him on a tire
build my house upon his limbs
And of him I'll never tire

He's rooted in my soil
green as spring
like the robin he sings
whose image you cannot soil

are for birds
scraps
for a dog
the milk

turned
to curds
the air
into smog

this house
splintered
the yard
gone to seed

this bond
overwintered
and now
it is freed

drip of the lip
of the faucet. He's sagacious
to not cross it. Dewy drops of
pearls plink forming beads

of sweat in the kitchen
sink. It looks like morning
dew. Smells of ocean
mist.  But won't fill up my

coffee cup of grist.  Straining
to release it plops down next to
last night's dinner grease. And swirling
like a van Gogh. Water and oil

looking like a doily mama
used to sew. If I set this on canvas
I'd hang it on the wall or wrap it all
around me like nana's crocheted shawl.

in me before you were weak
at the knee. They were hairline
to begin before you were up to your
chin. The pieces separated

and broke off. Before I held water
like that of a trough. And now I am gushing
like a dam that collapsed. And even so,
after all this time lapsed!

ball. He'd bounce me up
and down and off the wall. Up to
a cornflower sky, so high I saw
my arms as wings that flap and

fly. But I took a nosedive
as I crashed down, hitting
the ground with such force like
a train wreck off course. He,

the magician juggling
my broken pieces up in starburst
air. This rubber ball had edges now
more like a square. I took my pieces

and left his garage. Boarded a plane
for a Caribbean plage. I'll not bounce
again. No up and down for some class
clown. I'll sing as willow wren.

and he cinder,
ashes to my pyre. A match
that not catch fire. A grey
cold lump of coal

was he, a roll around
crunchy'crimson fallen
leaves. Billowing smoke stung
the air. Bleeding lips kiss

to bare.  Pressing breast
bone. Dead eyes don't
blink. They stare into a cornflower
sky. Body limp as noodles

in my Pad Thai. The burn to
ignite to ashes holed up in a urn
was my oversight!  Next time
I'll learn not to be smite.

the pieces splitting
become parts of their own,
each with a tongue
and a backbone. The jagged

edges are my sharps
that I pluck as the steel strings
of a harp. This music I dance
over the page. All the pieces

pulchritudinously engage! Crystal
snowflakes embound. A brilliant
diamond in the round. Like a mosiac
of colored tiles I wear it as

my father's grey and red
argyles. I fine tune this craft
out of broken splinters
and built me a raft!

from the sky. But I’m no longer
third eye blind. Buzzing
down as hornets from their paper
tree nests. Flocking toward me

like the gulls at sea,
tenebrous grey unrest. This
red pin cushioned porcupine
cannot roll with sharp, long

spines. I jab the sidewalk. Dab
in side talk. Once the sky snowed
luminous butterflies. Pirouetting like
ballerinas. But now I'm handing men

subpoenas! Maybe this cornflower
prison that I’ve been living will pour me
some buttered *** from the flask
of the golden sun.

swallowing her whole
the quicksand
holing her up
shots fired
into a paper cup
she's leaking out the sides
the shell of a woman
with nowhere to hide
she cannot be stitched
with needle and thread
a woman unhitch
he's gone to her head
Swiss cheese
honeycombs
hollow cells for stinging bees
a place she can call home

has canine teeth
sharper than a stiletto
slashing you underneath
and doesn't let go

This Pain
has Teflon claws
that'll rip you apart
in seconds without pause

This Pain
an explosive karate kick
breaking you apart
like a stack of boards
with martial arts

This Pain
has thick dark ink
with quill in hand
you'll slide and sink

as a chocolate bunny
wrapped in golden foil
don't spend your money
you can poke a hole

through him
slide your finger in
and he'd break a part
pieces dry and thin
not a work of art

biting into emptiness
he looked like more
but had much less
not even a core

he won't fill you up
he's like piping hot coffee
in a small disposable paper cup
a sip is all you get
the paper's mush when wet

him like an onion
layer upon layer.  Women weep
the more in deep. They'll see
he's just a player. I'm gonna

fry him, coat him in the oil,
in rings like Saturn. Cut him up
in tiny pieces, in the soup
to boil. I'm gonna sauté' him

with a cherry hot red
pepper. He'll burn their tongues,
pretty and young, till they see he's
just a *****. Smother him in

the cassoulet. Make him sweat
another day. Mix him with sour cream
and chives, calling him a dip. He sits
as a lump on potato chips.

unleashed to roam without
a chain have a home, to shelter them
from the rain. This amour was
growing from a pup into a great

Dane. He pulled tight on my black leather
collar. I was spent like a dollar squashed
inside his billfold. He didn't hold me
for long in his quivering hand. Passed me

up for a cup of dark coffee at the
newsstand. I just wanted a soft
warm lap, a spot to curl up
and take a nap. A smiling

face to greet me at the end of
his day. A ray of golden sunshine
when the sky is black as coal,
and the clouds are grey with snow.

till my stuffing leaked
out. There was less of me
inside of my clothes than
in billowing clouds outside

exposed. Then he pulled
my silk threads with his teeth till they
broke. I looked like a scarecrow,
part of his joke. But he too

unraveled. I thought he was
rock. His shoes and socks
gravel, the size of a pea worn down
by years that he traveled. The sort

that gets wedged in-
between painted crimson
toes. A proxy, is he wearing
emperor clothes.

for me
one for her
hers was glass filled with liquor
she mixed a powder
like Caribbean sand
out of cylinder tub
with the flick of her hand
into a plastic bottle for me
she mixed tequila with lime
it looked the color of ***
with the flick of her hand
and rubbed salt over the rim
we both guzzled the liquid down
the sky outside grew dim

like eggs benedict, a poached
egg wobbly as it sits. Covered in hollandaise
sauce, spooling on his plate. Spilling
over the sides as he ate! Runny as
his nose the snowy winter he ran

a fever and had a cold. There was a big tear
in her, running like crimson sheer pantyhose,
from her crotch down to her toes. Runny
as the Colorado river. Against the pines

and mountains she's a sliver. Runny as
her hazel eyes. As the tear ducts fill
she cries. It drips like dew drops pearling
on her lips. Runny as drains collecting

all the rain beating down from the sky. Like
the juices in mom's baked apple pie. After all,
she was his honey. But amber sweetness
heated under the fire is hot and runny.

in darkness,
the blackness and I.
My shadow a vest,
these fingers my Sai.

Billowing clouds
clapped their thunder.
There I stood
a soleless sunder.

Brains of spaghetti,
blood the sauce.
And bent I roll
in the dregs and the dross.

Cuffed in chains
I march forward in toil.
Hanging as a mosquito net,
a diaphanous voile.

inside mother's womb
when my eyes were closed
to life's perils and doom? Can I
go back to the time before

time when I was just a thought
before one more line appeared on the
EPT. Can I go back before I was
me? Can I go back before the *****

swam up the tube? Can I block off
the entrance or poison the ****? Can I go
back before they met, when she was inside
her mother's womb? Can I go back to the time

her eyes were closed to life's
perils and doom?  Back to the time
before she was a thought! Before the
pregnancy test was even bought!

circling her face
like bicycle wheels. Splintering
ice-chips clinging to her rose
lips. She’s wearing a frozen

smile, cold as the subway tile. Frost is
a glaze on the bathroom mirror. Her breath
billowing clouds. They're grey as
mother's hair under the chestnut wig that

she wears. The tears were once
a ****, colored as a Rubik cube from
globs of shimmering eye shadow. It's stained
glass, like the church windows from

father's funeral mass. In this prism touched
with autism everything done is rote. Everything
wrote is done. The hail’s blowing around like
juggling ***** of a circus clown.

to you. Couldn't swim in cornflower
lakes of blooming mistakes. Drowned
as the ice cracked this body. Built
me a soddy that sank in the banks

of the Pio. You lost your brio
and sleeve. Cleaved to the past
when this woman could skate a diamond
lake. Spin and circle figure

eights. Pirouettes on tattered
crimson tutus. Stood on battered tiptoes
for you. Now the only lines that rhyme
is tequila mixed with lime.  And salt

the shot glass. The bloat turns out
as gas. Passing on cornflower
lakes. The fallen leaves bid to be raked
and bagged. Conversations nipped/not dragged.

in the gut
with a fist full of apples
from the trunks of his eyes,
cutting me in pieces

like ma's hot pies. Burnt as the
flambe', sliding off him, like whipped
cream. All part of a sick girl's
dream. Like Swiss cheese,
you can stick your finger through

the holes in me. The floating
noodle in the soup. Lying flat
and soggy, a clucking chicken
in the coop. Sitting on the

eggs. Thought I'd crack,
or less be scrambled. I shouldn't
have gambled on the man. Should
have seen the cleaver and ran!

you passed. But where
did you go? Did you melt
in the sun like the April
snow? Were you passed

around a cherry wood table
like brown giblet gravy? Were you able
to travel for miles like
the Navy? Were you passed

like a football to all the team
players? Were you wrapped
like a mummy in layers upon
layers? Did you pass as the wind

beneath eagle wings? Do you
laugh at the things that
you worried about? Are you no longer
hurried/like a candle blown out?

of flypaper
hanging on the walls

floating in the air
trapped in bathroom stalls.

And every fly
that whizzes by

is intoxicated with
my sweet perfume.

But little do they know
they're flying to their doom!

on wafer-thin ice.
He slipt and fell,
not once, but twice.
And the sun shone on

that pine forest pond.
The sun wore spandex
and was strawberry blonde.
And as he held her, a stick of butter,

the ice cracked
as his legs did flutter.
His arms flail
like the sail on a schooner.

And no sooner
had I said so,
he froze full frantic.
And sunk just like the great Titanic.