begging for paper crumbs
and then becomes
smaller upon the feast.
This woman's a beast.

Never that girl
spreading her petals  
and then settles for less.
This woman stands for success.

Never that girl
weeping over him
climbing out on a limb.
Not ever seen.
This woman's a queen.

Never that girl
broken in pieces,
flushed down as faeces.
As the Pheonix she'll rise.
This woman's a prize.

But I'm not over it. I'm on
top of it. It took sixteen years
to reach the summit from climbing

on my tears with threadbare
shoes. I was born to lose. The air
up here is thin, wrinkling all my

skin. I don't have a flag, marking I
was here. All I have is a head full
of yesterday. And I've become

the prey. I spy an eagle flying. Jump to
hitch a ride. I glide like I have wings. But I
can't even fly, even as I cut the strings.

of my love it fit you like
a velvet glove, molded to your
leather hand, wrapped around
your fingers like a rubber band, cutting off
your circulation. You'd be growing
a new mutation.

If you held a drop
of my pain it crush you like
a freight train. You'd be cut off from
the wrist. Your veins hanging
into a gnarly twist.

If you held a drop
of my sweat, a tiny pearl
be a threat. It burn a hole inside
your palm as if someone dropped
an hydrogen bomb.

If you held a drop
of my tears, for all the years
I wept inside my hands you'd fill
the oceans and the seas. I’m not a pluck
of hair you can tweeze.

I looked for you under November snow.
You turned colors like the autumn leaves.
You rolled me up like your shirtsleeves.

Where did you run?
You beat down on me as the August sun.
You burnt me with your amber rays.
Disappeared like a needle in the hay.

Where did you fly?
I saw you in the red-hot sky.
You turned windy as a hurricane.
Spun me around like a weathervane.

Where are you now?
Over the moon with the cow?
Or dishing with the spoon?
While I stand here like a prune!

cooled. So, we fell like a souffle'
left on the counter for a day. We just
collapsed as we relaxed into this. And slurs

replaced a kiss. As this grew stale
we exhaled just like a cough. I choked
on his words. It gave me reflux like

my Gerd. I guess you can say
some men are just bad indigestion. So,
many I've passed -

like gas, Couldn't wait for
them to leave, To clear the air
so I can breathe!

is an illusion.
I can't grasp.
Trying so hard to clasp.
I wore it like a rubber band,
till it cut deep inside my hand.

This life
is a matrix,
playing tricks on me,
a kaleidoscope of energy.

This life
is a show,
a carnival of colored snow,
filling inside a paper cup.
Cheers to you! Bottoms up!

This life
is a trip.
And I'm a blip,
on the movie screen.
Trying so hard to be seen
till the red velvet curtains fall
on this hoax.
"Th-th-th-that's all, folks!"

of harden earth and crowded
weeds, forests and shady trees.
Chipmunks dashing in
and out of her holes. And

scurrying little rat-like moles.
Everywhere are shades of greens,
running brooks and bubbling
streams. The sky is peppered  

with dark grey clouds. And sprinkled
by salty drops of clowns, blowing
their noses in heavy showers. And
an assortment of turtleneck flowers.

You'll be lost in the winding paths of
crimson leaves and robins splashing in teal
birdbaths. Circling till the barn owl shrieks
with her pale rounded cheeks.

and I've many
I've held inside my hand.
Glossy golden copper
is a showstopper. But was I

thinking as Lincoln turned
muddy brown as he was passed
around? It didn't make sense. His worth
is just a cent golden or muddy. But

didn't the boy shine in the windows
of the stores, the drawers and painted doors
I walked through. I've a pocket full of
him I counted out in tens that jingled

in my purse. And with a flip reversed
to tails. I lost my head as I shed my clothes.
A rose in the rubble waiting for someone to
stumble over me. But it was only he.

a distorted facsimile,
falling in a kaleidoscope
of broken colors.
Double vision,

jagged edges.
A collision of
bleeding lovers.
Shattered

You picked her up
and scattered
her pieces,
like droppings

from the gulls
on the beaches. You can't
see her the same again.
You can't fix what is broken.

expecting them to grow
even when they're buried
under the snow. Even as they hang
limp in her hand, even when

their heads are drooping
and colors are bland. She takes them
inside her home. Feeds them sweet
honeycomb. She sings to them

like a starling, coos and awws
and calls them darling. Plants them in
her fertile soil, only to see them
recoil. Day after day the petals fall. She lies

among them, weeps and sprawls. Remembers
the spring when they were lush. The memories
she has of her crush she stores in a drawer
as potpourri. And lives to write and tell the story.

that smiled so sweet,
said hello in church this morning.
I saw storming out of his house,
screaming and swearing at his spouse.

This same man
that sang praise,
raised his fists to his daughter today.
The same three-piece suit
kicked his dog in cowboy boots.

This same man
that leads boy scouts
hits the bars/has a mistress on the side.
And ******'s he has eyed.
The man
I'll call neighbor,
has to be the greatest faker.

This same man
men look up to
and woman fawn all over
is not one bit kosher.

I'm rid of men.
I'd rather have paper and pen.
I'd rather my feet planted on ground.
I don't like my head spinning around.

I'm so glad
I've burst this bubble.
All it did was cause me trouble.
Now my eyes see clear the day.
Now I don't get in my way.

I'm so glad
to sleep so sound.
Not tied/not bound
to some romantic notion.
Not weeping oceans
and drowning on dreams.
Serenity instead of screams.

I'm so glad
I kicked the habit.
All the years I tried to grab it.
Clutching and clawing what wasn't mine
only to find he wasn't worthy of me.
Glad to leave a fading memory.

hand
with fingers interlacing with mine
turn ****** and hammered in no time?
And ivory face
turn brightly redden in place?

How did this
morning
of sunshine, sweet sky
and robins
turn cold and overcast?
and how pray tell, so fast?

How did this
man
who smiled at me
lie through his teeth?
and without pause?
Just because

but when it's mine
it's pungent as turpentine.
I grow restless for more.
But more is less yesterday and

bigger tomorrow when dreams
are all you have to follow. And dreams
are like the weather. They change
once they come together.

as Mr. Magoo, just a Joey
hiding in her kangaroo pouch. It's warm
inside. So, I don't venture out. I couldn't
see the lion coming. I danced to

the sound of a hummingbird humming.
Danger dressed in an Armani suit
and vest. Rode in a black satin
stallion, drinking his posse up

from a gallon. So near-sighted
I tripped over a cloud looking like
a castle from the ground. But my feet were
not in my shoes. My feet were dangling
in a sky of blues. Sweeping me up

in gale, tossing me in a garbage
pail full of rain, that today I lie in. Drinking
the pain. And in this darkness, I see the lion.
But I don't run. And I'm not hiding in the sun.

behind the Cheshire smile,
the starlit eyes
that he is vile.
The colorful guise
he cloaks himself in
doesn't ever wear thin.

No one sees him
as he is
without the cream
and fizz
without the round, plump cherry
sitting on the top
in his house of cards
soda shop.

No one sees him
as I
when he takes off
his face at night
throwing it in his bedroom bureau.
He'll die everyone's hero.

how you leave,
door or window
I won't grieve.

It doesn't matter
how long it takes
weeks or days
just go away!

It doesn't matter
if you tell
ever man or woman
I put you through hell.

It doesn't matter
all the lies
you weave.
All that matters
is you leave!

as the star,
and I the red-carpet. He received
glowing reviews walking with
buckled shoes.

He walked over me
as autumn leaves
swirling around on the ground
crunching the sound of pieces flaking
under his leather soul, breaking into
the wind and the cold.

He walked over me
as the mat lying under
his door, wiping his feet, the dirt
and the grease on. I, the stain hung on.

He walked over me
a memory that he folded and tucked
in his bureau drawer, under his yellowed
hanky and stacks of papers and books,
in the nook. And he didn't gander
a second look, no sir.

the hole in his plans
the broken brakes
his unzippered pants
the teeth didn't line up straight
a couple broke off
he looked like a jack-o'-lantern
wearing socks

I was a mirage
looking like paradise
in his garage
the crash and burn
bones and skull
now he's earned a room in hell

to give. It wasn't
his gold sun shining on blades
of grass. It wasn't his bridge

of rope to pass. It wasn't his
star for kings to follow. It wasn't
his today tomorrow. It wasn't his

moonlight jade. It wasn't his
cloud. So, it wasn't his shade.
It wasn’t his bread and butter.

It wasn’t his
***** or putter. She wasn’t his
to hand to another.

If only I lost my arms
the ape-like pendulums
I'd hold my head high
look him square in the eye
not hold out my hand
and beg for more
of the same thing

If only I lost my legs
two sticks with spider veins
I'd see things in a new way
not run back to him
over and again

But I lost my face
and without a modicum of dignity
I lost everything
I lost me

as the walls caved in
and the ceiling grew mold.
The air is all I've left
to hold.

I stayed with him
as the wind blew cold.
And I froze in place
without a face
to weep or smile
or feet to move me
from the wreckage
of the fallen tiles.

I stayed with him
in the reverie.
Buried, this rose
under the April snow.
Covered it up
till this turned to dust
in the sun.

I left him
with no storm or flurry,
just flew off in a hurry.
Left no note or line,
no handmade script.
I gave no sign
like all the times
I’ve let slipped.

a lot of head space
over him. Recounting every touch,
hanging myself on a memory, swinging
in his clutch. Shrinking inside the silhouette,
smaller than a bead of sweat.

I wasted
so many days in a haze. Weeping
dewdrops, running down my face
in a trickle. Sour
as a pickle floating in a sea
of brine tangled on his fishing line.

I wasted
myself in a bottle of alcohol,
living in this gilded cage, and turning
out page after page every day.

I wasted
my youth
on things that were lies
not truth. Stuck as flies
to paper. This pain does not
ever taper.

a wrinkled blouse inside out
seams and tags sticking out
you can see the fabric and the size
the cycle for washing
labeled on the collar
and the price-tag hangs how many dollars
the colors faded yellow
the buttons on the cuffs are hidden
as the holes and the stitching
looks like she was thrown in a laundry basket
she asked if she could remove port wine stains
sweat and hair and dirt ingrained?

was tighter than an anaconda. He road me
like he did his Honda. I was sugar in
his frying pan. He stoked me till I was

flan. Wiggly on his plate. I couldn't walk
with this wobbly gait. If I didn't break
free I'd break in two. So, I took a shot and wings

I grew. I didn't go far at first. It took months
to widen my berth. But once I hit the air, once
the weight of his stare was history

I saw him clear. With the rose cataracts removed
from my eyes I flew a thousand miles high.

ambition
back when I was a teen
Now my life's mission
is staring at a screen

I used to have
friends
people knocking on my door
this house was a castle
now all it has are creaky floors

I used to have
a waist
my shirts tucked in my pants
now the rolls of fat
are as large as France

I used to have
money in the bank
now I'm broke as hell
with only myself to thank

shut your mouth. You ran over
carcasses that you outwardly flout. Don't throw
stones till you lived in my house! Don't point
fingers when you didn't lend me a hand. If you

wore my shoes you couldn't even stand. I've
walked miles with blisters and bruises. I'll not
listen to what a man's views is. A man eating from
a silver-spoon, a man that is a tycoon has

only clay feet. He parades in suits
on the street past the homeless lady with
the swollen face, past a group of teenagers
of colored race. The only thing swollen on
him is his head and his wallet. The only thing

colored is the stone is his collet.  I call it
a crime to hear him speak, to lift his nose
and say that I'm weak. I'm still moving in tattered
shoes, still climbing even as I'm bruised.

my eyes.
Watered from the guise of men.
Take my ears.
I can't hear the lies
again.

Take away
this mouth.
So tired of talking.
Echo's ricocheting
all spoken.
And the chain of screams
are now broken.

Take away
my shoulders.
I've carried all this weight.
Now that I'm older
I can't stand up straight.
Hunched over,
my face is in my plate.

Take away
my arms,
the fleshy pendulums.
Back and forth they swing,
holding onto nothing.

Take away
my legs.
They're growing spider veins.
They don't move me,
and the feet too!
The bunions don't fit
inside my shoes.

time legs. Drink till you
empty. Now the cup's filled
with dregs. The leak in

the ceiling's only
a drip. The crack in the cup
broke off just a chip. The Ker

plunk is growing louder
than the horns from ships
in the harbor, cutting into the dregs

like shears from the barber. How did
a dewdrop rolling off a golden tile
grow to a baseball pitched

ninety-three miles an hour? How did
the rose porcelain not break in half?
How did it live through this gypsy impact?

is splintered
as icicles in winter
into a million sharp pieces
hanging on the eaves
over my front door

This heart
is heavy
running along me as a levee
stopping the sea of brine
spilling from my eyes

This heart
is static
as the air in my attic
sitting thick as fog
******* tight and flogged

This heart
is plundered
the days numbered
like sleeping through an old movie
guzzling gin and sushi

as a sweater
shrunk in the dryer.
You no longer fit.
You're just a liar.
So, I split.

I outgrew you
as a baby blanket
I'd carry around
till you tore
and colors faded.
I no longer paraded
you in town.

I outgrew you
as cigarettes.
Sick of the sweats.
I kicked the habit.
Jumpy as a rabbit.
You stunk
with smoky breath.
No longer the dance of death.

you've tightly sealed over the years
in the cupboard. You're no mother
Hubbard. And the shelves are filled
with the ranks of all men,

like a chessboard with the king
covered in all his henchmen. It's time
for some spring cleaning. The years
have new meaning. You've sat

with them as a mother hen
on her eggs. Now I beg you to
throw them out the window, as food
for the crows. Dust the shelves of the

cracked shells. Air out the smell
making you sick. Light the candle and burn
down the wick. This is a new year, baby!
Wear the suit and tie, sans the lady.

I'm Covered All in Black

But if you scratch the surface
you'll see all the colors underneath.
As the wax flies off in the hands,
of a lepidopterist I'm a butterfly. And

in the hands of botanist
I'm an orchid. If you were a mother,
I can be your kid if you drew  
a circle for my eyes and head, loops for

ears and nose, a wiggle for a mouth
and a body with some clothes in red
and green and gold. But if you leave me
black then black is all you'll see. If you sit

back and don't look under
me. The colors are all hidden, cloaked in
a black prison. The shapes are yet
to take without a pen or stake.

You, the mountain. But when
I poked holes in you, you spilled out
as a fountain. And the reds all
bled into a pool of liver green that stank

so high and lost the sheen. I couldn't move
myself, bathed in the bath. I couldn't find
my footpath. My skin so wrinkled. The light
dimmed. I lost my twinkle. And my wings,

waterlogged. So, bogged down
the colors caked like make-up on
a clown. I washed them off in the sherry. And
also, ***** just to vary. I couldn't move

the hands of time back to the day
I climbed the mountain with the dizzying
view and threw myself off. I fell. But in the falling
I flew. And in the fluttering my wings lifted me
beyond mountains.

the stretcher nailed
the staples running as tracks
thumbing their way around
a hitchhiker making the rounds
the keys
the wire with slack
no colorful scene
lying flat
divorced from all men
surrounded in darkness
immobile and hooked
covering the cracks
the front is the show
But oh, look at the back

I couldn't see. I,
with my pink tinted glasses
let everything pass as is. I,
in my reverie lived in the shadow
of a memory sieved.

Until today
I couldn't leave. I,
in my cement shoes couldn't
budge. I, in my legs of sludge
needed a nudge.

Until today
I didn't like myself. I,
dwarfed as a bonsai
hung my head on things
he said. Spun in his web of silky
thread.

scooped up in his mesh
of threads, as he swings
his pole. Wings are made

to fly, not fold.  She won't be
smeared on a slide to be magnified
by doctored eye. She's not

a specimen to be analyzed over
and again, by white coated men. He can't
trap her light in a jar, as a firefly

at night. She's a star
burning bright in the onyx
sky. She must breathe, or she'll die.

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?

as an artic blast
through the dank tunnels
of yesterday. Passed over me
as a tsunami. I sank

in his large wave. Passed as bloated
gas through my intestines. He's a bean
that cramped me with indigestion. I'd the runs
for days, weeks and months. He passed

the buck as a Mack truck on
the highway. Pulverizing sweet
meat with dancing eyes, Cheshire
grin and pearly teeth. Passed

every man on
the touchdown. He passed me
in years but not tribulations. Lawyers
passed papers halting all relations.

uncloaked the guise. I wrapped
them in satin ribbons and bows. And so,
they glowed under that shine. But they
were not mine. I painted them in

watercolor memories. But the colors
all ran and left a stain through the purple
misty rain. And I drank that rain in a cup. Drank
it all till I filled up. Floating in the banks of

pain. Rolling down the levee. I'd no
idea yesterday is so heavy. I carried it
on my back.  I unpacked it with my blouse
and skirts, pants and boots for the worse. I've

stuffed in my bedroom drawer. Screamed
at it. I made it an outlaw! I don't dress it like
the turkey. I don't cover it in gravy like the
mashed potatoes. No, yesterday I serve raw -
I thaw it out the night before.

the air till it took off the roof
of his house. He discarded me
like a cigarette **** till I burnt him
from the inside out. He said

his pieces held together by
a string till I cut the string. And they
scattered like the autumn leaves,
like acorns falling from the trees.

He played up
his life in his work
like a painter does with colors
wet on the canvas of
their imaginations. The starry

night in swirls of blue and
gold. He danced so light they called him
twinkle toes. He danced all over me,
but tripped on himself.

as sunlight dims
and skies grey

don't go chasing
rainbows now

they hide themselves
inside the clouds

don't become entranced
as violet, blue and yellow dance

as orange, red and indigo
build a bridge that's faux

you won't find a *** of gold
after the colors slide

if you stare into the sun,
you'll go blind

to toss a match
set a forest ablaze
a moment
can break a child
without praise

A moment
to take a life
driving while drinking
a moment
to say painful things
not thinking

A moment
can make a hand into a fist
a moment
can land a punch
with a twist

A moment
can blow up this world
in a switch
a moment
to end all moments
from a glitch

without the label
or sidewards glances
that he is able
to grow in the purest
as a crystal snowflake
the sunrise over the horizon
a sapling sprouting from the ground

If they'd hear him
without note or sound
with feathered wings
and sturdy bough

If they'd love him
as I do
without measure
as he is
he's a treasure

falling off the table
scraps for the dog
****** up from the vacuum
broken pieces from the man's plate
into his lap
as he stood, they fell straight
the bits stuck to his shoes
made their home inside the grooves
embedded in the nest of zigzag
and swirls they rest
so, this is bottom
walked on as leaves in autumn
he couldn't shake me loose
we didn't have a truce

this Jim, the doctor
a black bearded man sitting across her
the smiling trim guy that mocked her
with notepad laid flat on top his Dockers
even if he was off his rockers

She believed him
this Jim, the clock watcher
she was stuck on him as his TRESemme'
he was stuck on her like tooth decay

She believed him
this Jim, the rogue
he was adept at taking off her clothes
***** *** and dry martinis
sandy beaches and string bikinis

She believed him
this Jim, the liar
like all the women he dated prior
another notch on his bedpost
another crotch that he ghosts

a body to lie on
a walk in the park
something to look at
across the table in the dark
as you devour the smoked salmon
and sip the Pinot Grigio
and in-between bites
talk about the day
and something to nod her head
as if to say, yes
as she fixes her dress
and as you roll up a sleeve
what is next
the dessert menu
then you leave
walking out in the cold
wrapped up like a bear
the only thing to mingle
are two breaths in the air

burning top to bottom
droplets of hot waxen beads
hanging down to his *******
he, a man of books and tweed
golden as the leaves in autumn

his light snuffed out in December
a cold, grey dark cloud
as I remember
I, a woman in the crowd
couldn't hold tight her temper

now left is a puddle cake
and it's growing thin
rutted in a waxy circle I skate
falling and splitting my skin
taut is the ice over the lake
breaking both heart and shin

Every man is a stonewall. It's beneath me
to crawl inside their cracks,
slide as a sliver under the *****.

Talking to the wall is like squatting
in a bathroom stall. Nobody sees
you. And whatever you say is flushed away.

The stone wall surrounds
my house. Growing in the gardens,
blocking my spouse. I don't have

a foothold to climb this mountain of rock
up to the sky. The harness is broken.
The ropes are untied.

in honey and smirks
shiny red circles
whatever the hell works

You dress them
in polka-dots and stripes
sweet short song
whatever's their type

You dress them
in lace and bow
quick footwork
whatever makes 'em go

You dress them
in candle and gaslight
sunup to sundown
with wings so they take flight

You dress them
lies in sprinkles and cream
But I see through the guise
and all your sweet schemes