I have not faced
your cold stare.
You can’t be traced.
Please come here.
These words get laced,
entangle and snare.
So, this I based
my deepest fear.
I acted in haste.
So, I bear
a life that’s chaste.
It’s not fair.

to say it! What will
he think? You’ll emasculate
him. He’s the one that should be
doing the pursuing. You play
hard to get. Make him chase after
it. Make him do all the work. You
sit back, look pretty and flirt. I’ve
heard it all before. And I don’t care
about what I’m supposed to do! So,
here it is –
I love you

for sixteen years or so. But therapy
has been doing me no good as  
far as I know. I’ve taken many a shrink
to the board. And many have bored me. I’ve regressed

no less, down to the size of a baby. I’m just as
neurotic and psychotic as I ever was. I’ve turned to
the bottle because it’s predictable, unlike the professionals
that I see. One I had *** with, the other was a coward who sang

Sinatra for me on his piano out of key. One had such arrogance
he ended the two-year treatment in a dear john email because
I told him that he needed help. His fragile ego
couldn’t take the advice from someone like myself.

in the rain. His kiss was a stain –
the stain of adultery.
But I let it hale. And so, grew the tale
of lover’s woe. I’d love to

kiss him in the snow. When the flakes
were thicker than us and all this
broken trust. We’d traipse through heavy slush
using as sleds our tongues. I’d love to

kiss in the sun, when the heat of the day
was young. We would bake our bodies
as bread and got drunk on love till we both
grinned from our foolish sin. I’d love to

kiss him in the wind, when my hair
was pinned against his cheeks and caught
between my teeth. We held each other tighter
when we knew our love was fleeting. I’d love

to kiss him every season.

I got into my car and drove
to his place. It was a dark and cold October night
when I crashed into a woman’s car that was
out of my sight. I didn’t stop and pull over. So, she

followed me down Main Street to his home. The
lights in his office where on. He was seeing
a patient. I’m surprised when he didn’t hear the sirens
blaring right outside his window. The woman I hit

called the police. I was so drunk;
I thought I was done. Not a scratch on my Red
Rio. The policeman walked around the vehicle a few times,
surprised. He asked me to roll down my window. I thought

for sure he was going to take me in. He only gave me
a warning “don’t leave the scene of an accident”
And then they all left, the woman whose car I totaled
and the policeman. I got out of the car in a

drunken daze. I couldn’t remember his front
gate. I must have walked around the place several
times before I found the latch to let me in at last. It must
have been a guardian angel that night that saved my life.

No concealer to hide
tired, puffy eyes.
No paint-on lips
with rouge lip-stick.
No mascara that extend
eye-lashes to no end.
No swept-on blush
that give an added touch
to make one look flush.
All you can see
The natural me.

Azure
Flashes of lighting
Cutting crisscross
The veins in your arms
The tops/da boss
I’m not talking blue eyes
I see Robin egg skies
Hatching chicks

You dig this
This ain’t your mom’s
Blueberry pie
It a punch in da eye
It’s electric
You dance/you move
It’s a jazz band
In the Fat City
It’s Calvin Klein
You going for this ditty

when thoughts no longer sung
If time were but a prelude
I’d say the prelude done

Distance is a gated community
And every path toward it
gives no man immunity

brush it aside,
like a strand of golden hair,
hanging as pleaded panel
curtains covering her

eyes. She'll face it head on,
square. She’ll not allow it
to sit, like dust coating the
furniture. She'll give it

a swift kick, let it fall
like a ton of bricks. She'll not
let it blow, like smoke from frying
steak in the pan in her kitchen,

out the window, in a black
colored band. She’ll not lock it
in the closet with all her
skeletons. She’ll mix it

up with the gelatin. Blood
orange and mint. Plate it
for dessert. Wash it down with
gin and tonic, all this hurt.

your problems
I’d wear them
but
cut off the sleeves
if I could take on
your tears
I’d drink them down
but
with some ***** and cherries
if I could take on
your pain
I’d wrap it up
in cauliflower and cheese
and bake it
in the oven
and they’d be leftovers
to eat again
and I’d serve them
with
***** and cherries
in my cut-off sleeves
and be buried under
a canopy of
willow trees

about the other
side. I don’t even understand
this side. I’m not sure some days
which side I’m on. Besides my side
I’m not sure I want to enter something
I’m not sure of, unless someone gives me
all the answers, and they all come
with written guarantees. The older I get
the more this bothers me.

to make the sweet wine.
Pluck them all first from the vine.
You need to cut the roses
for the wedding day. Every bride

needs a blooming bouquet.  
The apple must be pressed
to make the cider. And the meat
is ground for the meatball sliders.

So, I too have been crushed
cut, pressed, and ground
down. And as my bits fall together
I stand out from the pressure!

bend me
to their will
but I’ll snap back. Not
allowing them to fill
my head with flack.

They can
sting me
with their tongues. But
they’ll die as the stingers
fall. Words to me
have no weight
at all!

They can
throw me
to the wolves. But I’ll dance
in the sun/warble in the forest.
I kick up my heels when
I’m the sorest.

You - expecting me to change?
Me - maybe for a day or more
We all have our ways
Set as an old lady’s hair in rollers
I get a little bolder each day
We always go back to the familiar
It’s easier that way
Sorry I let you down
You don’t serve it
Sorry I wasn’t around
When you needed me - I ran
I run everything down
I’m a broken record
I keep repeating
The same old pattern
I never did learn Latin in high-school
I learned to cop out
As usual

up to family and friends,
as a conquest -
the prize he has won.
But does he hold her up
when her womb is full of son?
When stretch-marks cross her belly
and childbirth leaves her tummy
wobbly as jelly?

He holds her
hand walking in the moonlight.
Under the stars he sweeps her off her feet.
But does he hold her hand
when she's old and not as sweet?
When wrinkles cover her skin
and her hair is grey and thin?

He holds her
in reverie,
google-eyed rhapsody.
But does she become a memory
once he sees reality?

anymore. My *******
aren't perky. They fall down
to the floor. My spirit's flopped over
and bored. My hunny's ******* has failed

inspection from the doctor. Even my chin
sags in disgrace. Why it's grown a twin! And my
tomato plants need to be tied because they droop
like my ***. It makes me asks

does anything stay up -
certainly not I.
I'm in bed before the sun goes down.
Even my smile has turned into

a frown. I can't get up after I've been
sitting to long. My knees don't cooperate. They knock
together like a couple a pair of boxers in the ring. Ah,
it's hell when you get to my age!

hanging in a dimming sky
an outline of a face
flat with just a trace
of a trimming sigh

eating up the night
drinking the starlight
swinging side to side
like a vampire bride

clinging to her past
walking the same path
on broken glass
she cuts her heels and cries

fading under the moon
lying in a spoon
the sun painting her lies
in Strawberry-Rhubarb pie

the time has come
not later
not tomorrow
not when you feel like it
not when you think it’s right
not when you’re ready
you’ll never be ready
no more excuses
no more hedging your bets
the moment is upon us
say
Yes

like an apple pie. Do as much
as I can before I die. Drink all
the flavors like cherry wine. Swing
like the monkeys from vine

to vine. Some day I’ll be too old
to chase the wind. My arms and legs
pinned to a chair. I’ll fly with the gulls
in the warm air. And circle

the clouds on a carousel, till the music
swells in a crescendo. Before my eyes
have cataracts and I’m stuck in bed
lying flat on my back I’ll run in the

breeze, cross oceans, and seas –
before arthritis sets in my knees. Before
I’m lain in the ground I just have to
get around. No man can hold me down!

any more than the leaves
in autumn. As they turn gold
crimson and orange they break off
from the tree and fall.

I can’t hold on
any more than the emerging
butterfly from the safety of
the chrysalis. My budding wings
have spurred me to fly. If I hold on
I'll only die.

I can't hold on
any more than a snake shedding
his old skin. No longer can it stretch
to fit this body. It's thin and worn. And I
can't grow under a cloak with holes. It’d rot
the fibers of my soul.

when you are so far away? I could
give you a love song to put in
your heart
something that will stick in your head
from the moment you get up
until you go to bed
something that’ll dream you to sleep
on nights when the temperature rises
that’s gentle
with no uncertain surprises
something that you’ll sing when it rains
that’ll put a smile on your face
it could be our little secret
when they ask why you laugh
just be coy and say “nothing”
can you keep it?

in a suitcase
sent it out to sea
so, it wouldn’t agitate me
thought the balmy air
and palm trees make it cool
but it didn’t fool it at all

I packed my rage
in an icebox
closed it airtight
so, it set on ice
thought it chill
but still, it’s fiery hot

I packed my rage
in the attic
sealed it in a box
told it “Get lost"
but it fought to break out
and I’m faced with
the same rout

I packed my rage
in the recycling bin
along with the tin cans
and plastic bottles
to salvage
but it landed as regret
now I carry it as a debt

There is no middle ground
The middle ground bottomed out
The compromise was selling short

as the swan
not regal
as the eagle
not colorful
as the macaw
or as mellifluous
as the nightingale

stout body
on a bobbing heads
short legs
strutting about
plumage grey

strong and swift
as a hickory stick
awarded a medal
for serving in the air force
carrying messages
back and forth
in both world wars

Pigeons are hors concours!

until she hung her head
in your flower bed. You scorched
her with the sun, then blinded her
in shade, until her petals turned

to blades. Just as her mother pulled
her from her roots to make a
colorful corsage. She wilted attached
in her arms. You plucked her from

the garden to place on
your lapel. You wore her well! But she
died when you took off the suit and
tie. Now she’s flat and faded. If you touch her

she’ll crumble. Even her thorns
have rusted into brittle mittens. She sits in
a leather-bound book, as a space saver,
page 43, in the crook of a page. She's placed

face down. The letters tattooed to her crown.

My words have wings
They fly over your head
As the nightingale sings
In a graveyard of dead

My feelings have legs
They run off at the mouth
As a poor man in dregs
Dreams of the south

Oh give me a vessel
To hold these things in
I’ll no longer wrestle
With where I have been

Time should be filled
with sandy beaches
and sun
cockleshells
and crazy spells –
not wishing
the day be done

It should not be killed
with idleness or the mundane
with things that don't please
or offer release
just doing it the same

Nurse These Starving Babies

You put the effort into creating them. As a child
with a toy, you anxiously, in a frenzied state,
tear apart at the box.  And as soon as you’re done
playing, the novelty wears off. You crave

another that’s held inside a white container,
and then later, the same thing. You leave it there
starving for your attention. No more! If you want these
children of yours to take flight, fly off

the pages and into books and magazines then
you have to carefully cultivate every word and stanza
before you tender. Don’t release them without their walking
legs. Give them love, attention and praise.

Big. They cost me my sleep –
restless nights bedeviled about your
indifference. They cost me my health –
turning to the bottle for help. They cost me

my inner peace. I’m at war with myself. But
most of all they cost me my faith in human
ambiance.  I can no longer rely on what is. Ruminating
how does someone give you so much love,

make so many promises and then
retract everything. And that cost me with
having future relationships. There’s a wall up
now ten feet tall. And I hide behind it every day.

as snow turns into
a puddle and dissolves
I wouldn't fuddle my head
with alcohol. Paint myself up

as a doll. Spread my legs
as Eagle wings! Pulled as
a puppet on strings. I'm a snowball
that's grown from men that buttered
me up as a scone, greasing their fingers

and licking my bones. I once was
a river. Now I've a river of men that skate
on ice. Some fallen in. That's the vice of
wearing pigskin!

in the morning stops
my groggy yawning. Has me bright-eyed
and bushy tail, ‘stead of sluggishly as a snail.

Coffee in the afternoon has me floating
higher than a balloon. Gets my **** off the seat. Gets me
jumping to the beat.

Coffee in the evening increases
my breathing, prevents me from sleeping. So, I drink
water instead before I go to bed.

I give my all.
No less.
But my all
is far from best.

I take nothing.
No more!
Because nothing
is near the worst
of practicalities.
That is my reality.

all the Ivy leagues –
Yale, Princeton and Harvard
No one could say I was a coward
I told them my story
Sent it in a video
Wrote it in a paperback
Willing to enlist every high-brow’s flack
Put it out on YouTube
About his abuse
It’s called ******
Some go to jail for it
It’s masked as love
It’s made in the shade of shame
Hidden in the therapy room
Buried with the dust –
Under his couch
Crouched in the woman’s pantaloons
In the heads of the best –
Of all who swoon
And lied to defend
Those ****** afternoons

over you. The same hand that patted me
on the back slaps me in the face, The same eyes
that looked into mine so lovable show detachment
the next time we embrace. I run away and then

come crawling back home. It hurts to stay. But it
kills me to be alone. One day I’m filled with
elation and song. The next time I’m consumed with
contempt and can barely get along. How can

the same person who once held me up make me
now so furlong? Once I was baking chocolate cupcakes
and sitting in your lap. Now I’m frying the contents
of my brains in a 2oz. shot glass. I used to believe

love was healing. Now I’ve come to know it
as a weapon of destruction. And the fall-out reduces me
to a trash can of burning leaves. All the colors bleed
into black char. And the night rains ashes instead

of water. I feel as a stillborn. I was alive when I
was incubated, safe and warm attached to the cord –
the same one that strangled me. I died the day I was
born. Some things aren’t meant to be.

and die. I did not reply. You’re
a *****. And I’m a singer. People
like you ruin it for people like me. How,
I just do karaoke. You have to take

down all the videos or a price
you'll pay for those. People dropping like
flies as I subside. So now I’ve myself
an OnlyFans page.  I’m making

less than minimum wage. And Europe
closed all the borders. That's in stock for
Trump supporters! So, my relaxing holiday
has taken a nose-dive. But tonight, I'll show signs
of acting drunk again. Drinking has turned into
my new religion.

Girls were -
Men were -
Oh, you’re a holiday, such a holiday
Millions of eyes can see
Yet why am I so blind
Didn’t need no welfare state
Everybody pulled his weight
When the someone else is me
It’s unkind; it’s unkind
Fifty dollars paid the rent
Freaks were in a circus tent
If the puppet makes you smile
If not then you’re throwing stones
Guys like us we had it made
Those were the days

Served with can’t
and won’t. Don’t feel
This. Just don’t. Put it in
a box. Seal it with heavy duty

industrial tape. Label it. Put it
upstairs in the dusty
attic, along with all the rest
of the boxes. You know

it’s there. I know it’s there.  But
let’s not talk
about it. Let’s not bring
it up. Let’s pretend it’s in

heaven with your father,
snuggled in his tobacco-
jaundice hands. Let’s not make
any plans.

I cut out pieces of myself to fit in.
I wasn’t me; I was someone else’s twin.
I was a duplicate ran through the copier.
Looking as the rest, maybe a little sloppier.

I didn’t know who I was anymore.
I wasn’t sure who I was doing this for.
I wanted to be me, whoever that was.
I wanted to fit in for no reason, just because.

I wanted to be loved, but at what cost?
Those pieces I cut out got tossed.
I looked in the mirror and what did I see?
An abbreviated version of what used to be me.

Fallacious

as the spider legs she wears on
her eyes. The hairy ones, tarantula in size. As deceptive
as the curling smile she paints on her lips. And the
artificial sweetener replacing the sugar

in her dish. Her friends are much the same,
no deep conversations, no intimacies. All her life
she’s been fed lies that tasted like
cardboard boxed pies. Many false starts

turned into complete stops,
with nowhere for her to get off. If she had
a kernel of truth, she’d microwave it until it expanded,
to the size of a fruit.

the day
as a Diamond Core
cutting the cement floor. Pieces
as scattered as my head, strung
together the beads of lead.

I break up
with men.
I shuffle them
as playing cards. I turn out
the jokers as a hand of poker. They're
my wild cards.

I break up
laughing.
Shy of gaffing
the prize. They just don't
buy my guise!

I break up
the eggs.
Scramble them
as my brain. The eggs
are soft. I am not.

behind me? Footprints in
the snow that’ll melt as the day
grows old? Or am I an ice cube that'll
lose shape, watered down

thin as a crepe? A silhouette
on the wall for all to discern
like the Rorschach test in turn? Am I
just a fallen log that’s ****** on

by passing dogs? Or am I spackle that
oddballs like to tackle? Don’t spread
me out as filler. I’ll carve my initials
with a hammer and chisel on every pillar

and door/ on every mountaintop and
marble floor.

He was sweet
as honey dripping
until he spilled
his last drop.

He was bright
as the stars shining
until he shut
the lights off.

He was cool
as a fan blowing
on a hot July day
until he pulled the plug
and took his breath away.

He was bearing fruit
as the apple tree
until the winter frost.
I stood starving
under him
until I was lost.

what would you call me? If I wasn’t attached
to a person, as a daughter, wife, mother or friend
you couldn’t say this is so and so’s daughter, wife,
mother or friend. What if I didn’t have a job or

a hobby? You couldn’t say she does this
or that. What if I didn’t even have an address? You
couldn’t say she lives there. All of the spaces would
be blank, because there wouldn’t be anything to fill

them in with. People would wonder about
such a person like this, unhitched and uncoupled. Would I
still exist? I would still have my thoughts; I would still have
my brain. I would still be me, the same.

Why walk
Skip
Less talk
Strip

Why worry
Play
Less flurry
Stay

Why Hide
Be
Less pride
Agree?

Why wait
Amour
Less Hate
For sure!

blue water
palm trees dipping
as a river otter
breezes teasing
my hair
string bikini
is all I wear
frozen drink melting
in my hand
toes dancing pirouettes
in the sand
not a cloud
to block the view
skin bronzed
as a statue
smells of coconut
and pineapples
standing under
a straw hut
sunlight dabbles
I hear the waves crashing
men and women splashing
Calypso music
permeates the air
laying on a lounge chair
men with braided tresses
woman wearing
flowered sundresses
volleyball and barbeques
think I might take a snooze

If Only

I could make enough
for a few days in Venice
when is this bad streak ever
gonna end
when will the sun come out
where is a friend
when you need one
who needs a reason to
read one –
of my books
I’ll give you two
one to help a poor drunk
come out of a slump
the other
to make this woman’s
dream come true
I’ll give you a third
If you spread
the word
I need to be heard and wish
to be sober
come October
the sales will be up
more than they’ve been
the last few months

as the wind. She blows
through the trees. And swirls
in a billowing gusty breeze. But nobody

sees her face. She's the mist hanging
in the air, the drips of sweat
on his neck from ear to ear. She's the

condensation on the bathroom mirror. He
looks into hoping to see clearer. But he can't wipe
it off. She's a lipstick stain stuck

on a cloth, hidden in his breast pocket. She'd
hoped to be Tiffany's locket, gold, and shining
in the sun/not covered over as a nun.

coughing up sand
thrown by the tide
on the shore we land

just a couple of mollusks
ribbed and tanned
shining in the sun
wearing a coat of raised bands

half broken off
insides feasted on
the wader, sandpiper
and the roving prawn

we don't fit together
as we're not one in the same
but we both washed up
from where it is we came

like a raindrop
running down the rooftop
a jagged stalactite
dropping like dynamite

You changed
like the azure sky
as dark clouds rolling by
bringing the thunder and lightening
splitting the sky
like a bowling pin striking

You changed
like the leaves in winter
the golden crimson splinter
making the branches bare
as the frozen ground, it shares

You changed
like a bear in hibernation
you closed off
and left me guessing

myself
with me
as I go
in the same shoes
though they’ve
grown larger
through the years
are miry
and full of tears

I carry
my pain
deep inside my chest
my chest concaved
and that shaved years off
my life

I carry
the past
in an hourglass
looking at the grains of sand fall
slow on the days I’m restless
faster on the days, with you
till I shattered the glass
and all the grains spewed

I carry
the weight
of this world
upon my back
like a gunny sack
filled with rocks
and obnoxious things
on such a petite frame
till I cut the strings