in early spring
as robins sing and
roses bloom. He spread over
me as sweet perfume.

He came to me
in late July
rising as the ocean tide,
azure as a crystal sky
swinging as a hammock
tied to the trees
the kiss of death
between my knees

He came to me
in mid-autumn
as hit rock bottom
as the crimson and gold
grew old
as I saw it all fall
billowing in large dust *****

He came to me
in winter
as I broke apart
and splintered
as I wept icicles
cutting my face
as I froze
standing in place

I'm not the earth. I refuse
to revolve around you. You're not
my father. I'm not your daughter. I refuse
to listen to your orders. You're not

the sea. I'm not the shore. I don't
have to put up with you crashing in
and dashing out. For a while, I was the grass
and you the mower. You passed over me

cutting me lower. But I grew like
a ****. You're the squash. But I'm
the seed. You may burst into

color. You're a leaf. You're
yellow. You'll break
off. But I'll still stand. I'm the tree,
surrounded by fallen leaves.

is drawn on
with a lipstick crayon
of crimson red
making pretty
when things are ******
but it doesn't stick -

snuffed out like the light
in a wick as the wind blows
rise in the morn
tattered and torn
check off the boxes
smile at the foxes in boots
and suits

what breaks the cycle?
drinks are the substitute
for masking the pain
the mascara runs down
my face in a river of rain

next morn
draw the same smile on
with a pink crayon
don the chiffon sweetheart dress
smile that smile
and egress

turning from the brightest green
to crimson rose. Breaking off and
blowing in the purple wind, spinning like
a **** on a weathervane. Following the flock,

chasing every Jane. Billowing in gusts
carried by the river. Smelling as musk,
thick as fatty liver. I trust none
of them. Chivalry is lost. Where are the

gentlemen? I'm happy to lose my head
reading a book than giving head to the sort
with dashing looks. Remember December,
after the bloom as trees lose their color

standing naked in their squalor. Their
gnarly limbs hung restless. Splintered now
and breathless. After the fall they all leave,
sneaking past us in a breeze.

a lot of life
on you. Days that should have
been uplifting/spent drifting. Nights
I should have been sleeping

spent weeping. Winters I should
have run spent cloaked as
a nun. June's I should have
bloomed spent locked up

in my room. Years only shrink
as I drown in my drink. I wasted
my youth stuck to you as a rickety
tooth. I couldn't bite down on

on a thing. I lost my spring. My colors
bled out, crimson and gold like
the leaves in autumn.  Suspended as
a *******, I swing in the air as a tuft of hair.

breathe
in the salty air
the spray of the ocean
wetting your hair

the crash of the waves
like a lion's roar
the azure horizon
stretching beyond the shore

the wet cool sand between
your toes
the gulls circling
above your nose

the serenity of a breeze
tingling your spine
the glow of the golden sunshine
pearly cockles in marmalade

I’d trade everything for a day
as this
the foam of the sea
lapping my lips
like a sweet beer kiss

the sun rose up
at dawn. The robin sang
her song. The grass grew
an inch or two. The daffodils

bloomed their flowering
heads. And the roses stood
bright red. The azure sky winked
at me as I passed by. And the trees

were fruit baskets of golden
delicious apples. Butterflies danced
in honey fields. Bunnies pranced
and did cartwheels! I wasn’t

so spry myself. But as the day
stretched out I saw a curve around
my mouth turn into a smile. And so,
life is worthwhile.

the ground that I
was walking, turning over,
breaking up everything
in my path. Knocking over

the flowers with his
wrath. Pulling on the roots,
the baby green leaf
shoots. His rollerblades

smashing me as a pin-
ball arcade against my walls,
through the screams and
squalls. I gave birth to his

broken earth. As the sun
set the crimson sky wept this
broken ground wet. Thank you
Mr. Miller, the machine-man tiller.

as the golden leaves
of autumn. You broke
free of the tree and hit

bottom. You splintered
from the cold brisk breeze
of winter. Even as

the robin sings
you couldn't bloom
in the spring. You, the dusk

demesnes of the night
lost all trickling light.  And as
the loon lays her eggs in June
all you laid were women in ruin.

my world. How many
pounds? How many girls?
How many views? And the stocks –
I’m locked on numbers. They rise

and they fall. I crawl out
of my skin staring at numbers –
wages, gas prices, and taxes.
To relax is not to look. But I’m

Hooked! On a scale of one
through ten how do you rate
this poem?

He loved me
until he didn't.
I was diverting
until I wasn't.

This was a novelty
until it wore off.
He built me up
until he tore me down.
He was at home
until he wasn't around.

I was his shadow
until I wasn't me any longer.
I was in pain
until I grew stronger.

under October snow
lone and cold/dark and old
I rose

pushing my petals out
beneath the frost. Asking if
the sun is lost. The sky is grey
as nanna’s hair. Fatter than her

*****/sitting square. A child’s
breath hangs circling the air in billowing
clouds of apples and pears. I dance

and bring the morning rain. The sun
paints a crimson stain in the late
afternoon. I’ll rise again in early June.

as the bees to the flower
but your nectar turned sour
as the birds to the sky
but you clipped my wings
so, I couldn’t fly

I looked up to you
as a rainbow
after the shower
but you're just a crow
dropping bombs
on my ivory tower

I looked up to you
as an owl to the moon
but you're just a dish
that ran away with the spoon

an overlay, a coating
a charade. A colorful float
in the parade laid in metallic
and balloons. You’re a caricature,

a cartoon. You’re not
solid. You’re plated. You’re
created to tarnish. You’re the garnish,
not the meal. You’re the spoke

not the wheel. Both men and
women see you as a saint. But I see
you as you are -
a flake, a chip of paint.

burning in the rubble. It’s
hindering. All I do
is struggle. I’m smoldering

underneath the red rocks. It’s
sobering hitting my head against
the blocks. Once on fire,

higher than a kite, brighter
than a lighter. But grey as ashes
now, taken all the lashes

from hands of men taken
vows. They choked me
as they smoked me. Then

they did the same again. I ended
up as billowing dust in the wind.

you. Time stands still,
still as the lady
holding the torch
in New York harbor. Still as
the red and blue pole
outside of the barber.

There’s no getting over
the pain. The color is ****** out
as a bleach stain. Bent as a willow
sweeping the ground. Stuck as
a dog locked in the pound. 

There's no getting over
the past. It passed through
as a high-speed train,
with the windows pushed up
letting in the rain.

There's no getting over
this ****, sitting as a lump
in the throat. There's no jumping
over this moat.

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!

stands without soil
or water. Not seeded
so, you don't have to
bother. Wasn’t part

of the garden. The petals
aren’t soft. They're hardened.
But they don't droop or
wilt. And you'll not see them

tilt. They cannot flower
or drink in a cool
sun shower. They don't
bend. And are translucent

as a summer friend. The light
shines through the
glass. No thorns at every
pass. They hold their shape

and color. Won't rip just
like a dollar.  Some say
they're fake. But they don’t die.
They break.

a blight, a deformity,
a disease. And blew me off
in a sneeze.

He called me
a runt, pariah of
the litter. And ate me up
like a meat fritter.

He called me
every day
at the beginning. But his
ardor started thinning.

I called him
on it. He threw
a fit. Tied tighter than
a bonnet under his chin
I’d no place to begin.

stranger than I've ever
seen. The years fly by as magnetic
flies sticking to the window screen. I close
my eyes and pretend it's all a dream. I shun

this dream under restless
pillows. My head heaves in heavy
billows. The emerald green has turned
to rust. The men are lean and filled

with lust. Every turn of the calendar
brings with it more lies. Every year erases
more and more ties.  This world is flat. I fell off
the horizon. Men travel in herds just like

the bison. Now my days are floating
on clouds in skies of marmalade. My wings
providing me the shade. And balk as men clang
and wade catching up on hit parades.

were supposed to shape
***** this girl of youth. Blinded her of
truth. The hands that should have
held, sing lullabies and quell

were batons wearing ripped
nylons.  Not clapping to cheer, but slapping
with a jeer. So many hands that should
dance the night turned eagle and

took flight. The hands that should
have carried their weight only dangled
as bait. Growing hooked on hands
that shook with pointed fingers that

she wrapped around and lingered. So many
hands knocking her down, wrecking *****
with the faces of a clown. Hands that clenched
in fists of rage punching through

every stage. Turning this girl to vapor,
till she took hands to paper. Now the world
can read so many hands she has ****.

follow as a sheep? I should
have been a lion. Afraid to make
a peep. Should have built up
a Zion.

Why did I
weep over men that strung
me as beads on a string? I should
have been a diamond, a solitary stone -
a bright azure island.

Why did I
wilt in the garden? They tilt
the sun from the place I was
lying. Cloaked in shade I was
dying. I should have been flying
in the wind. Should have grown me
a pair of wings.

Why did I
wait till now? Why did
I stand in my ivory tower looking out
at a world I can devour. Creamed
as the chowder I cannot flower.

the sunflowers droop
their golden heads, shedding their
silky petals. Life’s a simmering kettle
kept on the stove. Why do women

settle for weeds, and not hold out
to flower? Why is the sun playing hide
and seek? And the moon can't turn the other
cheek? The grass has turned to straw. Winter's

only splintered and not a thing
has thawed! I look out at the day as
a rerun, just like the men. I swear they're all
spun from the same reel. Where are the men

of steel? Have they all run off
the horizon?  No surprise then that I'm
solitary and bury my head in my poetry. Not like
my clothes, it fits me. I take the pen over

the rose. Spilled ink over thorns. I don't shrink
as I do in prose.  It's my link to the world and grows.

my hair. It fell
in clumps all over my
chair. I lost my sleep. I spent
last night counting sheep. I lost

the little money I had. I spent
it on every fad. I lost my looks,
lost track of time. Once I said
this world is mine. I lost my voice

from years of screaming/losing my head
from years of dreaming. I lost my nerve -
but didn't let up. Lost my friends that didn't
deserve me. Men move on. Time doesn't

stall. Even the trees lose their leaves
in fall. I lost my youth walking the hills of
old Duluth.  But I found still some room
to break new ground!

at a rose again
without scorn
the silky soft petals
grow thorns

I'll not look
at the sun again
I’ve burned
basking in the glow of the light
till sadly spurned

I'll not look
at a crystal snowflake
cascading from the sky
this light fluff
turns to mountains high

I'll not look
at a cherry again
I've choked on the pit
hidden underneath  
a plump red carpet

like a beef and bean burrito
till you drew blood like
a mosquito. So, wrapped up
as a babe swaddled, till the years

with you dawdled. Wrapped
as a caterpillar in her chrysalis, I didn't
emerge as a butterfly. I was stricken
with syphilis. I couldn't wrap my head

around all of this. His sweet kisses
turned into hisses. I was wrapped as
a broken arm in a sling. I couldn't move
in this self-effacing fling. So, I cut

the appendage. And I hung back
suspended. Now I'm more like a dowel
than a wet paper towel.

in smiles and flattery. But he's
just a placebo with a medical  
degree.

He dresses to ****
in tight dungarees, wearing
a five-o'clock shadow and Cartier
shades. He throws you a look, hiding the ace
of spades.

He dresses to ****
a flaming red rocket. You didn't
see the fuel in his trouser pocket. All you
could see was the picture in your locket.

He dresses to ****
in snakeskin boots, a Mr. Hyde. But to
the world outside, he's a white coat that loots
women as his prize.

he holds up for me
just like orange, red and
gold leaves. They're looking full of
color till they turn squalor. Then breaking

from the trees drift in a breeze. He's wiped
me off as a sneeze. The built-up he couldn't
resist, a tickle that had to persist. The poem

with a twist. The mask didn't fit. He wore
it snug, a burden for him to lug. Years of  
billowing dust turned the diamonds to rust.

I am splintered. I've lived through
many cold, dark winters. I’m shattered
into bits. Some of my chips
have turned to dust/swept up

in a storm. Thrown out to sea
in a kaleidoscope of blue and
green. I'm a broken mirror. I can't see
clearer through the cracks. I've stopped
counting all the hacks. Hold your hands

into a cup. Build my shattered pieces
up. They'll shine into a swirling mosaic, like
a painting Da Vinci created. Blood red and orange
makes the sonance. I'm a million misshaped

parts that can turn into a work
of art in gifted hands that sees every piece
as a pearl. And strands a golden chain
through the holes. But does not claim it as his own.

made me sour,
not flower. Once, a rose
garden, but like the ground
in winter I hardened.

Your love
made me curdle,
not fertile. Cut
to a stump,
a place a man
plumps down
his ****, a farce!

Your love
made me whittle. I turned
brittle and cracked. Now I'm
half of a woman. Not silky,
but woolen.

Your love
turned me spastic. Stretched me out
as an elastic I lost all my shape. I stand flat
as a crepe.

a lemon chiffon
but as time went on
you grew sour
every drop I squeezed ****
no more a la carte’

I thought you were
a sunflower
a golden bright tower
but you were only a dandelion
killing the grass
I was lying on

I thought you were
a red and orange butterfly
gifting me with wings to fly
but you were sadly a moth
that flew off

an inked spot
surreptitiously hung
a birthmark
copiously sprung
black smoke
filling up my lungs

I'm every song unsung
He's cut off the top
of my tongue
I grow back as stubble
till he doubles his precision
not as I envisioned
stepping on me
climbing the rungs

be a petal? Why
settle. Be the rose
and flower in the sun
every hour till the day
is done.

Why
be a seagull? You can be
an eagle and soar heights
higher than the storm! Don’t live
life only as the norm.

Why
be a crumb on a man's
plate? Be a buffet! Line the table in colorful
savory trays!

Why
be a bubbling brook? You're a mother sea,
with a whole life swimming inside
you. You have the moon to guide
you.

Why
be an anthill? They'll only step
over you. Be a mountain against
the crimson sky. Rise with every step
you take. None can break you! You're
the woman that makes you!

once as supper
like swallowing an upper
like a snort of *******
hits straight to the brain!

Love me
twice as windshield wipers
back and forth
you take south/I'll take north.

Love me
thrice as a triangle
we'll tangle with another
then we'll swap -
with her on top.

Love me
quarce is a farce! To go on
like this I'd miss work. I'd miss
my friends and the news at ten. You
only die once! But not I -
La petite mort
screams and sighs

as if you're a pimple. Don't
pick at it. Don't cover it up with
a lot of "make-up". Smile so women
can see your teeth. Don't put all your

thoughts on a red-hot spot
growing beneath your face. Not moving,
taking little space. She didn't
sneeze on you or drool. She didn't tear

up in a weeping pool. In a few weeks,
she'll vanish. And you'll forget her like
you did your Spanish.

that I ignored
stood out
like the crimson cape
of the matador. And every

sword
he flung -
I ignored the
barbed edge

that stung.  I charged
ahead as I bled. Was it
pomp and circumstance
that led me to

this deadly dance? Was it
brawn that made me
float just like a swan? And as he
took a bow, standing straight

for the crowd
of his fellow men
was it I that then
saw the flag
raised again?

at another man’s mercy. Made
broken and little. Whittled as a piece
of wood. Splintered, as
my childhood.

I won’t be
condescended from some
man, that’s upended. No crotch
can ever cut me down
a notch.

I won't be
a glittering trophy displayed as
a float in a parade. A silky gold
toupee to cover a man's fat head. I'd
be better off dead!

I won't be
blind again, by the lies
of colorful men. Actors on a stage
till their next rampage.

in his eyes. A thousand years and
a thousand tears I have shed. Now
my face has ballooned like a big
waterbed. You can say I'm the walking

dead. I was once alive, a flying
butterfly. He broke me out of my
cocoon and sent me straight to
the moon. Left me to orbit

in space. I'm lost in this galaxy. He
dropped the chase.  No longer covered
in stardust. My silky wings turned
to rust. The violet has tarnished. I'm burnt-

orange. I don't reflect the sun. I cannot
move. I'm numb. I see women flutter, as I once did
before my head was cluttered with overgrown
weeds. I'm not flowering. I've run to seed.

for lines anymore. Once I
clung to them, walking the tight
rope. Man was I a dope! Spooling
piece of thread.  Till I strangled myself
as it wrapped around my head.

I don't fall
for bodies anymore. Buffed
six-packs and lean. They're not
real. They're all machines! No flab
or cellulite. And all their clothes fit
tight. I've parted with men looking like
they walked off the red carpet. Their egos
fill the room like smoky fumes.

I don't fall
for degrees anymore. Hanging on the wall
with emblems in gold. If I must carry
a dictionary as we speak bury me
in a week!

I don't fall
for money anymore. Sports cars
driving at dizzying speeds. Custom-made
suits made of silky tweed. Houses so large
I must carry a map, or I'm lost as I
proceed.

I don't fall
for chemistry, buckling knees,
or floating butterflies in my
stomach. They only make me
plummet. Walking around like a zombie
I can't see straight ahead of me.

I rise
now I see with both my eyes!

of something in my past
something that didn’t last
but something that has a hold
something that’s now old

It's only a memory
that eludes my sleep
making me weep
filling my head
burning bright red

It's only a memory
wafting through the air
like grandma’s apple pie
on the windowsill
attracting flies

It's only a memory
no longer real
but still turning like a wheel
a windmill spinning round
of flashing light, and  
whipping sound

as perfume after an evening
out on the town. It's not just a mist
that dries on silky skin. No, it should
absorb. It should sink in.

This shouldn’t wear off
as the excitement from a little girl
or boy that’s played with a new
toy. No, it’s not a novelty. This thing
has a history. 

This shouldn't wear off
as a plated ring that flakes
in pieces and tarnishes, losing
the shine. This is hot as
the sun and solid as gold. And it won't
run as you grow old.

This shouldn't wear off
as sleep after a cup of coffee or
a cold shower in the morning. You can't
wash it off like dirt with soap and
a cloth. You can't wipe it clean like
a stain on a tray. If it's real, it's here
to stay.

I’m the infant that steadily
sleeps. And only flutters her eyes
when she's all set to eat. I’m also the baby
that creeps around the house. And

the toddler that bounces with
energy like Mickey mouse on
a trampoline. I’m the young girl with big
dreams, dancing on stardust and

moonbeams. But I’m also
the indolent teenager that flirts
with the boys and is punished for
my vitriolic behavior. I'm the woman

standing on the train in stilettos
riding to the office. Making plans for
vacation. Pushing papers all week till
the weekend when I can

hit the beach. I'm the same woman
that now carries an infant
in her womb. And buys a house
with larger rooms and a backyard with
a swing and slide. Two fury kittens

inside. And I see fluttering eyes
looking at me, creeping around the house
with energy like Mickey mouse, that flirt with
girls and takes trains. And so too, have dreams,
just not the same.

by men that held the door
for me. Now walked out of it when I
was down.  The men that held me
in their arms now hold me in

contempt. I’m spent as a ******,
after it's used.  Cupid has me
confused! The same satin smile
that sang lullabies is now making up

alibis.  I'll not chase butterflies
painted in satin lies. Men
muscular and handsome come with
a high-price ransom. And I've paid it

with my life, weeping
days and sleepless nights. Found myself
full throttle, floating in the bottom
of a bottle. Sparkling eyes that looked

with reverie now cut right through me. Hands
that cupped my face now slap it. I gave up
the chase!

of passenger cars rides
around. Going up/going down. The heights
are dizzying. The ground is flat. And ***** as
a city rat. When I’m on top, the world

is little. I can pluck it like the strings
of a fiddle. But it's just a mirage of painted red
and purple stars. We're only at odds living
in moving pods.

twists upside down
the second I turn around. His waterfall
hardens to glass as I pass. Something was
missing when his song

spit out like hissing. His azure eyes,
a badger. Underneath his silky sheath
of dress was armor. His teeth white as pearls
cut the hearts of little girls. And still, I stood

at his side, waiting for
the tide to wash over me in a sea
green canopy. But I drowned in the foam
I swore was my home.

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!

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

living inside my shell
living in this hell
moving slowly
seeing everyone pass me

still traveling the same road
carrying this heavy load
but moving toward my dreams

no windows or doors
holes in my floors
ground scorching heat
burning the soles of my feet

the journey is long
gotta hold strong
when all you pack
is riding on your back

skies and trees
lakes, rivers, and countries.
Stars, moons, and sun. Something
for everyone. Jungles, forests

and blooming gardens. Mountains
deserts and crystal waterfalls. Buildings over
a thousand feet tall. You can't see it
all in a lifetime. I'm drunk on it

as if it was moonshine. Have the eyes
of a child. Look at a butterfly and
smile. Hot as a chili pepper. Swing as
a dance hall stepper. Don’t sit as bump

on a log or bellow as an old
bullfrog. The colors are golden and
crimson. Unlock the door of your
prison!

goes round and round,
a conveyor belt. As sweat
melts off every man and
woman standing bored out of

their skulls, homing in as
a flock of gulls. Mashed together
as broken shells around this
carousel. And waiting. Baby screaming

out her lungs. Boy sticking out
his tongue. And the colors swirl, gold
red, blue, and purple, a Van Gogh
painting. And waiting.