Was it you spinning vinyl
In that 3rd floor apartment in New York
Walls close, a small space
You’re wrapped up in my sweater
And singing songs I knew once
To her and her angel face
While leaves paint the pavement outside

Or was it you shouting
In that rally on the streets of suburbia
Last fall, the rain fell forever
But you were brave wrapped in my sweater
Chanting with the big crowd
The air smelled like kettle corn
And the people on the street sides cheered

It couldn’t have been you
On the cold bathroom floor in Seattle
Cold sweats, pupils dilated
My sweater pulled over your sequin dress
Vinyl record song
                Skipping
                Skipping
                Skipping
                in the background
How you looked like disco ball
Shattered on the floor that day

It may have been you buying coffee
Across the taxi tracks in Brooklyn
Americano, extra shot
The city bubbling over like shaken soda
Smiling like the day I gave you that sweater
Broken as the disco ball on the floor
Spinning the vinyl I bought you in suburbia

Mama said there’s no more
cowboys in the west
Just lizard men
with monsters on their chest
No more southern belles
just slimy sugar snakes
Smearing their lips with fish scales
to taste like cake

Mama said there’s no more
cowboys to ride into the dawn
Just scattered limbs passed out
in the front lawn
No cupcake women
hosting great soirées
Just frightened deer
that stare into the grey

I wish I saw myself clearly
In these black mirrors
Through which I see the world
Through which the world sees “me”
Everyone walks around with these

My big sister bleeds on the glass
Of her black mirror
Cutting the corners of her curves
To fit inside the black mirror
Children walk around with these

My brothers put drugs on the surface
Of black mirrors
Noses high in the air from the reflection
In the black mirror
I walk around with these



[ I believe the fruit on the tree
Of Adam and Eve
May have been an Apple ]

They are spearheads
The trees, stewsters in the Grey
On Somber window.

If you are war,
Then I am peace.
If you are coffee,
Then I am cream
Love is sugar,
It makes us sweet.

When you are down,
I would dive to catch you.
If you heart crashes,
And breaks into pieces,
Then I would glue them altogether
Even if it takes time.

When the sun rises up,
All because of your smile’s trace
The roses would blossom
As the light colors your face
I would be purely happy
As you are,  too.

No matter how busy I could be,
I wanted to tell you,
“You are the one I value the most.”
Do not worry about me, I’m fine.
My pain does not matter much to me anyway.
It would be always for you.

Just wanting to give you something
Receive and keep it for me, love.
My heart is like the shining sun,
But my love for you
Reaches the ends of the universe.


These are the little things
You do for  love.

What if girls stopped painting their faces,
and painted canvases instead?
Imagine!
Picasso as a 21st century woman.
Painting bird wings on her head.

Two faces and no spine.
How unusual that would be!

What if girls stopped painting their faces,
and painted canvases instead?
What now?
Warhol as a 21st century woman.
Bright pink hair on her head.

Repeated images on a screen.
How unusual that would be!

Eating out my bowl
I wipe my heart on the sleeve
with phlegm and oils.

I think I enjoy the pastel colors
That rest upon the wall.
Just floating in soft ease
With colors not too bright.

Sometimes I think
If I was a color,
I would be much too dark
And seldom used
Because of the own
Hue I came acquired to
Through all my experience.

Just painting my whole life thus far
Would seem a waste... I think.
But being so unsaturated seems boring.
I think I enjoy the shades I've mixed
Met, and laughed along with
Even if I doubt it.