I love unzipping myself
and letting others peek into what’s
inside of me. There’s a whole junkyard
of interesting things that this brings.

It’s fascinating what can
be created. The juxtaposition alone
would make any heart groan.
The beast inside the beauty.

is a lonely man
that let many opportunities
pass him
insecure
a gauche man
unrefined
that resigned himself
for less
because it was safe
now even today
the only thing changed
is
he’s older
more plump
with less hair
but no wiser
in that
he still is
what he wrote himself
to be
in the lyrics
he construed
did not change
history

to cover the flavor
wanting the real essence of what this is
it may be sharp and biting to the tongue
tough and prickly -
hard to swallow
we're not eating cat or dog!
yes, a touch of niceness
not too much
we don’t want to blend it in
let it sit on the top

the veneer. Slipping
pieces are chipping and
falling to the floor. I’ll sweep them up,
placing them in a paper cup
drinking a toast to “no more.”

I see-through
the bravado I said
once a hero. The swashbuckling
buccaneer turned to road-killed deer!

I see-through
all the holes. I’ve crawled
between the cracks I once called
love. I can’t have myself back –
the self-made glue of all I misconstrued.

I see-through
the glossy bubble. I'd trouble
for many years. But as it popped
so went my tears and all the heaviness
of airs.

like a rose
smelling sweet with candy apple
crimson cheeks. Till your silky petals fell.
And your head drooped. I could tell you
weren’t yourself. And all you left me
was a stalk jagged as a mountain rock.

You came on
like a watermelon
ripe and dripping down my chin,
like strawberry and vanilla gin.
No tellin’ you were overloaded
with hard black seeds. And even as
I spit ‘em out they grew sprouts.

You came on
like a song
on the radio playing soft
and slow. And I danced to
the music, making my head spin
like a record on a turntable.
Filling me with reverie like the honey
bee/till I was stung by the lash
of your tongue.

You came on
like a locomotive
puffing and pulling me along
on your tracks till you derailed.
And I crashed.

stuck at the bottom. Why don’t they see
she’s a flower that’s blossomed.  Her integrity
is gauged by the hungry mouth of words

on the page. She doesn’t languish. She
jumps as the bones in her tuna-fish sandwich. And swells
as the cull of the slaughtered. Never forgotten –

her lines are more than silk cotton. They’re dancing
machetes that strip-tease the rind off
the wheel of the cheese faster than a caterpillar's

sneeze. And blows it to pieces, serving it
back as a dish of whipped cream.

turning from bright green
to red hot fire burns. They detach
as a chick hatched breaking
from the shell. Swirling

in the swell. Then they fly off
in a scoff, running rivers and jumping
rocks. Leaving me with sentimental twigs
that I hasten in every swig.

smells like rotten garbage
and gnaws at you as a rat-infested sewer
has your head dizzy as a brain tumor
enlarging until its pushing out through
when your legs are spread
for some recognition
and your head is nodding in submission
because your lines aren’t getting the attention
so you rope them in with suggestion
and at your age –
that’s **** hard!
but they eat you up
**** your scars
and if that’s what it takes
you’ll do it
you’ll do anything

The Universe **** on Me

today. It didn’t ask if I was ready
for it. It must not have known what I was
going through. It just laid a massive dump
on my head and slithered away, smiling duplicitously

as a snake. It didn’t pick me because I was pretty
down. It wouldn’t have cared. It just picked me randomly,
out of thin air. Why couldn’t it have picked the *****
across the street, the man that  whacks off in front of

little boys,  rapists and thieves? It treated us all equal. It
didn’t matter our history or future, or what we
brought to this world or not. OK, I said, and got
a shovel. I cleared a path off, enough for me to walk
away. Enough **** for one day!

I’m the fingerprint
on your hand

Do your best
to rub me off
but you can’t

I’m under
your skin

every cell
every molecule
the spool

the sturgeon
not to swim.
You wouldn’t him –
Your chances be slim

You wouldn’t ask
the sun
not to shine.
For if it would rain
I’m sure you would whine.

You wouldn’t ask
the Robin
not to sing.
Who would dare –
such a thing!

You wouldn’t ask
the eagle
not to fly.
Well if you wouldn’t him
Why would you I?

a heart
rip to shreds
split it apart
leaving it hanging
outside of its breast
with a gaping hole
in the middle of the chest
in the cold night air
till frost covers it
and the pieces look like
bacon bits
you spread on a salad
even broken -
it's still valid

the sun is yellow. You
selling it to me, young
fellow? I see the sun go down. I see
it hides behind the clouds.

You don’t have to tell me
the trees are tall. You’re too in
the forest to see them all. You’re so
low you're a rolling stone.

You don’t have to tell me
the earth is flat as the red bird
mat outside the door. And if I go walking
I’ll fall off the horizon. I've a dream
I’m not compromising.

hand you my heart
for you to break it

Why do I
believe in all your lies
when you fake it

Why do I
cry out my eyes
I can’t take it

Why do I
even try
I can’t shake it

When will I realize
we’re not going to
make it

Put it out there
Like hard, dark ***
Put it out there
Some will come

Put it out there
Like chicken basted
Put it out there
They will taste it

Put it out there
For all to see
Put it out there
Some will flee

Put it out there
Anyway
Put it out there
Some will stay

its’ carried
within you
it’s the mole
on your face
the sty
in your eye
the snarls
in your hair
the canker
in your mouth
the callous
on your hands
the knots
in your stomach
the cyst
on your back
the blister
on your foot
and the bunion
Look What
he’s done

they twist
into a knot
and squeeze out
every
last drop
then complain
after
they’ve drained
everything

they’d take
my blood
if I gave them
a syringe
cut a hole
they would –
impinge
and lay me
out
have a laugh
after
they hacked
me
in /half

Don’t Be Vapid

as the curtain drapes strung on the rod
above the window. They always move off to the side,
enough to let in the sunshine. Otherwise
they obstruct the view. There’s magic in this house

worth looking into. It’s in the kitchen
were last night’s grilled steak and onions permeating
the walls all the way into the hall
made your tongue saturate with flavor. You caught it

once again when it backed up in a hiccup. It’s in
your mother’s singing. And when she danced
on the table you couldn’t believe it supported her. She never
covers up herself or the furniture, unlike the drapes

that droop from their insipid position over the
living room window. They’re faded now to yellow,
looking more jaundice by the day. We could replace them,
bring in flowered ones. But that would be too feminine.

in the morning
in a smile
across the table
while he looks at me.
It makes me stable
in a topsy-turvy world,
I’m his girl.

Sugar is sweet
in the afternoon.
I don’t have to have
a pale moon for romance.
He and I can slow-dance
in the sun -
Not wait
till day is done.

Sugar is sweet
in evening.
A kiss is sweeter
than a cake.
A sloppy kiss
doesn’t leave crumbs!
He can sweep me up,
not the floor.
Bring me to the boudoir.

I want to lasso the sun out of the sky
And claim it as mine. Only let it shine in
my own backyard. The rest of the world can
live in shade. They’ll never know why it
strayed. Why shouldn’t it be only for me?

I want to cage the wood thrush so much.
Only have him sing his beautiful long song for
my ears alone, like a music box that comes with
a lock. Others can enjoy the kee-eeeee-arr of the
hawk. Why shouldn’t it be only for me?

I want to pick all the flowers; put them in
my room. Light up the air with their sweet
perfume, until their colorful heads droop, like
noodles in a chicken soup. Because they

haven’t the sun or the beautiful sound
of the wood thrush’s song, or the swing of the
breeze, or the pitter-patter of the rain as a tease. Maybe
here is where they don’t belong, arranged en masse
in a tall translucent glass.

A touch can go beyond the walls of skin.
I'm not lying.
I feel ya inside of me, my heart, my head, my body
I ain't trying
to fool you with some clever line, phrase or word.
I'm just crying
my eyes out to be heard.

salted with crimson tears
that rolled so low
their feet stuck to my hair

turning black
from ear to ear
I’ll not have back
this lost year

Now I caw
from dusk till dawn
this has gnawed
the man I spawned

thinner than a wafer
I’ve not felt safer
since the incident
I'm bent as a crowbar
and just as hard

Why does everyone want
to avoid conflict? Harmony can
not be achieved by always
agreeing. Air out the differences.

You open a window
to get fresh air in your home.
Open the window to your
relationship as well; air it out.

There will be hurt.
Talk through it. Don’t hold
back. You won't get much air
from a window opened a crack.

I’d give you flowering cherry
blossoms, dancing diamond lakes
and baby robins. I’d give you cornflower
skies and warm apple pie.

If I could give you a day
I’d give you honey meadows and
singing larks, stardust kisses
in the dark. I’d give you bubbling streams
and waterfalls. But that’s not all….

If I could give you a day
I'd make it a novel one, as a baby first screams
as she thrusts out her lungs, pushing out
into this world fast as a shotgun.

If I could give you a day
I’d give you today wrapped up
in silk and bows. That's all I have. I put
yesterday out with the trash. I took all I
could of it/recycled the memories that served
me/ let go of the ones that burned me.

till I looked behind me
that the sun is blinding
a fly lit up my path
the streams all had a laugh

I didn’t know
till I stopped
the sunflower’s head
is cropped
the sky is grey as Bristol
his words are liquid crystal

I didn't know
till I listened
the ground is christened
with every step he takes
made this chest concave

I didn’t know
till I turned the corner
I’m a foreigner

up pennies off the ground
Pick up someone
whose been down.

Don’t pick
your nose in public
It’s rude.
Same with
your cuticles.
Pick a smile to wear today.
It will dress up a lonely face.

Don’t pick
a fight with someone
who challenges you.
Pick your words carefully
And use them sparingly

Don’t pick
the lint off your clothes
Pick a time to give your time.
You’ll see the glint
in someone’s eyes.

as the crumbled leaves
after they loosen from
the autumn trees. They melt
into the earth. In the spring
bud's bloom. And June brides’ waltz
down the aisles.

When it's over let it lie
as a snowflake on your face. It'll dissolve.
And you won't feel the cold cling. The robin
sings again my friend, at winter's end.

When it's over let it lie
as the April showers
making a puddle for the blue jay
to splash in. As the golden sun winks at you
she'll sip the puddle through a paper
straw. And your feet won't get wet as you
step lively down the street. You'll cross
the rainbow bridge that rose from the brokenness
you burned. But don't look back as you turn.

When it's over let it lie
as the cockles in July on a sandy
beach. Don't reach out
to yesterday. Don't get swept up
in the wind of an old fling.

mating. The way his tongue wrapped
around mine put me in a trance
that blind me to his snake-like moves. He
shot venom from the moment that he

entered. Our lips sealed like a vacuum. His
hands took other action, like a chopper coming in
for the landing on my pad. I’ve never known
a kiss like this. Other men flick their tongue like

a Bick as if they were writing a reminder of
what to pick up their wife when they went
shopping at the market. Even as a writer I never
appreciated this. I still long for the coil-snake kiss
that only he could give.

Karma is a Spider

A Spider that spins cotton candy gets stuck in
her own sticky web. The squirrel that hoarded all the nuts
in autumn soon forgets where he buried them when the ground
is covered by winter’s white blanket. A sheep that turns his back

on his own flock gets lost in the woods and runs into
a wolf that’s up to mischief. They never did find the wandering sheep who was eaten up by his own freedom. But they saw
a smiling wolf, looking content as usual the next

morning. Karma is a spider caught in her own web. It’s a
hoarding squirrel that soon forgets when the ground looks different. It’s an unscrupulous sheep that meets his end by something more undaunted and cunning than him.

into a million pieces
sides are splintered
jagged reflections
sharp and brittle
the coldest winter
whittles down the sun
walking on broken glass
the man's hands around the bat
see the wreckage of a woman
crashed
weeping ice stalagmites
trapped
reading her the last rites
over spilled perfume
sweeping the pieces up
with an electrostatic broom
you missed a crystal chip
the cherry candy lips
drips droplets of her blood
in the room you made love

it was ignorance, complacency
thinking we had forever
but forever died –
forever
but this survived
and this is what I’m making my art
this is what is I’ve got
so, I’m turning it out
I’m reliving it –
line
by line
stronger through time
stronger through the truth that you
were so afraid of me knowing
I found out through
your best friend
and my love –
hasn’t changed since then
clearly speaking from my heart
I would do it over again
knowing its tragic end

Nothing Will Stop Me

There isn’t a thing you can do
to keep me from loving you.
There’s nothing you can say
that will keep me from feeling this way.

You can ignore the phone
Leave me here all alone
Block me on the internet
That hasn’t stopped me yet

There isn’t a thing you can do
to keep me from loving you.
There’s nothing you can say
that will keep me from feeling this way.

You can ignore the door
Tell me you don’t want me anymore
Never answer the mail
Baby, you’ll only fail

There isn’t a thing you can do
to keep me from loving you.
There’s nothing you can say
that will keep me from feeling this way.

Tell your friends that we’re done
Live your life on the run
You can go anywhere
But I’ll find you there

There isn’t a thing you can do
to keep me from loving you.
There’s nothing you can say
that will keep me from feeling this way.

heavy and slow
hard as rigor mortis
lagging and old
carrying it all on my back
the weight of the world
in a gunnysack

solitary as the cold wind
on the prairie
life gushes by me
friends are poison ivy

I tuck myself inside myself
and sit as a stone
as the moon, all alone
reclusive, shy, and diurnal
writing in my journal

dark and grumpy
clawed and bumpy
drinking from a puddle
head in a muddle over my past
snapping at men
as a telephoto lens

if I flew as an eagle
or swam as the dolphin
or ran as the horses
I’d be less obnoxious

the size of the kitchen sink. Now I trudge
with every step instead of smoothly slink. Bending
from the weight pushing down on me I can’t see
straight. I see perpendicularly. It makes my gait

wobbly. So exhausted I can't sleep.  Every turn
I take the boulder barrels as a jeep, leaving tracks
upon my sheets. Run over by black lies and
used to bes I weep blood-soaked drops hard as

lollipops that break my teeth. The sun's a nun
that has to preach.  But this boulder only smolders
making me vexatious to reach. The landslide that is I
has blocked every street. This mountain has crumbled

at my feet. Today the streetcleaners sweep up
the rubble. How did this chip grow into a boulder? Or is
that I'm older I sunk in the debris?

My lust for life
can never dry.
It’s called desire.
As the Nile,
it flows for miles.

The song I sing
cannot be silenced.
It’s called desire.
As ocean waves,
it misbehaves.

This burning fire
can never be extinguished.
It’s called desire.
As the sun rises
it reprises.

in my shoe. I can’t shake
loose. I’ll have to stop. Take
the shoe off. Shake it to release
this flint that’s a tease. It’s as

fleas on a dog. Or a sneeze and
a cough I can’t let up. It’s the
tickle that’s fickle! In a blow
or a hack I’d have it off

my back. But I reach for
my stash than drop
the rock. It began as a pebble –
that turned me a rebel. The callouses

I bear from leaving it!

blowing in the wind
moving in every direction
turning like the water mill
not a rock standing still

I would shine in the sun
like a ****'s red feathers spun
all that moves for me is time
growing old with every chime

looking to rise like the yeast
not lying in the pan
like the grease
let me live –
or I shall cease

If you don’t plant them
they won’t grow. If you don’t
water them day to day they’ll
never break ground. If you

don’t shine your loving light
on them they’ll descent into
the shadows. You won’t see
them taking root. Just feed them

truth. I have a garden of
dreams. I planted late. So, I
must be patient as they slowly
develop. Give them plenty of

room and not get jealous minding
someone else’s garden. Let me attend
to my own weeds. And watch as
happiness is spread as fertilizer on my bed.

in rows like cornfields.
Every direction I go
there's more to follow.
I cannot swallow
them whole.

His lies lie
uneven like my lawn
from dusk till dawn.
I’m not drawn to them.

His lies lie
down like a gambler’s
money on the table.
I'm not able to pick up.

His lies lie
on his head
like a cap -
flat.
He spat them out
of his mouth
like a downspout
running into the gutter.
I don't listen to him mutter.

What does a boy do at four?
Play and dream –
But not one fighting for his life
Good Friday/April/2000/Easter weekend
Early morning
Lying stiff as the bed boards that support him
Eyes rolled back in his head –
You only see the whites
The sheets pulled down at his side
Something attacked him that night
Something came onto him with a terrible fright
The ambulance takes him away
Sirens blaring/tied to a stretcher
Tubes, catheters/no answers
Do a spinal/still unconscious
In a coma
Waiting in doctors’ offices filled with diplomas

It’s like being hit by lightening
That’s the chances of his recovering
Meningitis/Encephalitis
They pull the drapes in the ICU
You recite it
He’ll need to learn to walk again,
to talk, to feed himself
And then –
His cognitive functioning will be extremely limited
And the seizures/and spasms
Can’t believe that this has happened

But this was just the beginning -
Of a lengthy two year stay at Franciscans
Every day at the hospital
While his younger brother stayed with your schizophrenic father
Who just came out of McLean himself
Whose own brain was damaged from mental health
You’ve seen it growing up
And now in your child
Something so horrible it can’t be defined
Something that comes in the night and takes your mind
What does a boy do at four?
Learn to play and dream once more -

that I was responsible
for his sleeping with me
that I would destroy
all his patient’s lives
he left me
with so much guilt
I’ve the nightmares/the shrills
the unanswered silences
for the dead it’s over –
but the living still
must go on if they will
but some don’t
some take it to bed
but never lay it to rest

the instant I see you
on the street. I lower my face
so, our eyes don’t meet. I act as if
we are strangers, and my insides flutter
like butterflies flitting from flower
to flower. You have that power over me.

I die
in the blackness of night
shadows on the wall
my tormented dreams, I
see as real. But it
isn’t as it seems.

I die
as I stare at the picture
of you, that electric smile
and eyes sea blue. The olive skin
and ebony hair, the swing
of arms flying in the air.

I die
as a memory pops up
of the walks through
the park, you cupping my hand,
the talks we shared of
all our plans. The wind waltzing
through the trees, and the crunch of
red leaves under our feet.

The weather said
thunderstorms and wind. I
wasn't going to stand outside
soaked to the skin.

I wasn’t going to go.
I felt languorous. I dreamt of
slouching on my couch vacantly
staring at my laptop cross.

I wasn’t going to go.
I have a penchant for alcoholic
drinks. And the Crème de Menthe
and chocolate liquor felt like splendor
when the world outside ate all the cherries
spitting out the pits.

I wasn’t going to go
but for the fervor of him
I did. And I danced in the rain –
not at all cross. And I
went home and didn’t have a
drink. And the world is splendiferous
after I saw his shining face.

the things you said
your lines were wrinkles
as an unmade bed. I felt *****
and unclean as unwashed sheets
and I slept in them as a mother hen
laying on her eggs
till they cracked
and the yolks ran out
in a yellow river

When I went over
the way we were
I was drained as the sand
in an hourglass. The more I poured
myself into you the less of me
I spilled over you as sweet perfume
now I'm an empty bottle
sitting on the dresser
covered in the dust of us

When I went over
everything I lost
you were debris blowing
in the wind
catching in my eye
making me blind
a cyclone spinning
till I crashed
and splintered
you can hang your hat
on my jagged splinters

in the subway home tonight. This is much
more fascinating than your newspaper. There's the frontpage,
in bold Italics, pointy as the girl's long *******. It'll make
you sway. Hope you're not standing! The weather is a bit

chilly. Says so on the weather page. Tonight there's
going to be a bone frost.  Check out the
obituaries. Something's dying. But they didn't mark
the place or the time. The tv page says the drama on

the next window frame will hollow out
the train. Hope your stop is sooner than later. Don't forget
to tuck it under your arm. You won't have time to fold
it neatly and place it inside the black leather.

I had no say in the matter
whether I was an accident
or planned. I was born into
this world a helpless baby

girl. I depended on you,
the adult, to take care
of me. I couldn’t walk
or talk. I didn’t have teeth. If I

was too much a burden
on you the parent, I shouldn’t
be shamed by your lack
of care. I shouldn’t have to

visit a therapist for sixteen
years! I shouldn’t have to undo
all the damage you’ve done! You’re
dead now; but my life still goes on. You should

have known to get help/should have
listened to your best friend. She warned
you. But no, you didn’t want to face that
or anything else. So, you put on a mask

and hid your real self. And many
believed you. Your performance
was grand! Even my best friends
couldn’t understand years later

when we’ve all grown up
that although the physical abuse
was healed, my internal scarring grew
roots so deep from the emotional

abuse that I will die with the
secrets inside. Because I’ve been shamed
so much not to talk. I didn’t ask to
be born. You didn’t want me. You

should have aborted me. But the legend
of pain lives on.

Bitter berry
despite your pretty, white flowers
the bitterness you hold inside
is poison with each attending try
Even your leaves singe
upon touching them
All parts of you contain
an irritant that starts in your roots
and shoots up to the oblong crimson moons
Pain ensues -
Unbearable
5 or 6 will make you ill
But the 2nd one done you in
Never to go back
Black
No longer admiring
the pretty, white flowers
Bitter as the Bane
You must live in shade

Torpidity

gives me permission to let go
of the things I don’t want to hold
onto. Indolence is my friend. He tells me
what to put down. Bury a  dead horse. It will

fertilize the ground. Don’t follow
lethargy. Give him space; he’s untidy. He
doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s only
going through the motions.

fall in puddles like the rain
outside the window
on the ground they slowly piddle
dribbling memories hang as curtains

blowing in the breeze
of the big-mouthed window
flapping in the dusty air
wings of penguins that can't fly

turn from side to side
like a swivel chair
the blackness grows like a fungus
on all of us

we learn not to trust
the nights are taffy
stretching out
pulling and twisting

we'll shine up
the lines glossy
the next morning
with paint and spray
to begin the day

He was a brick wall. I was a rubber ball
bouncing off him. He was the stone. I was
alone sitting next to him. He didn't read

a line/didn't hear a word I
said. My words, winged as birds
flew over his head. I swear

I was fog. I'd no visibility. I hung
like mist. But he'd no agility. I was
the blood-filled cyst he drained. He cut off

the tip and let run the pain. My screams
were bottled he didn’t uncork. I was
just a model he repeatedly forked.