to live. I've the sun in
the mornin, the soft blades
of grass sprinkled wet
with dew. The jay's on the wire

in their blue and white attire
and the chipmunks playing peek-
a-boo. The clouds roll in like candlepins
down on a strike.  But they're just

a tyke that needs to be sent
to his room. No more drama, I can
walk around in my pajamas till
noon. Dance in the light of the full

moon. Not wearing a thing
‘cept rosehip perfume. Just the three of us
flying high in the marmalade sky -
me, myself, and I.

because it doesn’t fall
as the rain
because it doesn’t move
as a weather-vane
because it sits still –
as a cardinal on my windowsill
because I can’t reach it
as I can’t the stars
because it isn’t near to me
it’s very far
because it isn’t naked
as an infant in birth
because it means more to me
than anything of monetary worth
because what it does with its tongue
is sing out sweet words
because it’s never seen my bed
yet stayed with me
over again
a faithful companion

is "a doll"
a pretty face
the flashing smile
round pointed mounds
and curvy hips
my cherry lips
not my wit

All he saw
is my rage
a pink panther
pacing in her cage
the inferno that bit him
like a lion
not that I'm trying
to cover up the pain
and that I'm dying
slowly every day

All he saw
is a dinosaur
I'm extinct in his head
my poetry dead -
he wouldn’t lend to thieves!
not that I'm prolific and gifted
and colorful as the autumn leaves

This Poem

is going to be “the poem” that moves you,
has you flying out of your chair. The one that resounds
in your head like something your mother said. This poem

is going to “be it”, take you away to foreign lands, to sparkling waterfalls and grand canyons, a poem  that orbits
you out of this earth, gives you rebirth. This poem

is going to be “so wonderful” you are going to place in a twenty-four karat gold frame, engrave it with my name
and display in the Louvre.

This poem “says I love you”

let it rest.
Let the chickadee
fly the nest.

When it’s over
don’t resurrect.
As a mirror
just reflect.

When it’s over
don’t protest.
Don’t stick out like
Dolly Parton’s *******.

until I wait for you
until the sun swallows the moon
and every person is gone
and the stars come crashing down
in shards of crystal amphetamines
and all the dead rise from their sleep
as walking zombies

and if I grow very old waiting for you
too old to think, too old to move
and this earth is nothing but sod
the way it originally was
before man ruined it
with his hands
and the animals drown in the sand

I wouldn’t consider it long
if I saw you at the end
if I drew my last breath holding you
if the last of what I saw was your face
if the last of what I was met with
were your lips
then this was worth the wait

***** Water

I wish my hurt were bath water
I’d wash it down the drain
Accumulated from the years
rinse out all the pain

My tears fill the bath and still spill over the sides
hurtful things people done, too many lies
floating inside theses bubbles,
escaping my pain and my troubles.
Never feeling clean/never feeling clean

When you’ve grown up to feel useless you become
No better than ***** water; no better than floating ****
I try to skim it off the top, it sticks like chewing gum
I’ve scrubbed it with a scouring pad, turning the water bright red
Never feeling clean/never feeling clean

One day I’m going to put my face down into the water
Let it get inside my ears, my eyes, my nose my mouth
Drown my sorrow. Drown this body .
Let my spirit fly/ clean at last/clean of the past

I read your blog
On your wall
Pictures you post
I see it all
You don’t know it
You can’t see
I follow you silently
All your updates
Past events
Everything you experience
People and places
Things that you’ve written
Thoughts and ideas
You’ve passionately mentioned
It gives me goosebumps
Chills down my spine
I follow you
All the time
You make this little girl’s
Heart skip beats
When I scroll
My computer screen
It’s as if
I’m living a dream
I know what you ate
Know where you’ve been
With who and what and when
Know when you're sick
and when you're well
I can always tell
Know when you sleep
And get up
Can’t get enough
I follow you
to pass the time
Now you know
That I know
More about you
Then maybe you wish
Some might say
I’m obsessed
That I’m a stalker
I follow you to death
It doesn’t hurt anyone
I Follow you
just for fun!

I could use a couple
of bookends to hold up
all these words. They're seams
are unravelling and they're toppling

over onto each other. The pages
are all yellowed and some I fear are
missing altogether. But it would
sure  make a nice presentation to have

them lined up straight,
even if the binding has loosened. And
there seems no use in acquiring such
support that persons easily abort.

I pour out my heart and soul to you.
But you keep silent.
I pour out my heart and soul to you.
But you keep silent.
Does your river run wild?

Wish I knew what you were thinking of.
Your silence leaves me blind.
Wish I knew what you were thinking of.
Your silence leaves me blind.

I am a fool to be consumed?
You keep quiet.
I am a fool to be consumed?
You keep quiet.

Wish I knew what you were thinking of.
Your silence leaves me blind.
Wish I knew what you were thinking of.
Your silence leaves me blind.

as your petals
fall. Stand up tall

to the sun. Do not
bow your face, You

don’t have a fan
of violet. You’re shy. Let

all fall free. Your blanket
is the sky. No longer

attached. The appendages
are not your patch. Bare is

beautiful. It has a shiny
head. Some say bare is dead. But

it is not. The moon is bare. It
glows in dark.

Freedom itself is a binary, being tied
to your own convictions. You're the slave as well as
the master.  The person you face in the mirror
every morning tied to her truth, blocking out

all else, as the shade from a cloud when it covers you,
dark and low. A lonely truth that keeps you under
siege for your beliefs. You bare all, as the apple tree,
the fruit, the stem and the leaves. You’re

meant to be cut open. You’re not a waxy display
in a wooden bowl set in the middle of the table
for show. You’re meant to be plucked, bitten
and ****** to the core. You’re meant to be
enjoyed. This is what you live for.

that can be swept up or carried
away by the wind. And I’m more than
the body I’m in. I’m spirit of earth and
fire. I won’t stay where I am. I’m

going higher. I haven’t reached the place
where instead of the sun on my face I am
the light. And that light burns inside. And
radiates from my eyes. My eyes are candles

that glow from everything beautiful. A
kaleidoscope of fractured pieces comes together
and releases a translucent window that dances
in the shadows. I never will be hollowed as long

as I am followed. That’s where you’ll find me –
I’ll come up as poison ivy and ooze out of
your pores. That’s how I want to be remembered,
before the first frost of November.

takes off her heart and
displays it as if it were a float
in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day
Parade. The world’s her stage. She’s

their pawn. Only allowed to move
one square along she only goes as far
as her backyard. The only thing she
has on is a lipstick smile of rouge. Most

of those high-hat conservative liberals see
her as nothing more than crude. But if you
don’t have the brains and aren’t a scholar
you need something to sustain you because

the loneliness and pain are
wearing a rut in the center of your
core. And those wanton men of Dutch accent
are begging you for more.

than life. Ya, you
heard me right. I want the world
in my pocket. I want to rock it
in blue-studded stilettos. I don’t want

to wait a minute more. I want the world
on a string and pull its cord. May sound
crazy to you. I know it’s absurd. But hell,
might as well. You only die once.

with wonder
even as you slumber still as night.
For I would take you under
if your colors bled to palest white.
If you were to burn me
with the scalding of your tongue
I would still taste the honey
despite that I've been stung.
If you rained shards of icy hail
I would not run for cover
nor be windswept by the gale.
For me there is other.
It puts me in a bind.
Because as you leave
part of me is left behind.

He Made Me Promise

not to tell. He said no one would believe me. He said I
would only disgrace myself. He said that I would lose
him forever. I carry the secret from the bedroom, to
the shower. I try to scour the stain off my body, with

boiling hot water and then to the kitchen table, where it
sits in my belly like rocks from a landslide. It fills my stomach up with mucus so I can’t digest. I carry it all day at school, in my classes and among my friends. I carry it when talking to my

guidance counselor. She told me that it was ok to talk
about it. But I was afraid, afraid of what would happen,
afraid of what they’d do. What would they think about me
if I let my secret loose? I carried the shame as heavy

as the secret itself. I carried it home that evening
when I went into my bedroom and swallowed the bottle
of pills on my nightstand. When I awoke in the hospital
they looked as if they already knew. They told me

I was safe. They told me I would stay for a while, in a place
with bars on the windows that look like a cage. At least I'll
be safe away from him. Maybe someday I’ll tell the world the secret I’ve been keeping, or maybe I'll wear the stain to my grave.

the world is your stage
and you fill every line
on the page
with words well-spoken
you soothe
excite
and heal
you’re the star
in cobalt and teal

Every day you create
something new
with appeal
to reveal
a different side
to the person
that you always kept
hidden away

the world is your stage

He’s all she needs
To keep her safe
To give hope,
To this poor waif
She can’t face
her deepest fears
all alone.

He’s a dream
She won’t wake
He’s a circle
That won’t break
Never was there a beginning
Never will there be an end

Some are handsome
Some are tall
Some are young.
He’s not that at all.
Some are strong.
And some are slim.
But it’s nothing she uses
to measure him.

He’s a dream
She won’t wake
He’s a circle
That won’t break
Never was there a beginning
Never will there be an end

She’s a broken
egg. Her yolk is
wasted. Her whites
are beaten. She’s treated
as fluff.  If she stayed together. If
she had not separated. She’s a

cotton ball,
used and thrown
away. She takes on whatever
she encounters. It clings to her fibers,
becoming a part
of her. She absorbs it,
loses herself in it. If she wasn’t
used. If she didn’t take on
spilled perfume.

your lips
in soft satin
kisses till the tongues entwined
like roses on the vine

I covered
your lies
in cherry wine
till they left a port stain
on the bed frame

I covered
your screams
in chocolate-chip ice-cream
till the gallon emptied

I covered
your past
in a fossil
how's it possible that I
dug it up
under that much dust?

jumping

track skips
the notes. A broken song
cut-off by the arm. I see
the scratches left behind of

the years turning
on the same turntable. I put it on
over and over, as my pajamas. Sang it in
my sleep. Played it as the night

grew black/as I lost count
of sheep. They all wear
down eventually. Lose their sharpness
in the darkness, and replaced

with a substance, running
through my teeth. Flip-flopping
in my esophagus like my sandals
on the beach.

If I don’t Tell You

You won’t know
I could keep it to myself
Or just let it go
I could tell somebody else
have them promise not to say
I could write it in my diary
Lock it up/throw the key away
I could feign indifference
I could act real cool
If I could keep my composure
But I don’t think I could fool
Anyone
By this silly game
I would slip instantly
At the mention of your name
Why try to hide it?
Why be ashamed?
When it comes to loving you
So what if I’m blamed!

It took

a man
a woman,
two people
to create you.
But it only takes
one
to break you.
I know
how it feels
to be broken,
to be
the discarded experiment,
to be left.
It feels your half
complete.
You have a head
but haven’t feet.

in the wind. My arms
helicopter blades that
cut through the air as
a pinball in a penny arcade.

I Stand
in the snow. My legs
polo sticks whacking the ice
as I go. Making it fly through
the trees. I’m a dog shaking off
her fleas.

I stand
in the bog. My feet
springs, jumping as a frog
over the muck. This so I’ll not
get stuck!

he made me
his little seed
and as such
it was then I became
unto his name
giving rise
I melted
overlapped
I pelted moonbeams
and gamma rays
fragments of
ice crystals
under his
fingernails
he tried to
shake off
as a dog does
when he’s
water-logged
and the beads
spread
until they’re
evaporated
he destroyed me
his little seed
before I grew
into a spore
and bore
my own

but I think I’ll die
if I can’t have you
by my side
I’ve got no soul
every day I cry
and at night
I can’t sleep
I wet
all the sheets
with my tears
as I stare
into the black
thinking
of ways
of getting you
back

There’re so many covers in life,
from make-up, to blankets and clothes.
No one wants to expose what’s underneath it all.
Smiles won’t cover a person’s unhappiness.
Look deep into their eyes; the hurt is hard to disguise.
Lies cover up guilt and uneasiness.
A scar covers a wound, but not the underline pain.
The clouds cover the sun, but don’t stop the rain.
Words cover up feelings with useless thoughts and jargon.
Money covers up many things in glitter and gold.
People try, but they’ll never cover up getting old.
Noise covers up loneliness by exposure to excess.
Food covers up ***, by leaving the body a mess.
*** covers up intimacy in many.
People searching for intimacy through *** alone,
don’t find any.
Success covers time but doesn’t always bring joy.
Fear covers up everything; fear is a decoy.
Drugs cover up life, with a shot, a puff, or a sniff.
In the end we’ll be covered in a mound of dirt.
I hope you gave it your best because
what was underneath it all will be finally laid to rest.

on. She’ll blind you
with the light. But when the sky
is tar from the moon spilling Dr Pepper
she’s a flicker, no bigger than a burning

wick from a solitary candlestick. She’s
a greasy pig that isn’t fit for bacon. A soda
can that has the top popped off
after it’s shaken. Her extremes have you

beside yourself., upside-down and
inside-out. But you'll beg for her as a
street drunk asking for money to buy
fifty-proof nips. She'll flip the switch on you

then stick as Elmer's glue, like lint
on your sweater. With all that fuzz you can
make a glove to wear in winter. Then the warm
turns to ice as she splinters. And pokes you

in your eyeball with the shards. She's like
a deck of playing cards. Every shuffle turns up
an ace or a dud.

the glossy paint chips
the clay bowl cracks
the stain of red satin lips
white turns blue and black
a leaky faucet drips
no turning back

Sooner or later
the veneer fades
gold turns to rust
the little robin strayed
knocked down by a gust
this diamond is a *****

Sonner or later
a smiling sun disappears
smoky clouds roll in
she squandered youthful years
in things that might have been

I Want to be Your Treat, Pete.
Not just any éclair or sweet.
Something much more than you ever had before.

Ice-cream goes down pretty smooth.
But you need a spoon.
Honey require bees that sting.
I would never do such a thing!
Molasses passes too slowly.
Chocolate melts at high temperatures.
Cake you need to bake.
And you need a fork and plate.
You’re too busy for something complicated.
A soufflé falls flat.
You need something more that.
Pudding can be lumpy.
All Jello is, is colored water.
Why bother?

I want to be your treat, Pete.
I hold my shape easily.
I’m smooth.
And you won’t need a spoon.
I don’t melt.
And I’ll never fall flat.
I’m sweet.
I won’t give you cavities.
I don’t require baking or refrigerating.
All I want is love making.
I think that’s something you can do.
What do you say? Me and you?

The Wrong Animals

are put inside metal bars. Those desperate,
hungry ones that pace a two by four space are glum
and only looking for love. So why are they treated

as prisoners? What did they ever do wrong? There are
many outside that are horrible and unkind, killing ones
that don’t have homes, or ones to love, to call their own,

even using some for sport. Not caring how much
they get hurt. It’s brutality at its worst. Only the ones
that have two legs not four, have special privileges

the others don’t. They can speak. But they don’t know
love, just prejudice and arrogance. They live in
disdain. They’re hypocrites with last names, and titles before

their first. The gentle souls who wag their tails
love unconditionally , and never ask for anything in return
are treated with the more disrespect, live in horror and

neglect by their humans counterparts, who could stand
to learn a little humility. If it was up to me I’d set the animals
free. Throw the two legged kind in. Toss the key in
the waste basket and grin. That’s the way it should be.

of rock. His arms are a
chisel. As he swivels
he chips off a piece. But not
square and neat. The jagged edge

scratches his head. The more he
sheds of the stone the smaller
it stands, until the rock fits
in his hands. It could have been

Washington or Lincoln. He's thinking
in color that went from red to yell
her. He just skips it now. But it doesn’t
bounce. Not part of the water, it sinks

down to the bottom. Living in a black
cave, a watery stave, life dances around
it. But home is the desert.

I used to cry soft gentle rain that toddled pitter-patter on the window pane. No one answered. No one came.

I used to cry barrages of torrents in my white canopy bed. Someone screamed obscenities from the other room “Shut the F**K Up” Someone whacked me on the head.

I used to cry with my face burrowed in my pillow, as a prairie dog. No one answered. No one heard. My tears corroded every word.

I don’t cry anymore

don’t care much
what I get done
not concerned
about what I wear
I just might
go naked
for all I care

Not concerned where
I’m going
what I’m doing
just floating
free falling
drifting

don’t care what I eat
chips and cake
is great for me
not answering the phone
not making the bed
or my mind

just taking my time
jotting a line
playing it cool
and solo today
no endeavors –
whatever

Hurt

perpetuates hurt
You pull back
and hurt me
from your lack
I need to hurt you back,
so, I hurt you more
Now you pull back
further than you had before
There’s a wall growing
between your hurt side and mine
It’s dividing us in two
It got thicker as it grew

out of guilt. She doesn’t want to be
your moral compass of fairness.

Don’t do it
out of pity. She doesn’t want you
to feel sorry for her.

Don’t do it
out of obligation. You don’t owe her
anything.

Don’t do it
out of one-upmanship. Aren’t you
better than this?

Do it
because you care for her. This –
and only this is the reason she’ll
accept it.

every material thing
I want, what else is left
for me to desire? How can more
of the same inspire?

If I have
all my dreams come true
what shall I dream? When I go
to sleep I’ll be counting sheep.

If I have
the sunshine all day –
never a cloud to get in
my way all that warmth
would burn me. The ground would
crack. Vegetation would shrivel
and dry. Every living thing here
would die.

If I have
reached the top
where else is left for me
to go? I’d jump off
because I can’t stay put. Boredom
ensues when there is no news.

If I have
Heaven
here on earth
when I depart they’ll be
no rebirth. If I have found
my paradise inside this portal –
what’s the use of being immortal?

can I pen a poem
if I don’t know him? I see
the man’s brows rise
and fall.
So, a note I do call.

You ask
can I sing a song
if it rains on my lawn? I hear
the clouds clap their applause –
So, I sing without pause.

You ask
can I paint a picture
if I’ve no liquor? And make
the picture sunny
as the world is grey and runny?
So, I splatter it in dots
and watch it defrost.

Even the babe
has to detach. It's part of
the birthing aftermath. As leaves
on the trees in the fall

blow off their colors, red,
gold, and all. So, every branch stands
naked against the crisp autumn
air. And the ground is a blanket

of leaves flying in pairs. Two threads
of yarn woven together, a weave,
unraveling and separating. The
green is now fading into yellow

and blue. Not part of the same
hue. But just as colorful a strand -
not stranded together.

my hair
as my politics
on the left
out in left field
head high
as a high ball
in a tall glass

I part
my lips
into a smile
and all the while
carrying the pain
I strain to part with
old ways

I part
my memories
parcel them in boxes
store them in the attic
where the Christmas tree
and socks is

I part
with friends
I’ve grown apart from
some partings are sweet
some glum

I part
ways
with people
that don’t serve me
they don’t deserve me

in this life. I must put back
more life in my years. Living
in strife. My rage is sheer as my silk

stockings. Shuffling through the day
like an actor in a play. The only thing
dropping by are the pigeons firing

bombs. Banging my head like a tom-tom,
waiting for something to hatch. But the only thing
I catch is a cold. I roll through

this afternoon as a ball of green and blue
yarn the cat's unraveled. A tangled string
that hasn't traveled past her backyard.
A joker in a deck of cards.

I'll still bite them hard.
They can put up fences.
And I'll still cross their yard.
They can knock me

down.
But I'll stand up.
They can refuse to serve me.
I'll still fill my cup.

They can throw stones.
I'll still swim.
They can shut the lights off.
So, I'll read in the dim.

They can lock doors.
I can open with a bobby pin.
They can cheat at every turn.
But just the same, I'll still win.

They can build mountains.
And I can climb.
They can rip out my pages.
But I'll still rhyme.

follow as a sheep? I should
have been a lion. Afraid to make
a peep. Should have built up
a Zion.

Why did I
weep over men that strung
me as beads on a string? I should
have been a diamond, a solitary stone -
a bright azure island.

Why did I
wilt in the garden? They tilt
the sun from the place I was
lying. Cloaked in shade I was
dying. I should have been flying
in the wind. Should have grown me
a pair of wings.

Why did I
wait till now? Why did
I stand in my ivory tower looking out
at a world I can devour. Creamed
as the chowder I cannot flower.

Take These Things

and give them legs
so, they can run off to places

you can never go. Dress them fondly
with care. Set them out there

to be explored in themselves and in
the minds of others.  Let them

get lost. It’s a small cost
for laying them down. The airfare is

free and rotates daily. It’s cold,
but you’ll love the exposure.

the word
like the wings of a bird
and it'll take flight
spreading it like
a quilt on the bed
on a cold grey night

I'm spreading
the seed
all over this land
performing the deed
with woman hands

I'm spreading
this memoir
near and by far
making it stick
like strawberry jam
to the sides of the jar

I'm spreading
my pelvis
birthing this babe
pushing it out
with gusto and sage

Speak

as if the world was going to
sleep. And the grass was growing
melatonin. Everyone’s interest was
stolen by the sandman in the sky.

Speak
as if this were the very last words
they’ll hear. Make it loud and clear. Cut
out the jargon and hyperbole. Sing it with
luster and glee.

Speak
as if the sky were falling. And chicken
little was calling everyone to run
for cover. Allow your words to be their
umbrella. When the sky falls to pieces
as a puzzle you’ll be their blood and muscle.

and you look through me
as if I’m a ghost, with no skin
or bones, as you drone on, bored
like a skipped needle on a record.

I bare my soul
and your clock says that
it’s time to take a walk/feed the cat.

I bare my soul
on my knees, clutching
my chest. I can’t breathe. I weep
a puddle on your floor. And drown
in it once more.

I bare my soul
as a hurricane. You shake
my hand, leading me out
into the wind and rain. My hair
wraps around my face. Fills in
the space between eyes, nose
and teeth. So, I look like a russet sheath.

let it pour until it seeps into
my pores. Let me run naked
in the stream, having wild girl dreams.

If it snows
let it cover me from head
to toe in a blanket of white. Let the children
stick a carrot in me, laugh and sing
to their delight!

If it blows
the wind, let it carry me
up high. Pick me off the ground
into a purple sky. So, the men
below can ask “is it a bird; is it a plane”

If it hails
let it hit me like a pellet
gun. I won’t run! I’ll jump
between the blasts. Stare it in the face,
and shake my ***!

the mornings rose no sun
blackness are the days
the moon pulling double duty
everything lies in shade
If
the robin hadn’t wings
he sings but not flies
and walks on tippy toes
rasping songs down low
If
the whales swallow the oceans
the ocean now a desert
of dry shells and bone
If
you go
I’ll not have the sun
covered in shade
I’ll hang down low
and roam a desert grave