in my head. I think of him
instead and a rush of heat comes
over me. I build up to a

great release. It’s like a wave rolling
to shore that takes away everything
that lays in its reach.

Without the head to paint it
the canvas is blank;
the beach is vacant.

as the Milky way
from the dawn's gleam of light
to the black edged sword of night
divided as the oceans

on a seascape terrain
landing as a pin
on a galaxy pulled to spin
she planet Earth, him Neptune

with no bridge
to cross them over
green as a field of clover
under a grey goose sky

hailing with stinging bees
a woman's silhouette
with pen dancing pirouettes
her soldier turns and flees

she lost him in the dust
blown like spores of pollen
he cannot hear her callin
the horizon has leprosy

When the caterpillar changes
its leaves its old life behind. Now it has

wings; now it can fly. The other caterpillars
either fly or they die. Some will change along

and become a butterfly. But the butterfly
doesn’t take notice of the ones left

behind. Either they’ll catch up or they won’t. And if
they don’t this world up here has much to offer,

incredible beauty and freedom
of movement, unrestricted for the uninhibited.

weeping purple leaves
bowing her curly tight head
swinging lithe limbs
singing in shadows old

time hymns. Redbud
lavender pea flowers
they call ruby falls. Amusing
the hours surfing on  

a begotten breeze. Skimming
the water looking for ducks,
frogs and geese. Some say she's
lonely. Some say she's blue. Grey

clouds befall her all standing in
queues. She mingles with dewdrops
and jingles in rhyme. Spending her time
flirting with sunbeams, tracking

herons looking to dine. The bellow of
bullfrogs paint a crimson smile,
while spilled perfume of lilacs dancing
in showers has her laughing for hours.

of wanting something
that isn’t mine. I’ve stolen
leather boots and red suede
suits. I never had a problem

taking what doesn’t belong to me. If I
thought I deserved it I wouldn’t
be reserved in grabbing what I wanted
without paying the price.  And it

became a habit that I achieved
very rapidly. I’ve gained a lot of
merchandise. But this time something’s
different. What I want is not on

the shelf, not up for sale, or
even available. But how can I take
somebody’s love without their
permission? It’s not my decision. So, I

must forgo the one and only thing
I would ever need that would make all
the other things look small. Believe it
or not I feel more guilty in the wanting

than anything I’ve stolen. I know I’m
out of place when I see the circle on his
finger, and the pictures of his children. He’s
building a life with another woman. And it

will never be with me –
I’m guilty of loving a man that’s not
mine. This time I can’t take it
for myself. But it breaks my heart
to see him with someone else.

he said –
screaming this as we’re
walking among the lilac trees
in the arboretum
while an old couple passes
our way. “Quiet”
I say. But he still prattles
on a couple of octaves
louder with his smart-***
going full blast with the cuss
words spilling out faster than
our feet and carrying
the sound further than I can
escape its presence. “I’ll call
the police” I tell him. That got his
attention. He stopped yelling,
for the moment
he must have
muffled the sound
in the therapy room
cause I was scared
and never seen
this side of him
must be
a full-moon –
in the afternoon?

with head lopped off
cracked is her plastic hair
laying in the corner
under the rocking chair

once was a princess
dressed in red satin
dancing pirouettes
in a music box
before she was flattened

Just a figurine
of a woman
with painted crimson cheeks
in a mirrored prison
walled in felt
that did not recognize herself

Trinkets thrown in
tarnished
color faded
yellowed the varnish
memories evaded

But the music plays
the same song
without the tiny dancer
as the little stick turns
in the center

as a wine stain in my carpet,
let go of his mock and argot. Wipe
the spill on my sofa of the cheese
and fig and mimosa. Plunge the

lace dress into the washer
that turned bright white
into mangy yellow. Sift the grit
out of that fellow. Wash him

out with the tide, so this pain
in me can subside. He's a flake,
a speck of dandruff. Shampoo
him out of my hair, this big, old

hairy grizzly bear! Wash this ****
from around my tub. Scrub it with
the bleach and gloves. "Shout" the ring
circling my collar. Absolve myself of this squalor!

like him to suffer,
ride a colliding train
without a buffer.
I'd like him to roast

as a pig
over a firepit,
revolving til charred,
pierced with a spit. I'd like

his bed as a wooden rack. And
his limbs pulled tight with
a rope till they detach. Whip
his back like whites of

an egg till he screams
and he begs. Pull his eyes
out of the sockets. Dump scorpions
in both his shirt pockets. And even so

after all of this
it doesn’t come close
to all that he did.

You Can’t Hold Me.

I would melt as chocolate,
running under the covers, leaving
an umber stain on your sheets. I’m a
marshmallow. I expand with heat. You could

lick me off, as frosting on a spoon. I’d be
a mouthful of mocha and orange too. You could
peel me as a banana, get to the fleshly part,
discarding my stringy covering, seeing

how easily I bruise. You could drink me,
after you pop my cork, get inebriated on the
licorice and fall into a coma that you might
not come out of. Poor you

expect them to lambaste you like
you’re a roast in the oven. You’ll come out
being salty. They’ll carve you for their
dinner, along with your saturated liver. They’ll

have you on a platter. And pass you around
like a cup of tea from the Mad Hatter’s. There’s
no going around this, even if you’re a lazy
Susan. Because by the time they are done with you –

your heart will take a bruising.

died
to many he was a savior
he left in dignity
not reality
he covered his stain
to all that remain he’s a stranger
I know his truth
his lies
and excuse
but he couldn’t be human on earth
so he took the secret with him
and left
the stain -
I

from the moment
we’re born. The doctors
perform the ritual of cutting
us off from our mothers when
they sever the umbilical
chord.

We get cut
again, if we are boys and our
parents circumcise us
by choice.

We get cut
out of people’s lives
as we get older. Some
relationships don’t last
forever.

We get cut
on the job
when the company
is downsizing. Only to
learn no one else is now
hiring.

We get cut
from the team
from our partner’s wills
in essential –
we can’t get through life
without undergoing the knife

a tortoiseshell.
But not a living thing
does dwell.

He’s harder than
a tall brick wall.
But not a crack
for an ant to crawl.

He's harder than
a steel locked cage,
throwing woman into
his blind rage.

He’s harder than
a concrete slab.
His heart’s manufactured
in a lab.

holes through-out
between her legs
and out her mouth
under her *******
and wavy hair
is a gaping polar bear

cut it thick
or cut it thin
you can stick
a fat girl in

what do I need
more grease
for the leverage
more nips
for the beverage
more tucks
for the tummy
more spanks
for the dummy
more somethin
for nothin
more excuses
than uses
confuses the hell
out of me
Dang This
world
Let me be!

Hiding.....
In the shadows -
My reflection remained -
The same.
Until I was stricken -
By the catalyst -
Who held -
Eternal flame!
Burning alive -
On fire!
Afflicted by -
The light!
Wincing -
Pulling into myself.
Was myself -
My only blight?
Now I face -
My Armageddon!
She's come!
She takes my -
Trembling hand.
And I eagerly follow!
But not without -
Trepidation.
Yet, still -
At her command!
I feel it!
It starting to happen.
I relinquish my body!
The spirit actuating!
Taking control.
That all along -
I possessed -
But couldn't release -
Inside a wounded soul!

on paper like a painter
with his brush. He crushed out
the lines till they were fine chestnut
powder that he sprinkled on me
like chocolate shavings on whipped cream.

He talked
on air like a dewdrop
on a blade of grass. It just rolled
off his lips in drips that pooled
in puddle on the floor. And he slipped
on it heading out the door.

He talked
over me like a breeze blowing
a **** on a weathervane. I swirled
in colored circles on the plane. And he
dipped like a chip in the salsa, as I floated
on it like a piece of balsa.

He talked
on and on like a recorder
as I flung like a fugitive over
the border to a quiet land to hear
the butterflies. And I skipped in fields
of dandelions.

is going to hold my head
down under the water again
or lock my feet in chains
or act just like a friend
or push me through my pains

No one
is going to blind me
with their light
or step on me like an ant
or tell me no, "I can't"

No one
is going to bully me
or cut me with their speech
or put me on a leash

No one
is going to break
the broken pieces
strewn on my dresser
to make this Mona Lisa's
smile a little lesser

No one
is that high
or infallible themselves
I only have one life
I'm going to live for myself

have consumed me far
too long. They’ve taken on
a life of their own. Not anymore! I’m
sick of mindlessly going along

with them when I know
they’re wrong for me. They made
me fat. They made me
dependent on them. They acted

as my friend. In times of need
they were the only thing there. The devil  
in a blue suit with a cherry in his tooth
greeted me when I came home every day,

would throw a bone my way. And I was
depressed and stupid enough to chase it. But now
I’m giving it back. I’m no longer going to
be the devil’s snack.

he'll hang me out to dry.
he'll tell another of his lies.
I weep inside my broken hands.
I ever make further plans.
I'll toss and tun, sweating at night.
I'll hold back from a red flag fight.
my voice falls on deaf ears.
my head swims in past years.
I'm second-rate.
I'm gonna wait.

It's the first
putting myself first.
It's worst
placing myself last.
Even if I'm an outcast.

as if I’m stairs caked in ice
someone didn’t shovel
as if I’m a schoolgirl
going for detention for making trouble
as if I’m a herniated disk
bearing pain
or pretty in pink when
you’re laid-off again
and I'd slip out of it
as if I'm an undergarment
you pull on after the pantyhose
but I haven't

of hollow bodies with no souls
heartless men in mocked-up roles
It’s hard to take a cleansing breath
the fact of this life's death
of war, surfeit, and poverty
sickness and countries under seize
polluted beaches and acid rain
every day is filled with pain
closed minds and deaf ears
blind eyes and lost tears
hands clenched in rageful fists
drug dealers and slashed wrists
underage *** and violence
cut my tongue
have me silenced
but I can't face another day
swimming in this sea of pain

is so aberrantly broken
he's choken on his
words. His life is a blur
of ****** sunrises and murky

sunsets, of icy showers of soap and
umbrellas. He’s been beaten and
jammed into dark cellars, crammed
into tight spaces. He cannot tie

his shoelaces. He cannot write
his name. They try to tame him
with drugs, his mother with kisses
and hugs. But his brain is

unwired. The lawyers and doctors
she hired could not do a thing. Like
all the king's horses and men
his pieces one cannot mend.

because on the other side’
you can’t hide in your own flesh
Nothing’s left

Why you’re here
don’t you think it’s better to come out
before you go under

on my heart
big as a train
with track marks
every night I hear
the squeal of wheels
the bells and whistles
the smell of heavy black smoke
exhausted through the stack
of  many hours awake
lying on my back

puff puff puff
chug chug chug
rhythmically tugging
at my heart
the stain's on the window
yellow as cornmeal
wiping my hand over it
I pick up the grit
spit in disdain
and all my juices
the oils, the bloods
turn to suds
and drain

She’s pretty
when she’s not crying
She’s sweet
when she’s complying
She’s lovely
when she sits quietly
She’s perfect
Not entirely
And when’s she’s not
You send her off

there are many holes in me
and I bleed out tears easily

through red-drawn eyes
that disguise themselves in

blue shadow and raven wing
that drop down as spaghetti

and this thing in my chest
is now a machete

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

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

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

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

our separations felt –
like someone took a vacuum
and ****** the air out
no different than it is now

I remember how
it was when the magic was lost –
like a little girl at Disney World
who can’t find her mother in the crowd
no different than it is now

I remember how
I couldn’t sleep –
that if I did, I’d awake
and it be a dream
the only difference now is –
it is

everything, like my cat. I'm looking
for someone to scratch my back. I want to
leave my impression  on  them. But it is
the shape of a hand, and the color red -

like a slap on the face. Well, better their
face then mine. But even that brutality wears
off over time. I'm just going to molt. And they can
save my casing to pack what I had into it -

as a sausage link. And tie a knot
at the end. They get so repulsed. It's like
I'm leaving my ***** on the leg of the
couch. So, they open the window -

to air the rancid smell out. I've cough up
enough fur hairballs in my time that if I glued
them together they'd make  a sabretooth
tiger. There's a lot of interesting pieces entangled

between the ***** and spit. Even with the shards
poking out like ****** looking for something to
insert themselves into -
I see them wise and beautiful!

reads me then I sell no books
all my hard work of scratching my ***
and feeling hurt over remaining in
the shadows of someone’s light
always straining to achieve something
that at least for me, seems out of sight

If no one watches my videos
then I’ll never get a second look
I ostentatiously display the **** –
a little overcooked
the ****** is more open to them
they’d rather get their sticky fingers in it
than any book

If no one bothers to listen
then I’ll be lonelier still
and that’s a hell of a lot of emptiness
to fill
If you don’t answer when I call
Oh, death come find me
once and for all

like a ball of yarn
that goes on
without a stitch
never becomes a sweater
just a line
that gets hooked on
whatever it finds
gets tangled
by the black feline
made into a web
of bitterness
someone took the string
that was neatly tucked in
and let out
all this
and it rolls
itself
in emptiness
unhitched
find the end
if you can
and pull
and pull
and pull again

as a pancake,
somersaulting high in the air
an acrobatic made of eggs, milk and flour.
Scared the sleeping, curled up cat,
lying on the kitchen chair.
Falling flat into a frying pan of sizzling butter,
Plumping himself.
bumping against the sides
filling the whole bottom.
Gold as the leaves in autumn.
Shining as the sun,
but none to turn him.
He burned from outside in.

As she cut into him
the gold turned black,
sticking as plague to her teeth.
Charred as ash underneath.
No honey, cream or syrup
could deter it.
And even if it could
she'd not prefer it.

Not contingent on this
Not contingent on that
The fact is this
I’m a one-woman act

Doesn’t rely on this
Doesn’t rely on that
The fact is this
Me, myself and I signed the pact

in the washer
tossed with the coloreds. Pure as
driven snowflakes was I! Sweet
as ma's apple pie. Then bra's

snapped their straps
at me. The dungarees wrapped
their denim long legs around
me. The red thong bled its crimson so,

I was no longer as the ******
snow. I wrinkled in a mess of pa's
stiff cornflower shirts ma had
pressed. Mangled in sheets and

sweaters. Drowning in suds. The rocking
back and forth of this washer with
a thud. I flew out of the machine painted pink,
blue and green. I shrunk down a size or

two. I didn't fit. So, I was kept in the closet
down the hall to wipe the walls and
tabletops/ an old dust cloth. Till I grew moldy
and black. Then they threw me in the trash.

Words travel like hungry children
wanting something to fill the hole.
But as they intrepidly reach out
they get stones inside their bowl.

They paint them red to look like berries.
And laying low inside the heath
they boast about their scrumptious treat.
Until they take a bite and break their teeth.

on a silver platter
with a sprig of time
and a wedge of lime. Some

have soured. Some have
burned. Coating cloaks
the cracks in a sheen of

spinach green. But underneath
it crumbles. He bumbled
the whole thing from cutting

the strings of the braciole. Like Holly
to the cat. I lay flat on my back.
Growing lean from eating his

words. I've cleaned up
serving hors d'oeuvres.

in azure
so, they look flashier
than Christmas tree lights.
You stretch and pull
and pencil in
to make them go
with your wide-tooth grin.

You bat them at men.
Those half nut flutters
look like an old quill pen.
Yet they don’t disguise
your anguish and your pain.
You’re a prize –
in this lonely/solo charade.

They pay money
because they love
hairy honey.
They ******* to it.
But no one reads –
when they’re spilling seeds
or looks deep
into the circle of hazel.
But my, oh my
sure, are quick
with the appraisal.

when I talk to you –
as if you’ve things

to do. Look at me as if I count
as the numbers on

the wall. Or don’t look
at me at all!

You can’t put on a light
and call it the sun.
You’ll never get warmed by a switch

You can’t put out your arms
and think you’ll fly.
You’ll never get wings by a wish.

You can’t paint up your eyes
if you’ve been crying.
You’ll never be happy by exterior coating.

Some days
no matter how hard you try
nothing is coming.

Don’t force it to happen.
Soon you’ll be dancing
when you realize that
nothing stays forever the same exact way
even if forever seems like years –
it will change

for free. He painted sunsets. He
painted trees, rainbows, and
sparkling seas. The colors all

blinding. Dancing in the shadows of
velvet green.  Sliding on the lure of his
sheen. As a babe to the breast, pulling west

to wean. But arid as a desert without
the mother ****. And still wearing
the papery hull on this husk of wheat.

We’ve been over forever and a day.
There comes a time in someone’s life
when they can no longer stay,
when goodbye’s the only way.

And still, I think of you -
On rainy evenings when the sky’s grey
and the thunder claps in applause
for what was.

Those crazy nights lying awake
counting the lightening striking
wondering -

Do you think of me?
Do you hold me close in a memory?
On this rainy night
is someone holding you?
Will she become a memory too?

I want to face this
like a cut-up onion
Layer by layer
till my tears grow bunions

You can bite them off
and swallow them down
with an afterthought
in the shade of brown

We might dispel
all falsehoods yet
Us Geritols
can break out a sweat

for the way
I am.
No apologies
either.
Take it
or leave it.
What you see
is my vision.
You’re going to
be baffled
rattled
and disjointed.
I’m jumbled up
wires of complexity
that you’ll never
untangle with certainty.
I hope my dexterity
shocks you
out of your reality
or into it –
if you’re just lying
on the surface.

is that the psychologist that is supposed
to help you is more ****** up than you are,
has a far more fragile ego.
I’ve had it with this treatment
of going to people who should be in their
own treatment.
How can they help anyone else
when they can’t even help themselves?
He didn’t like my poem –
Said I had no right assessing his life
The other one said she didn’t take borderlines
Fine, I am done –
with each and every one!!!!

my dear. It flows slow
and smooth. It’s gold
and mixes well. You wouldn’t
want vinegar in your tea. It’s tang

cuts the tongue. Think about when
you were young. You hated taking
your medicine. You’d pinch your nose
and close your eyes. And pray it goes

down quick. I don’t want you
to be like that with me. Make it
easy to be near you. No assault that
would fear you. Just a note of

song remembered long,
until we meet again. The amber
treat is a spring under your
feet.

You can travel many continents
Gaze at many stars
You can search the whole world over
But you don’t have to go that far
because what you need
is here in your back yard

You can look at travel brochures
Read about great adventures
in many of your books
But you’ll never find love until you look
in the eyes of the woman who loves you

sweep the room with me -
I’m stiff as the broom

dust the furniture with me -
You’ll collect a lot of ****

mop the floor with me -
There could be something
in this debris

with a painted map of how he did
her wrong. As the wind blows
don’t stand too close, she’ll eat you
with her prongs. With her red

fiery lips she grips men
like a fountain pen, squeezing out
their blood like ink. In a wink a floating
alphabet soup she groups into leather

bound books and sells. Every man’s a piece
of driftwood triggered from her childhood. With
the hairy lashes, she flashes she bashes them
to kingdom come.