has a spiky thorn
that’ll jab you
even shorn
so, beware child
beware
of sweet perfume
in the air

Every sky
has a rainy cloud
cloaking you in a gray shroud
so, beware child
beware
of cotton candy
high up there

Every ocean
has a rip
that’ll drag you
from shore
a trip that’ll **** you up
spit you out as an apple core
so, beware child
beware
of a watery
dancing flare

Every viper
has fangs
laying still
as parted bangs
so, beware child
beware
don’t trap yourself
in his snare

is a goodbye letter from me. And each
decoration that hangs is a pang
from this broken heart, because this year
we’ll be apart. You’ll spend the day with

family and friends. I’ll spend the day
bringing this life to an end. You’ll be
opening presents. I’ll be pouring the contents
of a bottle down my throat and

swallow. I’m hollow without
your love. When you look above in the night
at the stars burning bright think of us
as it was. You threw it away –

because? I hope the new year brings
you joy. This past year everything I had
been destroyed. And I ran out reasons
to stay, without you anyway.

Everything

I wish I knew everything I know now
before I blew everything with you.
I wish I could undo it all and start all
over again. “I’m sorry” seems so weak

and can’t hold a light to anything at all,
especially your loveliness. I confess it was
all my fault. I wish I knew the right words to say
to make your pain go away.  If only I had

the chance to resurrect this love
once more I’d gladly give up any days that remain
in my future for one solitary moment in time
when you were mine. I had everything. But

I understand, there’s nothing I can do.
I’ve tried. And I must accept your happiness doesn’t
depend on mine. I respect your honesty. I will live out
my years in a memory, when we were hand in hand,

and your body molded perfectly to mine. But I’ll
never have peace of mind. Because I can’t forget
everything we had before and what I did to make it
go away. Who knows if love will bloom,
again? It’s too soon. And not for me to say.

down
as my *****
to my stomach. With Covid,
the stocks took a plummet.

Everything backs
up
as the drain
in my tub. The acid
in my esophagus is thick
as a hippopotamus. And the line
into the store is a mile
from the door!

Everything slows
down
as my bowels. It *****
as I’m older. No pun, but my metabolism
can stand a motor. And my life's
put on pause. This virus
made new laws.

Everything speeds
up.
Time is escaping. But the death toll
is breaking me. We're making
history!

for her, from acorns on
the oak tree, pelting her deck
like a roughneck, to her saggy
pertless breast, that cannot sit

straight on her chest, to strands of
her honey hair clogging the drain
in her bathroom tub. So, the water's
moving slower than a slug as

she's lifting the plug. It's hard
getting old. She's cold all the time
as the sun falls from the sky
and blackness starts at five. Leaves

fall with her, and wither like her
aging skin. If she had back her younger
days she'd fall for the boy next store,
not ******* the kitchen floor.

from my head to my feet –
and all the parts in-between
my stomach churns acid like butter
head spins like a record player
eyes burn from sleepless nights –
when the only thing shut is the shade
my mind is alert and awake
I’ve a sandpaper tongue
when I lick my lips I cut the sides
and spit out blood in spades
my teeth have more pockets than my shirt
hunched over I’m half the person
I once was
drinking does that to ya
I don’t socialize anymore
I’d rather be alone in my discourse
grubbing for my poetry isn’t easy
on this old horse
instead of getting better as wine –
I’m getting worse

add anything left-over
even if it's frozen
cut into the onions
until -
I don't have to tell you
add those nasty stale bread
pieces. There's a name
for them, doctor -
split the wilted lettuce
down the middle
toss
toss again
the cupboard holds the vinegar
as well as the liquor
this ain't no Arby's
there's no beef
not in the salad
the beef's in the air

I'm Eeyore. A dark cloud's
hanging over me, raining wine and
poetry. I won't leave the house. The sun
doesn't rouse me. I can't even leave

my bedroom. I'm so drowsy. Every day
is the same, lousy. Pulling the blankets
over my head, sinking in as a hibernating
bear. I'd like this year to disappear. It's a task

to brush my teeth, wash my face,
and join the human race. Men tell me to snap
out of it. Look at the bright side of things!
Count your blessings! But I'm a slug. And this

world is a treadmill looping around
and moving the ground under my feet. Colorful
collage of mixed messages scrambled together
that I can't encode. Slipping through my hands
like a muddy toad.

dissolves
into dust. My boyfriend
turned to rust. He tarnished as specks
hanging from my eyes. His memory
crystalized.

Everything I touch
breaks –
the vase that holds the flowers
my spirit by the hours.

Everything I touch
crumbles
as the leaves
underneath my feet. My hands
are made of tacks, poking holes
in men’s backs.
  
Everything I touch
fades
as the shade
on a scorching summer’s day –
The grass is yellow and thin
like my skin.  Pulled and stretched
as straw. And my youth
is no more.

eyes
when you’re shy. The whole
world’s gaze is upon you. It
makes you very uncomfortable.

Everything looks like
one big chore
when you’re depressed. Even
getting up and getting dressed
is hard to do. You’re stuck to
the bed like glue.

Everything looks like
a monster
when you’re paranoid. You avoid
people because you think they’re
up to something. Your trust in this
world is severely lacking.

Everything looks like
Paradise
when you’re in love. The moon
is pizza. The sun is honey. And
you come to the table very hungry.

the sun, the clouds. The birds
fly south. The ocean tide recedes
from the shore. Crimson leaves

break off from the trees and circle
in the wind. The butterfly does
her mating dance again and

again then waltzes off like so many
men. Children grow up and leave
home. Friends divorce and move

on too.  Only a dead body
lies still. And still,  I can't find
the will to move on from you.

dry
if you take
and you don’t put in.
Love grows stale
as a garbage pail

Everything runs
taut
if you pull
in the direction
it’s not

Everything runs
efficiently
if  you grease the wheel
before it squeaks

Everything runs
out
the timer is set
as soon as we’re born –
a place of no return

I can’t take a vacation
from this life. There’s a virus
going around. And they’re shutting
everything down. Why am I always

running against the win? Is it the
opposition? I refuse to be another brick
in the wall. I’m a hole in the mortar,
the size of a quarter.

I reach out
I get my hands slapped
the door slammed in my face
pushed aside
given the rejection notice
the poor excuse
why do I try
am I narcissistic

because I’m the only one
who believes in me
the only one who can see
that I have the potential for this
that loneliness and drink aren’t
what I want to build my life on
and yet………...
they abound
how can I rise

when there’s no one
to lift me up
I am tethered to
an empty room of solitude
where I put these things in motion
give this the wings to fly
and even though I free it
it just sits on its perch
and cries
every time

I held it swiftly
and swiftly it passed
like a car crash

and the causalities were many
like a box of Good & Plenty
white and pink capsules

those oval rascals all jounce together
unravel like a sweater
caught on a hook

I am
by yesterday
hung on every word you said

like clothes stretched on the line
in wintertime
frozen stiff in place

because they’d rather be there
then tucked away
when will I cease

like a flaccid *****
I can’t enter anything
here I go again

a part of me withers
I can’t describe this feeling
words are too revealing
and I would never burden you
with them
nor start the preface
why give way to persuasion
this is not the occasion

I bid you joy in your travels
a safe, secure arrival
the loon and the lake
the stars and trees
when you look up at
the full moon in its black drop cloth
think of me
I will be thinking of you
that’s enough
for now
I’ll hold on
to this thought

if I stay on
I might miss
my destiny

Everywhere a stop
if I get off
I might miss
my destiny

Everywhere a Stop
if I don’t go
this is
my destiny

the earth is
a pond. My tears
make a puddle so big

the fish can cuddle. They
roll as dice so fast
it scares the mice. I’ve a moat

around myself. You can see
dead bodies float as lily pads –

none can cross
but the albatross.

We dip them in thought
In reverie
See them as marks on a page
In dark, in our sleep
Carved in stone
Hung on the walls
Out in the streets
Close and afar
They comfort
They wound
They evoke
They’ve brought many to ruin
From one careless stroke
They’re works of art
In all languages
In different classes
Some are spares
Some profound
Some pithy
Some glib
Some ancient
Others more modern
Everywhere we live
words

The hurtee hurts the hurter worse
The shattered trust/the hurter terse
What's left of feelings burn
Nothing is as once before
No More
Except for
A skewed bridge
Thus remain
Despite the anguish and the pain
Two minds grill
Bodies sans frill
Come to extract
The Before and After
This is catharsis
This is healing
To walk a bridge
Where planks are missing
But insisting
Not to fall in
Not to fall over
But to find the footholds - together

When I was looking for sun
it rained
When I was looking to heal
I pained
When I was looking for love
it went
I never did well at tracking
its scent
When I was looking for success
I failed
So, I stopped looking at all
and exhaled

my front lawn,
as I'm raking the autumn
leaves.  Eyes follow me
to my backyard from

the street. Eyes sit heavy
in their grey Chevy as I bag
crimson and yellow. Eyes
lit the dark like a spark from

a smoldering cigarette. Eyes
haven't a body, just a silhouette against
the rock. Eyes that stalk leave me
with the creeps. I get rattled by

darting peeps. Eyes on my body,
drink me up like a hot toddy. Black
as tea burning a hole in the ground,
round like a bowl follow me around.

He groomed me
as a Faberge painted
in azure, with pearls placed in rows
like lace. Standing in gold

legs, to be looked at. So, as not
to break. But I cracked as mother
hen sat on me. And none put my pieces
back with flattery. With jagged

edges, sharp as swords, I was
***** and dusty like a barnyard
floor. I birthed myself in no
opulence of wealth. Scattered my shell

like raindrops. Flecks of me
on rooftop and trees, blowing
in the breeze. But not to live as
a Faberge'. I'm a scrambled egg.

Faith isn’t walking in the dark
It’s entering into the light

Faith isn’t believing what you don’t know
It’s knowing what you believe

People talk of blind faith –
That’s for fools worshiping idols

Faith is seeing what others can’t
Believing what others won’t
It’s fully intentional

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.

from the cloudy skies.
Dewdrops on a morning blade.
Running rivers from blue eyes.

Lolling in the Everglades.
Streaming in my clawfoot tub.
Sudsy as I sprawl and scrub.

The kettle says it hot.
Steaming in the ***.
Swirling down the drain.

A puddle in the rain.
Pour it in the coffee grounds.
But it makes some men drown.

It’s a part of me.
A drink for the flowers.
This garden’s raised on showers.

The birds wet their feathers.
Cleans the stain off my leather.
Pitter-patter on the windowpane.

How it grows the honey grain.
We need it to survive.
It keeps us all alive.

Fantasy and Memory

are mostly the same.
They occupy space
inside my head.
In fantasy I chase
a dream instead
of an event.

But they whip up
the same feelings,
don’t they?
My dealings
of them
lead me astray
either way.

You took my heart,
of course. Salut!
I’m giving my body
to the institution. This anguish

reached no resolution. The ***** –
the only solution. You come
now, shaking and unsteady. But your
aim was plenty ready as

I went down. There will be
no marker for me. My blood is
the ink that you read, drained on every
page. I tried to engage them all with

my lines. But what they wanted was
admittance in the crypt,
a pittance they’ll pay for this
sin. Lucky for me there was

plenty of them to support my
supply. Will you be like Lavinia
and hand over my verse to disperse
when this good earth has ******

my last ***. Don’t bury me
with it. Spread it as you do your seed –
let it drop and plant some trees. This
is my dying wish, to be Heard –
when I leave this earth.

If I could wave the goodbyes,
goodbyes
bid them farewell
without malice intent

instead of planting them  
in my backyard
until they turn cement
and become the sidewalk

I trod upon
an empty grave
If I wouldn’t save them
I could stave off

the ruefulness and
discontent of
another day

your little girl is looking
at you with hollow eyes, carved out
from your lies. In the cavity, the voices
in his head nestled as lead. Daughter,

mother doesn't like you to bother her! Go to
your room little girl.  Can't you see he's out
of this world? Children are dolls. You dress up
and play with between the scratches and

welts. Not a breathing female,
as yourself.  Rolled up in a ball she's a hedgehog,
sticking out her quills as teeth. Biting on
the swears and screams. All the soft underbelly,

stuck as a jar of jelly. Living in daddy's
world of maelstrom it's hard to
live strong. So, she curls up onto
herself, sticking it to the soft hand

that playfully moves near her. Touching
you with the pins, poking out her mouth.. Full of
jabbing ******, and shouts, leaving you bleeding. But
then, this is her greeting. Don't let them underneath -

as you did daddy. He's in the padded room,
cushioned with the nurse's perfume.

a fever
with love

Feed
Your enemy
with kindness thereof

Feed
the hopeless
with dreams

Feed
the cursed
by means

Feed
the lonely
with song

Feed
your temper
not long

Feed
this life
with creation

Feed
your emptiness
with imagination

Is the sun too bright
for the sky? Does it burn out
the azure like a moth trapped
in a light fixture till it dies?

Is the ocean too deep
for the land? Does it swallow
the green as it stands?

Is the nightingale too melodic
in her song? Singing all night
in the moonlight. Does her pitch throw
the switch on his wand?

Is the dandelion too strong
for his coiffured lawn? As he
cuts her down she rebounds, poking out
her head like a foot from under
the spread. He can’t shell her
like a prawn.

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

the broken pieces
as a mosaic. The blues
are azure and the reds are
archaic. As a kaleidoscope,

a house of mirrors,
the colors are cut. The things
you can do with a room
full of errors! Fill in the blanks

with melodic song. And if it
all tanks bang a gong! You can
fill in for somebody else. But don't do
as them. Show up as yourself. Fill in the canvas

with mountains and sky, oceans and
eagles, till the paint runs dry. Fill in the calendar
with family and friends. The chapters you
penned with a life of adventure.
And make it all blend!

because I'm laced
with turpitude. And now
I'm standing in the ****,
uncovered. So, I'm

smothered from all
that touches me, like a white
canvas splattered with
red and black paint. I ain't

man. I ain't woman. I am
nil. I fill up with all you are. I fill up
like a cookie jar. I can fill with rocks
or cherries. I can fill with chocolate

chips or poison berries. Just tell me
all you like. I'll string you like a flying
kite. I'll take you high up in the air. I'll
take you till I break you like a broken chair.

She met      at a
She went      when she got word of
That’s when      happened. And since
it hasn’t been
Don’t look at me! This is Your Poem

up or push it
down. Put it aside
or bury it with frosted
cream donuts and

chocolate. Drown it
in one-hundred proof. Cover
it like the weathered
shingles on your

roof. Patch it like your
ripped denim jeans. Iron it
out so no one sees
the seams. Pull the splinters

one by one and stick
them in the corkboard with
your black push pins. It's deep
and dark like the sea and bleeding

like a sonnet. Wrap it up and
tie it like a bonnet under your
chin. Now head held high. Fool
them with that wide-tooth grin.

fill this insidious mouth
with your tongue
so the words don’t come out
sharp as shards

and fill up these eyes raining needles
that sting with each fling like
a pesky mosquito with soft kisses
that cling like laundry without the fabric softener

then fill up my loving one
with your smoking cigar
don’t drop your ashes
and turn my legs to char

fill the ones in my head
with delicate song
cause there’s smokestacks in them
and croaking frogs

last but not least
fill the one in my heart
whose rhythm has ceased
it needs a jump-start
fill it with all the love
one man can
and if it runs out
fill it again

because I’ll never have
my fill of you –
how could the dark night
have its fill of the moon?

Would you please stop
reading into my intentions
come down off your high horse (or rabbit)
you boggle my mind with your all

or nothing stance
I know you want to hate me right now,
and that's OK
I've written you lots of emails in my head,

but they are too long at the moment
to put into words
despite the hurtful "shadowy corners"
I want to see you tomorrow

Runaway Bunnies don't want to be lost,
they want to be found; that's why they run away
there should be a banner above your hutch
to remind you of that

appears. Then he descends
down the stairs. He doesn’t come
into view until he’s half-way
into the room. This being a Tuesday

afternoon. This is the day of
my Lent, where I practice abstinence –
a wide-tooth smile for a drink. Behind
doubled doors and two windows

he blinks. I lean in close to the
glass. I wish my head could float so
it would pass between the cracks

and enter in. But so, would the germs
I’m carrying. This is the what I live for
all day, a glimpse, a nod, a smile –
his face.

is confining
like a smelly foot
in a sock that’s in a ***** shoe
it has no ability to breathe
or move
free is the earth
under my bare feet
free as in birth
when one is released
from the darkness
and cuts the cord
that wrapped around
her neck –

at least that’s what mine did
maybe it explains this state –
a lack of oxygen
and always wanting
to escape
take the infant
out of the ocean womb
and place her
in a box
all alone without
human contact
as if she was
an egg to hatch
when she already pushed
through the crack

Five Billion Dollars
For a wall
Think of all
The many mouths you could feed
If you don’t go ahead and proceed
People working while they’re withholding wages
Young children separated from their parents
Living like animals in wired cages
I used to be proud to call this country home
Maybe I will be again
If and only when
we impeach the president

You can't quell a rage in two minutes
any more than you could use an ice cube
on a fire. You careless tossed a lit cigarette
out the door. It smoldered as you went

in. But then something old got caught
on it. And it started flaming. Something that
was sitting around for years. Something
that we shelved. Something we thought

we neatly tucked away, until the day
it fell out. Now it is spread fast as the
coronavirus. And besides this I know we
can't serve it justice.

as a gosling
in the pond
trying to take
off. But never
accomplishing
the feat. So back to
waddling
my feet.
Wanting to
be air-bound.
Have the wind
beneath my wings,
the breath of
the sun shone
on my face.
High above
everyone.
Never staying
in one place.
Soaring
exploring
vast lands.
A delta bird
Flapping
but only
Splashing
water
in my face.

I believe if you have something
you should flaunt it. Don’t be ashamed
of what others say. They’re just jealous,
anyway. Be proud of yourself. Don’t hide

from the world. Wear that lipstick
smile. Glide in that slender dress, the one with
the low-cut neck. Sing a song of love and
pain. Cry out loud. But don’t remain hidden as

a rock beneath the leaves, silent as a hawk
above the trees. Make a statement. Show the world
you are not the average girl.

I sweep it up
like dust on the floor

But it collects again in spots
larger than before

I could make a powered cake
if I added some sugar

But it would fall apart and break
in my hand before I ever
got it to my lips

It slips on these rituals -

Call me habitual
but I can’t shake loose
this flimsy truth

I love how I can slip you on
slip you off

I don’t have to bend down
to tie two strings together

or pull a piece of leather
through a loop or put a metallic pin

through an assortment of holes, making it tight or loose
depending on where it goes

there’s room enough to wiggle my toes
and for my feet to breathe

I love how you because you make my life easy

from flower to flower. Flying
like a hurricane in the sun and
rain. Agile and flirty are you
ruby-throated birdy. Your wings

a silk folding fan. Your beak expands
like a pointed sewing needle, dining on
blood-******* mosquitoes. But also
couples as a sword for obstinate

discord. Zipping by and chirping
notes like a skinny thunderbolt. You’re
here and then you're darting like
a serpent in the air. If I blink, you'll disappear
like the days this whole past year.

Her decisions are petals
of a daisy,
plucked off one

by one. It makes her
crazy. She can’t undo what is
done. These gaps make her sour. Too many

for one little flower. All she can do
is hold onto the remaining ones
and hope that the light

of the sun will be forgiving to
a petulant floret, who remains sore at
the ones who tore at her petals

for their own puckish pleasures.
If all is lost
she’ll stick feathers in

where the petals have been. Each one of them
she’ll splay. Then pack up and fly
away

at midnight all I see
is a very long string
high above the black-jet sky
it disappears
and I’m losing footing
the ground is sheer
I’m not looking
down or facing the fear
that I’m too heavy
and the floor’s too deep
I could sink right through
beneath
but I’m feeling elated
so long I’ve waited
to hold the string of heaven’s sting
until I plummet
as a meteor from outer space
and the string I held
falls flat against this
icy watery grave
had I lived I would have said –
Christ! never again will I fly
a kite at midnight over the ice
Not only did I lose my kite –
I lost my life