sublime - le petite poem

he
fire like chili
powder pure
not that damn mixed up tainted Americanized shit

damn, i keep forgetting to post here...

Wednesday, October 18, 2006


wanderlust


I want to say; go I will await,
would chance your non-return
for your free spirit is a part
of you for which I fall and
I would only have you ever-free
never bound, never, no regrets.

Yet in the next breath I would
beg; stay (not long), and let
our wanderlusts together go
farther than either could alone.



love poem uno (caution, f* word)


that first time, no condoms
no intercourse, something to look forward to.

the next I brought them
we used one before
temptation rode in on bare back

and he said there's always the morning after pill
and I said no, not for me there isn't.

and we fucked hard, harder,
making love intermittently
dancing around words unsaid;
no clear definition of what we are
where we are going but sure
to let the other know

I am seeing only you.



Wednesday, October 11, 2006


baby steps

and finally I said
you know I adore you, right?
and he laughed low, repeated
you know I adore you, right?
and then he said
he's not going anywhere soon.



Friday, October 06, 2006


breathless


Like a deer caught
in a bright glare
against a dark night
I
am deathly afraid
of being happy...
yet on the brink of it
I may well poise
bright-eyed and
breathless.


Tuesday, October 03, 2006


like a carny ride


Like a carny-ride
with a few screws loose
I thought

this closet is too big for just one.

So reticent to call I dawdled
then decreed;

come sail away with me.



Monday, September 25, 2006


poem for t.c.


Cool, the breeze lulls languid
as soft I slept and dreamt
dreams of the land I will roam
far and free, ever at home.



Tuesday, September 19, 2006


age is just numbers


I called you so pretty.
Your laugh naked
for far too many

hours languid, giggly
we spoke too close
seductive bouncing

like lovers falling;
and I sighed soft
when smooth you remarked

numbers...oh, age is just
numbers, baby,
age is just numbers.



Thursday, September 14, 2006


some days little girls need their daddy


In conversation I realized
my father is aging

I can hear the days lament
soft
still southern
despite his foray out
about
the years up north
now in the northeast

he made me cry
the way he still calls me
baby
the way he claims
I would love it there
how
he wants to get me up there
to Seattle
near him and Annie
and the girls

wants to make up for lost time
spent working
leaving us to mother
how he wants to be my father
and how would I
in my independence
finally let him



Tuesday, September 12, 2006


i run my hand along the wall


I run my hand along the wall
recalling other walls
"This one" I say soft
almost unintelligible.

And he gave me that
odd look like men do
and grunted
"gonna take some work."

But this wall, it will be
home; I will paint it
dark creams and vibrant
golds. Like the others.

The walls I sold. The
walls adjacent to the fence
brother's death built.

The walls in my heart
that screamed vibrant reds
and neon greens.

Yet these walls will whisper
welcome home, Wanderer,
stop, sleep, believe.

I promise I will never bind
but open doors to dreams.



Tuesday, September 12, 2006


poetry is


in imitation of Carl Sandberg's "Tentative (First Model) Definitions of Poetry"

Poetry is the slicing of the veins,
the bleeding of the soul
the burying of old remains.
Poetry is the scratch scratch
the pen makes; salt
in silent wounds.
Poetry is a long walk, soft wind,
one man's flesh consumed until
her little heart goes on the mend.
Poetry is the physical manifestation
of despair come calling
leaving the tongue to swoon.



Monday, September 11, 2006


patience hard come


calm he/i
old habits and hurt
the ex
too/so much like
stay
never take
the easy way
never never
run again
if
lend him your love
sweetie, baby he said.



in abject despondence (or bite me e.e.cummings)


3 results for: despondent

–feeling or showing
profound hopelessness,
dejection, discouragement,
or gloom:
despondent about failing health.
—Synonyms
disheartened,
downhearted,
melancholy, blue.

melancholia
blue
melancholia bleu

melancholia balooooo
melancholia balows



Friday, September 08, 2006


a soft prayer whispered

Great Magnet in your wisdom
let him be your vessel...
bring me back to the earth.



Thursday, September 07, 2006


virgins starving


I had forgotten
some things
how much I like
and lips' first kiss
of whispers.
The dragged out
fall down following
was a first;
virgins starving.
Attraction
ascertained.



creativity or love?


remember you asked me once if i would choose creativity or love?
i chose love
i choose love
spirit
body
mind
friendship
eternal
fleeting
there are as many ways to love as there is to anguish.

three poems on three days

light that flickers

light that flickers
deep behind eyes
in parts of the brain
left dormant, sometimes
stirring, startling,
awakening. finding
comfort in darkness

past midnight
and I cannot fall back
to the dreamscape, find
no door despite fervent
searching, drifting,
attempts to meditate,
center, focus restless
thoughts indeterminate.

finally I sleep, dream
and a little black kitten
stiff begins to move, its'
tiny stuffed paws pet
my cheeks of tears blindly
- both of us blindly -
staring not quite glassy
eyes left unseeing.

tell me, what is this?
expunge my psyche,
my heart, my soul,
expose my dementia
but tell me I am never
like Mother stunted
afraid of shadows.



Friday, September 01, 2006

socio-conformist love

love marriage sex babies
love marriage sex babies
love marriage sex babies
possession control judgment
codependence need dysfunction

I would never seek to belittle you
who want these things. They are
for you. They are yours. They are
not for me, They are not mine.

Fill me with the freedom to love
at will in the purity of thought,
in the sanguinity of flesh. Let me
take my lovers without sacrifice
of self and never live knowing
what I have or have not. Let me
never lend an ear towardyour
prisons of socio-conformist love
for I would wither not too sweet.



Tuesday, August 29, 2006

crappy poem that doesn't convey the sentiment i was after

I love me, you know I do
but what attracts is attitude
though even that I lack
in extreme measure.

I am ever the realist, knowing
I am not the hot, cool, chick,
not the super sexy blonde
nor dark, exotic, mysterious.

Im kinda geeky, kinda silly.
I make faces at the camera,
spend too much time alone,
rather plain, sometimes smart,

more often on the verge of
transcendence and madness,
glad to be there and alive
and breathe fire, spit flames.

and take long naps in the sun
some days speaking to no one,

Maybe that's the attraction?
I am not afraid to dive
head first into the abyss,
never afraid to live or love.

love like breathing

He met her then I met you
and all that time we coulda
been fucking like rabbits
neither of us having lost
our hearts to you both
never feeling our hearts
ripped asunder - nor joy
nor a year later horny
like teenagers getting off
over messages and calls
finding empty release
in words like cock and
tight fuck, wet, then
cursory nods wishing
the other well, wishing
the other goodbye, never
regretting that year apart
knowing we are nothing
but shells to each other
never regretting...love
like breathing, life.

hermetic old man

I have begun
waking at three a.m.
again having fallen
fast asleep in my Office.

I realize I could be
that hermetic old man
(more so if burbon and smoke
were applied in libations)
surrounded by my books
and habitual days
but I do love and live
both in my way

and learned that love
comes in many guise
and form
and it is not
so much for you
as it is for me
that I express
these words
oft a poetic morn

having risen
stiff necked and back sore
at least it wasn’t
passed out on the floor
for when I drink
I seek my bed and rise
bright eyed
and wanting more
from life than books
words, dreams,
long naps in the sun.

my brother's ring

It was
my brother’s ring
– heavy – worn –
surely too large
for his small hands
as it is for mine.
I wear it, tape
wrapped ‘round
as to fit my finger.

It is
my rememberance
my worry stone
it is another age,
another time
when I was young
when he was alive
and we were all
apart of that
dysfunction.

It is
my youth – weakness
and anger – before
I grew strong,
but memories
are just that
and thoughts of you
will come one day
without worry
without the need
to actively recall
what I had done.

on contemplating taking a new lover

Friday night I was writing and
the reading of your words intimate
yet of no import and not for me;

speaking in esoteric depth
with m. about transcendence
and bliss so far from his serious
like death views of “in love”;

sending a silent missive to d.
that there should be more
Shakespeare in the world –
desperately, desperately more
knowing he is lost to me,

doubting his reply and move on
having lost something to that lover,
my own rule broke – feeling
something missing perhaps
even the semblance of friendship.

Your laugh and manner like his
yet your own broad smile
and manner draw me to glances;
are young enough not to keep
but old enough not to teach?

two for class

list poem

I got lost

I got lost
that time we met
and I fresh
from parents splitting;
lost
in that heady taste
of flesh consuming, the
newness overshadowing
compatibility of spirit;
lost
upon driving
to your home
to meet the parents,
your directions
- misleading;
lost
on that bridge
when you asked for my hand
("some day" inferred yet I
grasping "soon-now-security").
lost
in my nurturing spirit,
your needs and pursuits place
well ahead of mine;
and lost
in "I am married now,
this is the life I lead, decisions
I must answer to;

Yet finally found in thoughts
and strengths that lead to growth
and the learning to breathe.



association poem

Yggdrasil

In the spring, my youth, affinity for need held fast
for the leaves and roots, the tree symbolic.
Even as harsh my mother's voice decried
her pet name for me – Raintree, Tree –
of which I shied and flinched, my heart fair parched
took seed in the mire of strength.
And on the brink of spring to summer set some
ubiquitous thing as yet implored
so turned I to it, face to the breeze, explored;

There along the trail somewhere in Belize
two young lovers stopped to touch the trees.
This one, the bark medicinal and
this one the chicle' to make gum,
and this one with tiny peppers the guide
grasped as fast we passed.
Yes, you recall, that one when you, the man,
followed his lead and I, laughing full
as the guide replied, "habinero?"

So long I thought I found some strength in you,
the firming of roots, attempt at fruits.
Yet they were visions lost in rings of years'
commitments to roots of rot.

Even so, in my late summer lost, chi too wet
with no direction, I turned to climb
nine levels of Norse hell to heaven
Yggdrasil to my back, inked and sore
the tree steadfast onward I conquer.

august is burning me

Saturday, August 19, 2006

just a man, not a god

I want to live in the mouth
of madness swimming
in visions of sky blue eyes
and laughter lit on literature
and pixie dust. I want that.

I want to sooth away old
sorcerer's spells from the brow
of Bacchus - self proclaimed -
that born again he is realized
as Ra, of whom I see and yet

of Bacchus do I smile sweet,
just a man, not a god.

I watch the men -
I watch the men - I want one -
like candy in the machine
that took my money.

It takes me so long
to pick something out.
So mouth watering
I press my shoulder into it.

SLAM SLAM SLAM!
I give it my best hockey block then
one last open handed SMACK,
loud, echoing down the hall.
I sigh, lean into it and walk away.


sunrise

I watched the sun come up
after days of rising, dressing
in an autonomic state

reaching inside my blouse
searching, yes okay, bra,
okay, remembered that.

Where is my mind but on you
and those late evenings
of wine and talking close

those mornings waking
to your feet in my bed,
your arches and ankles soft

my recent admittance that
in hindsight I think I fell.



Sunday, August 13, 2006

I tried but he

I wanted to
fall for you
I tried but

he made away
unbeknownst,
with my heart

like gum
on the bottom
of his shoe.



Saturday, August 12, 2006

mac and cheese

when you're a vegetarian
a box of macaroni and cheese
is a single serving, not four.



Friday, August 11, 2006

hot white light

I lost my heart, given

in the sun once blindly
while unabashed, coming
undone, becoming
unconditional, free
flowing with the burn;

buried in hot
concrete, immersed fully
of a hot white light
that was he, catalyst
toward setting me free.

He was a gentle peace
found finally within and
the choice to never
love like this again yet
always burn bright.



Wednesday, August 09, 2006

yesterday...a poem

yesterday
we were
young
too young yet
growth
takes many
forms
and we did
grow.

(yesterday would have been...19 years with the same man. he left a beautiful - albeit anonymous - note on my blogger.)



Monday, August 07, 2006

vie

je comprend
un petite peux
mais je suis

indefatigable.


limbo

I wasnt really
this for him
(that for you);

you know its
the taking so long
the hangin on

that hurts me.

Come to me
or let me go.



Saturday, August 05, 2006

as it should be

new ears
new eyes, new place
is there money enough?
getting that credit good
nine hours this semester
am I smart enough?
or rather motivated...

enough

low on food budget
cause of the new ink
I like it
love it
it feels feverish
flushed, healing my chi.

still not wanting to date
or hookup
or flirt (though
I like flirting
with the boys I got.
the ones don't hit on me
and I think of d. now and
again then smile.)
summer cold?
or is it the tat?
sleepy, snotty and

all is right with the world
feels as it should be.


at home in the ocean

I was just remembering Vieques,
mimis along the tree line.
That endless beach with little shore
strewn with starfish. Wanting
to toss them back so they wouldn't die
knowing I couldn't. That's just nature.

How I squealed at the sea cucumber.
The ocean, warm meeting sky
in the distance, seemingly one
so blue my heart stopped
in the breeze as I turned, face toward it
like fingers caressing my cheak.

There is something about Texas
this summer that is almost coastal
reminding me of Vieques,
of Belize. Remember the last few days
on that cay? Where were so young
so broke. Most meals were black beans
tortillas and a dollar�' worth of coffee
in a large thermos. I remember.
I remember little strife between us.
Little, but there, always there.

I've been thinking of grad school
out in cali and of the Universidad
in Puerto Rico. Just thinking
and remembering the beaches,
the good times there and my chi
at peace, at home in the ocean.

from july

Monday, July 31, 2006


asking for divorce

the gown was thin
gauze
white
cheap.

it was too warm,
hot even
for mid-October.

I sat
pressed
clutching
cool leather
against my face
feet drawn up
beneath the gown
weeping softly
looking away.

the sofa
was not long enough
not for the both of us.



Sunday, July 30, 2006


necessities

organic dark roast
and meds for dinner

and I remember
thinking brownies
for breakfast was
an adult decision.

this shit, this shit is
just cause life sucks
and sometimes,
sometimes you just

get tired and get by
on necessities. and

some days breakfast
is a fistful of vitamins.



Wednesday, July 26, 2006


lend my own soul solace

I dream of the earth
and the ocean calling,
a feeling articulated:

it takes a tribe
to raise
the children.

I have slept hard and
fevered, wakening
having found my path.

It is not too late
for the tribe
for the children

for me to walk soft
lend my own soul
solace and lead.



Sunday, July 23, 2006

written march 1988:

There is the sun - out there
and I can only see it
though the crisp cool breeze
embraces me.
I cannot feel the warmth
yet how I long to.
These iron bonds hold me
even when my will is weak.
I do what I must do
to not be beaten.
Soon I will be free
and upon that second
I will fly among
the rays of the sun.
to posess another
As the cool moon fades
and the sun comes
to warm my heart,
in this moment I know
some measure of peace.


Last nights smiles

still linger soft across
my flesh flushed pink.
Again, thoughts of why
your friendship warms me...

Confucius asks,
Can there be a love
which does not make
demands on its' object?

This, this is the base
of my transcendence
for without the need
to possess another
I find my freedom.



Saturday, July 22, 2006


cheap fucking plastic

The traction drifted down
into the tub in tiny
cheap silver flakes,
the pipe tape still snug
after thirteen years of
binding metal to...

cheap fucking plastic,
I muttered to the air.

The brochure had said
new fixtures,
but most weren't.
Most were coated with
bits of paint. No prep work.
They didn't even prep to paint.

I guess I'm just
my father's daughter
- not a daddy's girl
but my father's daughter.
He taught me
when you do things
you do them right and
when you make promises
you make good.

What to do?
call maintenance, let them
see the botched job
and how my girl's arms
and unsteady wrench
couldn't do it?
Ask a male friend
into my intimate abode?

No, no no no...
I'm calling my Daddy
and see what he says
then I'll get
this damn job done.

I won't let cheap
fucking plastic win.



Friday, July 21, 2006


on bravery and inspiration

A car can only run for so long
on an empty tank, a body
last only so long without food
and water...nourishment.
What to do when external fuel
sources are scarce or not
the fuel or source you need?
Ah, but to go stark raving mad?
Or perhaps retreat and attempt
to refuel through self-efficacy
as you always have done,
as it seems you always will.
But for a moments grace
pray all understand
the cost of perseverance
is sometimes the teetering
of the mind between
courage and none before
inspiration is found and
the hardening of the heart
before bravery takes heed.

more

loved once, unconditionally

Perhaps I saw you in the mirror
while I was dreaming. Bits of you
I love about me reflected in walls.

Your half drunk smile. Flesh.
When I touched your hair, course,
bleached tips hiding tender ears.

The taste of you...sweet laughter.
But was it you that was so beautiful?
Or me? What I allowed myself to be?

You are...just a man with fallacies
of a man; fallacies that endear. I am
just a women that allowed briefness.


fragments of stream

too much water in my chi
I am scared
noone to hold me
must stop crying at work.

some paths are
so long so hard
I am tired of
survival,
perseverance
endurance.


untitled - finished

Suddenly I wanted
to save the world
educate the world
suddenly I felt able
to rise to the challenge
of hard work. But now
threads of the universe -
my transcendence
my chi, my aura -
feel slick with sweat
muddled, shut down.
How do I find
the paths I once forged?
How to appease
the great magnet?

All I know is that
it is a changing time
and no more can I live
at my own whim. For
when you let others in
you take the chance
of no longer being
able to die alone. But
I have pushed away
some and others
ran like mad.

So don't you think
I know that when they
find me old and gray
they will also find
a room filled with favors
of endless friendship,
favors and promises
as well as books, words,
crawling with webs
and dust and mold.
Don't you think I know
they will find me alone?



Tuesday, July 18, 2006


untitled - unfinished

Suddenly I wanted
to save the world
educate the world
suddenly I felt able
to rise to the challenge
of hard work. But now
threads of the universe -
my transcendence
my chi, my aura -
feel slick with sweat
muddled, shut down.
How do I find
the paths I once forged?
How to appease
the great magnet?
All I know is that
it is a changing time
and no more can I live
at my own whim. For
when you let others in
you take the chance
of no longer being
able to die alone. But
don�t you think
I know that when they
find me old and gray
they will also find
a room filled with favors
of endless friendship
favors and promises
as well as books and words.



Monday, July 17, 2006


demons shouldn't play cards with ladies from Texas

Dealer dealt my hand,
eyes wicked wild and wide.
I hated house deals but
scratched my head,
tipped my cards,
let my face go pale,
slack and ashen.

I stopped in thought...

some people fear
the depths of their soul,
afraid to face the scary bits.
Me? I probed for something
horrific, knew it was there
for I had touched it, breathed it.
stroked and cooed, fed it
once on another plain.
and when I found it
I wrung the life from it,
bathed in its' essence...

just long enough to let
his lips turn a mean grin.

But with cold eyes
and calm voice
"I'll see you," I said
and tossed my chips
scattering the pot,
"and raise you
them brass balls
I took off your
daddy that day
at high noon."

Then walked away,
knew I would play
the cards I was dealt,
that the coldness
gave me strength
and that demons
shouldn't play cards
with wordsmiths,
poets, ladies from Texas.

mourning dreams

after weeks of
seeming gluttony
suddenly she's
just not hungry.

a hollow stomach
tells her to eat
while her mind
numbs and
unplans her week.

hollow eyes gaze
heavy lidded
at the birds
the wind, the trees

she mulls over her
dreams, sorting them
like beans, which to
keep, which to toss.

and mourning
seeds never to
nourish, never,
ever to reap.

today and yesterday

murdered by silence

Imagine
they tell you
you may go deaf
by age thirty-eight
if things progress
as they have
the last four years.

You can learn
to sign. You can’t force
others to learn to sign.
How do you
check out at the store?
Go to school?
Teach?

Imagine
a world of no music
no laughter
no speaking soft
amidst the flesh
of two bodies entwined.

A world of doors
closing in your face,
a world of dreams
murdered by silence.



Friday, July 14, 2006

today is a gift

I had kept the wine
- a half bottle sealed -
to remind me
of the last time.

Looking back,
you knew it, that
it would be the last?

You planned it;
how you touched
complete, sweet
binding my body
to you and how
you let me linger
late into the eve.

You laughed pure
joy when you came
as always seeming
endless as I gazed
on in wonder.
I can still hear your
faint smiling spasms,
a thing of bliss
my deafness
will never erase.

That one night finally
I slept at ease and
morning came so soon.
I reached for more
as always I craved...
but you rose swift.

I thought nothing of it.
You showered long
and I held your cider
ready then watched
as you walked
barefoot across grass
away from me

Crave not your
sweet heart? body?
If life were not
so precious, Ra
I never would have
said hello anyway...
in the first place?
But today is a gift.
and those yesterdays
of you were my heaven.


you would know them

devastation and despair...
you would know them

when the numbness comes
even when never having been
suicidal (even now in the silence)

you would welcome death
open armed like a lover.

june and july backlog

Friday, July 14, 2006

something to do

poets at home
on friday nights
not knowing

whether to wack
off or write

or run up for beer
though her wit
is naturally stoned

enough suddenly
options are forgot

and she sleeps.



Wednesday, July 12, 2006


thier bliss i brief chanced to kiss

Known I few,
moments of
beauty. And in
those moments
felt I blessed.

Though wondered I
why kept they
could not be, knew I
to hold they were
not mine. Mourn I

their loss not
instead but weep

their bliss I brief
chanced to kiss.



Tuesday, July 11, 2006


sake dreams

last night there were
locked doors, locking
me in, half-lifes trying
to break the boundaries
down with faint claw
sounds but when we came
free of the mazed citadel
there was nothing save
mesquitoes on the water
and all about my face
then homespun theatre
where I lost a handsome
man beneath soft waves.



Monday, July 10, 2006


drunk ass poem

sometime sadness seem sweet
to come in thought too deep
walkin' from bar to car;
them big ass words form
on the tip of tongues
mother fucking huge yet never
come to fruition, lost, coming
down from that sake high.
But brief you thought you had
the answer to it all, almost
but atleast it stopped the tears
cause the walk weren't far.



Friday, July 07, 2006


hot sauce on fries or it was the eighties when

It was the eighties when things changed,
when Dallas became money. Till then
most ate they catfish dry, cornmeal fried
with dill in the tartar and hot sauce

on the fries. We used lard on the biscuits,
lard in the gravy, lard saved by the pound
in huge red coffee cans stored beneath the sink.
We cut up chickens once whole,
knife grinding near the bone.

I won't say Texas was white trash poor
but the food was simpler and simple things
were treats to boys and girls allowed to run
and roam the streets on bikes after dusk.

Life itself changed seemingly overnight
but then I was going from nine to ten,
a new decade dawning, drawing me out
and pushing me in, but it was another time,
another place and I was so young then.

I was free, my own company I kept. But
oh the things I learned as a child!
The things I saw! Yet the mountains were
too high. I learned to withdraw.

Still I eat my catfish dry, cornmeal fried
with dill in the tartar, hot sauce on fries,
think on summers gone away
and recall how that girl almost died,
how hard I've fought to keep her alive.


on napping

soft in the summer heat
lulling, lazin' 'bout the day
in and out of dreams
the fan a whir, soft breeze.


redwater and recollection

In visage and heart
divine enough to weep,
he left me knowing
he is just a man.

Left me craving
the frailties of a man.
Left me with memories
sweet, unconditional.

He left me
with the feeling
my life had been graced.

When he left,
he left me standing
strong with Redwater
to recall we touched.



Thursday, July 06, 2006


wall of voodoo - ring of fire

some distinct sounds
I want to burn to my skull
before their boom fades
and I am left a silent hull

doo da doo da doo
dum da da dum dum dum



Tuesday, July 04, 2006


politics, education and dumb-assed-ness

And here it is. I've done my thing by voting but I can't ignore the pull any longer. Immigration, education, insurance reform and more (or lack thereof in any logical manner)...has impassioned me. (Okay it's just damn pissing me off.)

"We" turn against a large population of Americans, we churn out idiocy en mass, we deny people basic medical care. And yet Americans are still afforded the most freedom of any nation, we are the most cared for by our government. I say "afforded" as if it has to be given but in a sense most of the population couldn't make a good decision to save thier lives.

I can't tackle everything and I'm not sure what I can do. Perhaps teaching will be my calling and I can get to the next generation subversively? I don't know.

I do know that I'm restless, as if my passivity in crossing my own t's and dotting my own i's just isn't enough any more. Suddenly I feel responsible for taking care of the goddamn sheeple who can't think and take care of themselves. Or actually I feel the need to kick some asses and wake people the fuck up.

Yeah so my dumb ass is looking at a Masters and Doctorate in Education instead of writing. Funny how goals change huh?



Sunday, July 02, 2006


strange analogy

this may be the last time
I hear the fireworks.


lifeline

all those years falling
down the well
reaching finding
the only lifeline my own
umbilical to father sky

history repeats itself
and my belly is sore
from all the pulling.



Saturday, July 01, 2006

quiet storm

In my constant quiet
there is a gentle storm

though

I cannot hear the thunder
past the deafness but see

the trees against the dusk
of the day fading, restless
then still, the lightening
sets the sky aglow, feel
the rain moist like tears,
breathe deep the damp
rich earth that soothes
lips too parched from years

and in my breast a heart
beating soft and sweet,
that cries quiet tears.



Thursday, June 29, 2006

epiphany

When something silly
hurts you so deep,
I want to tell you

it doesn't matter.
I want to scream

"People are dead
people are DEAD."

But that is my epiphany
and we each must
find our own in time.



Wednesday, June 28, 2006


two untitled turtles

I
Reach out to all but me;
leave me flailing in attempts to please
and eventually I will stop
trying and simply fade away at the lack
of care, of recipricocity.

II
Brother mine,
in constant tears
you remind me
of what matters
most in life.

Haunt me lest
I lose site of Love.



Sunday, June 25, 2006


a boy from school

Woke up late, napped early,
arose in sluggish heat; fever.

Why so much fever lately?
My ears been sore maybe
and life kinda messed up,
shook up, but I dreamt

of a boy from school.
Not my circle, not my set.

A strange and erotic dream.



Friday, June 23, 2006


new soul meets old

The baby came long time to visit.
Two weeks old and tiny. Healthy.
Asked where he had been. Intent,
He gazed on me, eyes telling me,
Mouth forming tiny coos, trying.
Where have you been, little boy?
What have you seen? Prithee tell.
I spoke to, told him, yes go on...


Missing Ra

The sweet lightness
of kiss and caress,
how once early on
you dove into my arms,
smile a bright white light
that burned and how
we laughed, how I held
you to my bosom
young and free.



Thursday, June 22, 2006


madness

I could feel him dying,
was awake before
the phone ever rang,
had known that eve
when I left his bedside.
I also knew because
I killed you.

And the other?
Blood across town
flowing from slit wrists
and the calm that came;
the next day I sought
you out, your absence

deafening like all
those years in a bond
remaining unseen,
beat down hard like trash
with words that cut
and hurt so deep.

I was dead
like you two boys
so frail; one of body
the other of spirit,
I had no soul
but in your deaths
I live. I live.


truth in advertising

Those who make
claims to uniquity
usually fall short.

Me?
I been
nothin
special
for a
long
long
time.


Thanos

Thanos came to court in the eve
of slumber,
on the waves of shadow
did I rest
embraced in cool arms, grazed by
cool lips.
but he held me close in love.

I was a child
with an old soul's recollections
and burdens
but knew love when years passed;
and he came
to wed his girl from long ago
and bring me
peace after so much mourning.

How can I say death warms me?
I do not know.
but thoughts of a rendezvous
in the dark turns
my could heart to an ember's glow.



Wednesday, June 21, 2006

naked ass

when did a peeing dog
become more offensive,
than a naked ass?

even misconstrued as
"I mark my territory",
is it really as bad as

the insinuation of
showing ones goods
for free to all, fuck anyone
without knowing them?

even misconstrued as
"possessive friendship"
is it really worth less than

the insinuative offering
of porn and booze.
(here are my panties
fling fling fling.)

When did our sense
of propriety get fucked
and when did we lose
the accountability
of our actions?

i was gonna explain this one and it's only half finished...
but fuck it. i'm tired.


of the many loves - kindred spirit
for ~m...

How do I explain your picture on my desk?
In my wallet when I open it to pay? Ladies
coo and preen, "Ooooh your man, he's so"

Nonono no, my friend, my dear friend and
I gaze down distracted, "yes, cute isn't he?"

The lady's eyes, they light knowingly as if
what I get brings her closer to getting you.
Her reply, low and husky, comes out like
a come on, "yes," as she touches her hair,
flirting with you through me. I smile, coy.

How does one explain kindred spirits -
especially in passing, with so few words?

Your picture in my wallet keeps you close,
my little purse clutched tight beneath my arm
so near my heart, as close as any has come.
It keeps you safe, warm and dear as one
who finds me worth the time to comprehend.

So in my daily gaze upon your face I thank
all powers that be that friendship found me
and accepts I can only be who I can be.

just a note: i have never explained my authorial intent on a piece before (i love the ambiguous translation by the reader to thier own needs) but feel it necessary to do so on this one. i want NO misunderstanding of my intent here. in this piece i have ATTEMPTED to IDEALIZE FRIENDSHIP and how most people can't understand pure and simple kindred spirits and the care of one friend for another. i have ATTEMPTED to exemplify how people always have to read more into FRIENDSHIP. (one of the types of love c.s. lewis speaks of). if i have failed miserably in my ATTEMPT to achieve this affect, i appologize to the reader AND to the FRIEND to which i have dedicated the piece.
yours,
~peach


on not being seen

It hurts that I say things
point blank but still
am not believed
as if
I would lie
as if
I know nothing
of my own nature
as if
I'm a stupid, inarticulate girl
with no god-given sense
as if
you are deaf and refuse
to accept me freely but force
me into a preconceived mold
mold
mold
mold
what is mold but rot?



Tuesday, June 20, 2006


the poet

in our temples alone
we worship love;
we evolve our hearts
more ideal than most
we refuse to settle
taking recompense in
solitude, alone we go



Tuesday, June 20, 2006


gone the way of fairy kings

Yes I can
feel it slipping
away.
And with it
the hard earned
sanity
for which I fight
tooth and nail.

I feel it like a
love's caress
gone the way
of fairy kings
into knights of
dreams unrealized.

I feel it like...I
feel it simply
slipping
a
w
a
y
.



Monday, June 19, 2006


the sun and the snow

there’s a place on a snowy beach
where the sun shone soft in the eve;
it was your heart breaking
the clouds and warming hers.

but let the sun shine on the morrow
on another beach of breezes cool
for she wants someone whole
for you to love, not torn asunder.



Sunday, June 18, 2006


high noon

High noon in Texas
surpassed the hottest hell
of purgatory's dreams:
heat enough even to tire
a woman of steel and
I had already been workin'
in the forge all morn
smithin' words when

a demon in high shiny helm
of a roman fool and brass balls
about as big as a pig
stepped into the street.

Sheeple scurried like rats away
to hide behind barrels and barnacles,
torn circus tents flappin'
in the hot dust I called a cool breeze.

Fucker was sweating an
unnatural stench and I couldn't
tell if his eyeballs were sweatin'
too or if he was gonna cry.

Looking at him almost hurt: wide
staring eyes, balls shining green.
He was a green demon couldn't
even stand the heat.

He had come for the wordsmith,
the Peach whose infamy
crossed four lands
He had come
for the demon slayer.

I let my hardened eyes rest
awhile back on my forge, then
tempered the flue. Dirt and
sweat and ink glistened on
arm, legs and back strong willed.

His name was Deafness, this demon
and he was about to be my bitch
and call me daddy...

Let them come, these demons
when they think me weak
for I will beat down each
and every goddamn one.



Saturday, June 17, 2006


scent of a man

there's a scent of a man
that wanders through the rooms
odd days and odd hours.

I breathe deep the ghost
of mankind, watch the desk drawer
ease open quiet while I
write and smile soft at the comfort.


you lift my heart

The light play of words
in a gentle flirt, your
asking of my well being
and our exchanges deep
concern and care; of our
conversations I never tire
but let you go knowing
the next tine will come
soon and you will lift my
heart again and again
my darling, dearest friend
in kindred spirit I've found.


soothing moans through window panes

Gray skies, the girl cardinals come
and music is left palpable on the tongue,
a vague taste I may soon only recall
like whispers of breathe along flesh.

Ah, the wind and trees bend and sway,
soothing moans through window panes.

Mourning, sarcasm, come weigh
my defection; in such demand of now
my god will I crumble beneath
the weight of more attentive loves and

lovers breaking down doors? Oh aye,
sarcasm as my shield but I did warn.

I mourn losses I lose though likely of
fruits I never would have bourn. Yet at
what gate do we give up dreams in
exchange for other tangible dreams?

At what point do I scream never more,
never more? Shut down the factory of

a heart’s desire? This mostly I mourn.
That little girl heart that outgrew her
turtling talent of turning cold, side-
stepping askew in exchange for fluidity.

in tiny rivulets

I wring and wring
the thing; hot blood
streaming in tiny
rivulets beading,
burning my hands.
I wring till almost dry.

Strong arms shake
up down out, uncurling
smooth and one safety
pin at a time I hang
my heart to dry,
hot summer breeze

blowing. Billowing
in the wind, clean
scent of bleach stinging
and the sun warm
across my face, soft,
bright in my eyes.


hot tea and white corn tortillas

It used to be biscuits,
homemade. Not the fluffiest things
but drenched in butter.

It soothed my heart
to mix the dough and pound soft,
roll and cut and pinch

the tidbit sides left for
me to eat like a kid licking the
bowl of some sweet.

It has always been tea
hot with sugar, now raw cause
my stomach no longer

handles the white
stuff. Sickens at that and meat
and oils and I feel

old sometimes but
sooth my soul with hot tea
and white corn tortillas.

Monday, June 12, 2006

i need coffee

I need coffee
and a cigarette
only I cut back
on caffeine
and don't smoke.

I need a beer
I'm craving beer
only I don't drink
never have really
but do increasingly so.

I need a fuck
a good rutting fuck
only I dont hook-up
or sleep around. did
briefly, went wild

in my lame hermitic
way, but now don't.

I'm just restless
and going nowhere
not soon. have to bide
my time and finish...
another two years?

Then I'll have
my beer, get fucked,
have coffee over eggs
in the morning
while he smokes.

Maybe by then I'll want
else, have moved on.


Sunday, June 11, 2006

the sky was not enough

there is
no stillness
no white space
no long pause
it was a dream a
beautiful dream
we had but one
of us awoke and
realized the sky
was not enough
to hold us much
deeper than
friendship's
fondness.


Saturday, June 10, 2006

saturday's seeds

I
in the window I catch
my reflection slim trim
skinny little curves big
ones. men look up down
catch my eye receive a
wink turn away move
on. always they are mov-
ing on. I catch my gaze
in the window strong
sure unneedy and smile.

II
even the happy words
would have come in tears

III
the ladies pass in their fashions
new. I look down at my old
work shoes. the insides they are
worn warm moist from heat
cracked from salt sweat molded
to me. outside weathered
from the yard the paint. handmade
leather they will last my life
long. as all the ladies pass in their
fashions I stand in my common
sense.

IV
I suck my bottom lip
but do not cry instead
eyes move to paper
hand grasps the pen.

V
Michael,
is it tears or sweat you wipe
from your nose and cheek?
Michael,
mr. natural with flowers in
your hair no shoes on your
feet, basket and book in hand.
Michael,
are you crying, were you in
the war, what have you seen?

Vi
can you see the moon, d?
asks I the useless friend.

backlog again

though rare
soft
sounds
of whispered
ohhhhhs and
flesh on
flesh
fading
lost
save
the rhythm
in my
body
in my
heart

how can I live
without this;
though rare
is the occasion
of my indulgence,
how?


always it is strong

I own to no people but I
feel it deep, the land,
the great magnet as he shifts.

Tears of the people spring
from the endless well
sometimes seemingly from

the blue father sky (down).
These people, my blood
from father from mother;

their sadness is one, their
heart a collective soul, their
will the strength of nations

gone to war, of women left
behind, their spirit...
endeavors to persevere

always, always it is strong.


the short list

depression
melancholy
social ineptitude
death by cancer
four deaths by old age
marriage
hearing loss
depression
social ineptitude
death by my hand
depression
tiny bean didn't make it to zygote
I called her Skye Marie when I cried
depression
cheating
growth
divorce
social ineptitude
death by his hand, suicide
growth
deafness
depression

What order do I put these in?
chronological seem so cold.

I know where my daddy is, he's
up in the northwest. I know
where my brother is, he's gone
to the grave. Where is sister but
missing in America and in her
soul. Where is mother but gone
to her senility I pray not to catch.
And I am here in contemplation,
lost between strength and none,

writing the short list wondering
should I add bullets.


agape

even in the green grass of summer
while I bleed my heart away through
wrists slit with words and thoughts
sharpened on a jaded youth come
again to haunt my tears, even then
do I set myself aside and think of
you first and foremost...do ut des,
baby, I'm just a sad mess that way.


it's about me...now

Silence impending,
falling into sadness
flailing arms wide
as eyes, my attempt
to grasp a lifeline
failed.
You were
too busy thinking
to listen, wrapped
up in your push-
pull doubt. Even
honesty was lost
as tendons tore;
arms as well as
heart.
Words,
I gave you words.
Specificity fell on
deaf ears. (Yours
not mine.) applied
at will. I know who
I am. You didn't
believe.
(Black is
only red in the
shadows, sir, and
Friendship only
forms in trust and
deeds with me...

recipricocity.)


Thursday, June 08, 2006

in want to find me

Then again if I listen
loud, it will be done

I would have forced
the hand to spite god,

can close off from all,
falling into hermitic

silence, deafness, bliss,
hell, voice going mute.

I am lost with none
in want to find me.


in the womb

I'm scared...
terrified, I
leave the radio
mute, the phone
it frightens me.

What if it's
something I've
done, could have
prevented. what
if its my fault?

Do ut des...but
god walked away
from the girl one
bright day despite
so many prayers;

and flooding
comes old comrades
of doubt, fear,
need, loneliness. My
god how could you

send all my hard
earned efficacy
to sunder even if
brief. Why did you
forsake me even

in the womb?

Then the words
strike, the rhythm
as I find my heart,
whisper, "I am more
than this, much

more, so much," even
as tears fall 'cross
parched frail lips,
the eyes of a soul
in mourning life.


Wednesday, June 07, 2006

beasts of logic

something in you
hopes, dreams. the
same in me circles,
stalks yours like
prey. we deny. so
much easier to
not care, not hurt.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
I rare recall
Sometime the world just heavy and
why it's weight I carry, can't say.
Been that way too long and life
it just compound the damn thing.
Been that way few lives back.
Mayhap it's just the burden of
old souls that still hadn't learned.

It's okay. I'll be okay, just some
heartache coming up from depths
I rare recall of late cause I been
so busy smiling you see. So busy
at my age, blushing and cooing.
Ain't no boom-ba-boom like base
but a slow deep hum like honey...


Monday, June 05, 2006

stillness aches

Little girl alone
in the crushing
of being bound,
moved through
days unfeeling,
endless hours
unending, age
coming on slow,
time passing in
phrases of, "my
god when will
it end." and there
was begging oh
yes there was
begging, pleading
and breaking
of a soul come
free to drift in
curious questing
like a babe she
sought - what?
Enlightenment?
Transcendence?
Calm sweetness,
understanding,
cherishment. She
found her need,
in stillness, aches
for it as the days
pass beloved in
a quick cool heat
of the heart in...

love.
but what am I?


I'm not much...

-No, you're everything
to me, everything I need.
Me, I'm not much, but oh
how I love to make you...
smile.


sweetness

I awoke middle of the night
sadly, unclothed and chilled.
Reaching for the white space
I curled in soft, secure; big
blue Royale whispering like
teddy bears are want to do,
"hush, baby he heart you."

Whispered I in reply across
ten thousand miles of sand,
Sweetness, to you the pace
deferred, my trust a gift hard
earned. Just know I dream

I dream.

And sleep came on sweetly
as I lay still, long pauses on
the brink of thought, tears
brought on by wide smiles,
soft caresses coming through
the wires on tips of tongues
and longings as yet unrequited.


Sunday, June 04, 2006

Wayward son,

My resilience, perseverance to endeavor
runs deeper than your sadness
for I am the daughter of the earth
crying rivers over
the massacre of my soul.
I have known despair,
doubled over, the inability
to move from my fetal arch.
Against the bile in my stomach
your tears your fears
have no chance;
I will suck them from your heart
in a gentle kiss
and bring you home.


timeless

The deck is not so worn having
only been read once or twice.
Instead I spread the cards
warm in hands for me
on odd occasions.
They tell me my hopes
and dreams, in confirmation
and validation as in connectivity
I reside as one with the universe...

untitled

as if you lay

beside me never

have i been

so aware of my

own heart

beating.


Friday, June 02, 2006

white space

If my heart I keep
in comfort to me
breast at view for

you only you no
others save to belay
in ars poeticas, then

understand I, I, I
am good and sure
in the white space.


friend
if not in constant
comment know
much waking thought
is you for and of
and in this white
space i wander
still free beloved.



Wednesday, May 31, 2006

voices

I
um hum, like the way
you call me baby.
same way daddy coos,
low tempo to his lady.

II
voice like a sure
clean
ohhhhhhhhhhhh.
ping pang, come
undone in twilight.
oh shit, oh shit.


Wednesday, May 31, 2006

streem
dream
sweet
sleep
come
voice

so...
into
me
soul
in
midnight
hours

please
please
pleasing
adore
I



hollow

Why so suddenly
does image not
matter? Do I feel
flippant toward

my moral stand-
ing even cruel
enough to put
me down, down.

Let me be what
they think I am,
a shallow piece
of ass; hollow.

I am not always
strong against
the machine. I
give, uncle I give.


i had another profile...before.

I was old once, not
as old as Tom but
older than most you.
only I was a green
girl to being single,
being hit on, being
online surrounded
by the world. As in
the physical realm
in big crowded
rooms I panicked,
slammed hard with
the perversion of
men I withdrew.
Old phobias set in.
I carved my name
on the wall in jade
and slept days away,
let no one in. Still
I am hardened and
disbelieve any man
here wants more
than ass, wants me.


asshole
email from the ex today
checking in on my writing.
why was he an asshole then
and now...a good man?

of all days, today i can't
handle this from him.


little boy lost

Little boy lost, I long
to hold you in my arms,
and kiss your cheek
so sweet so hurt so kind,
your cruelty divine;
perverse and sweet to
succor you at my breast
as mother as sister as
lover, mate, run my hands
the length of you, grasp
your heart and squeeze
tears of joy and madness
from your dark heart.

Little boy lost and lonely
I want to comfort you
but not at the expense
of my own black heart
made of gumbo soil now
creviced in your heat, once
so painstakingly formed
with little girl hands
from scratch and what
no one ever gave her
only what she gleaned
from books and thought
from little girl dream.

suddenly...

I remember nineteen
and being unsure. I
remember loving in
desperation the wrong
boy I kept too long.

Why did you bring
me these memories
of sadness and lack
of self-efficacy. Oh
the pains I endured

to get past sadness
and all its entrails,
all it entails. Oh all
the begging to a god
that deftly turned away.

Cries on deaf ears,
the irony. How could
you come finally in
the hour I stood strong,
alone, resigned to it

and happy not knowing
I was lonely...until you.
This is about you in
my heart. This is about
you in yours. I am alibi.

backlog 3

Bring me close with your confessions
in response to a fellow poet:

bring me close with your confessions
cast not your eyes upon my face
but upon my heart.
do not whisper words of future
for my god hears no prayers
simply cherish me.
it matters not to me
past transgressions
it matters not to me
what others thought.
give me,
give me,
give me...
your heat
your passion
your smile,
knowledge of you.
I truly know
what love is
how it feels
to be cherished
in your eyes
as kindred spirit.
-darling

poets, do not read this

I read you, many of you
love’s lamentation lost…

you have no mates; those
of you who have mates,
leave them at home in
the dark lacking, existing.

They do not see you
the good, the bad, the
poet doomed to hope
once just once for love,

love’s lamentation lost
this life. I read you I
know you, they are
my words, my life. I

confront you to live
where I may never.


she just a little heart

She just a little girl
growed on inattention,
taken for granted, giving to
a fault she could not
would not ''tempt to close.

she have her duality of
spirit. she embrace it all
and yet mourns knowing
no one once they seen
her real want to keep her.

no one at'all. Self-efficacy
may just be her downfall.


Sunday, May 28, 2006

ba-ba blacksheep
The answer
lay not in
multitudes but
in your heart.

Lay not prone
to the social masses
in judgment
of health of mind or

spirit; but accept
your own duality
of nature as
I have my own.

Love, in peace
and anarchy,
love your way
as I love mine.


sadness
as published in the May-June issue of Black-Listed Magazine

When in the garden there's a girl
spills her heart on her sleeve saying
oh how clumsy, pardon me and
cries rubber duck smiles
nodding, slipping, torn away.


little black heart
dedicated to a girl I once knew...

She fucked up
finally this time;

the well had no
water to break

her rapid decent
when leaning
she fell too far.

"Oh aye," she
cry, "back to the
nunnery me gets!"

But did he know?
Did she impart?
She has much

love yet with
none did she part;

no man worthy of
her little black heart.

Saturday, May 27, 2006

god

You are not the words
in books repeated,
rehearsed, memorized
but the base for free
thought, critiqued and
the deconstucturalization
of social ideology
at its peak. Therefore
I retermed you
as universe and awe,
internalized you,
bound free to my
spirituality, stole you
from the bloody sheeple.

Yet why do I turn
to you with a head
full of love of him?


Friday, May 26, 2006

2.99 a pound

lips, tongue,
fingertips
stained
with juice sweet of
summer cherries
yet my mouth
is in want
of you..

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

beauty

In my heart
I always knew
I was beautiful;

in my heart
no one else did.

Still I toss aside words
in disbelief but

yours I hold close, it
being my soul of
which you speak.


m –

I want,

long and lean

to stretch back into

the curve of you

to spoon,

nap,

dream.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006
replete
Light chenille pulled close
against fevered skin; too
hot flesh restlessly flush
in response to stimuli the

mind stirred from depths
and the distance of desires.

Little hands lost in thought
she moved; hey diddle-ooh,
a tear shed, a sigh torn, both
so soft she slept till morn.

backlog 2

Monday, May 22, 2006

hard candy christmas

Sometimes I'm not so sure
if I stopped the meds too soon
but you were wide-eyed
screaming to the empty room.

I wonder if it was too soon but
no I wonder did I do it for
you or for me, for daddy, to ease
all the suffering all around.

Regardless in my heart I found
the stillness to put you down'
put you on the death drip
that sent you further off, away,

that put you in the ground
and I on the edge of maturity.


call me buttercup

One day one December eve, OH
one, no, two years ago, I stopped
to look about and upon my eyes
came to rest a particular realize;
the ex, past loves and lovers had

seemingly
finally
attached

to their one, the one, A one, umm
perchance purchased the dairy from
wit the pussies drank they milk, got
whipped creams, pies, Jell-O thighs.
(No I am not bitter, instead a pitch
hitter, playa of mischievery adept

all
in
fun.)

Any who, my then current screw (for
lover did he lack in luster and care
(mark one up for a gimme? don't we
all get just one goddamn gimme?)
So yeah, accused of "where is my
one?" then eyein' him, I replied wry:

"go
fuck
yourself,"

and said goodbye for e'en friendship
with the chap was folly. But I was
brought low tide then high and realized
it was okay abreast of all to die. For so
I set about my life's love's pursuits:
to write, be my best; hermetically aloof.

Then
came
him

whom I could not let pass without
my walls but within and gave free
passage to let run amuck and I
unconditionally believed in the one
and only me's ability to lay open,
learn to give and grieve, let pass and

then
came
you.

in recipricocity to decree much freely
like me. I knew not what to feel, give
only that I want and do and in confusion,
hermetic fusion withers, lacking, sadly
scrying as I blossom flush and sweet
in attentive gazes giggling, challenging

do
you
meet.


being blonde gone red

when told by a friend
I am not dense, to her
my reply? "Um...loss
of synaptic aptitude
and spelling." That's
being blonde gone red.


Sunday, May 21, 2006

blossoming

I knew not I
was lonely
until..you

opened me
up, put me
in the sun
on the
window
sill and I
drank you in.
it's a brave new world
We slave away at jobs all day.

At night we croon, open mic to the moon
and all that would listen to us;
the poet the ruler of the new dissention.

We peddle our wares, our cares
free for all the massed classes that feel;
we the poet to druggies deal.


Friday, May 19, 2006

Well I wonder

Why so suddenly afraid?

Wasn't I the one
that said tread
these waters slow,
you the one that said
be yourself. But
onward I row, go,
holding safe those few
words of which I fear for
circumstance, time
situation, distance
more so than for
their feeling,
meaning but only
cause it's you.
I would never

feel just to feel.
Not again.
Never again.

This is still madness, yes?
But I find I want
to crush, to get
caught
up in it all, let
it flow natural
and real; in
dappled rays
of sunlit days
that bring me
words that touch
that heal an ache
I thought a dream;
cherishment
it would seem.

Why though, Love,
so suddenly afraid?
Well I do wonder...


Thursday, May 18, 2006

baby at work

There was a baby today,
she smelled like baby,
smiled like baby, cooed
and moved like baby.

The baby tooted when I held her,
her eyes got big and round, "did you
do that?" I asked. and she smiled big,
not two months old, knowing what I'm
saying. She knew. Babies know everything.


madness

I whispered in the eve
...of madness surely...

this one
soon
mine
love.

So much to cover so
much to know, confer
a year point five seems
so far yet a drop in time

for me to lift you up
into my happiness and
comfort in my arms, arms
that span ten thousand

miles of blushes and smiles.


Wednesday, May 17, 2006

come august

Come August...
I will drive 'cross town to the catfish place
sit outside in my languid Texas heat, feel
the sweet drip of sweat 'tween breasts full
sipping soft on iced tea, slowly spooning
shrimp gumbo laced with hot sauce over
white rice, brought to lips and tongue and a
mouth that blows to cool the divinity of it.


representation of self

We are not this shell

scars from flesh torn
age and dilapidation

the youth of taut tits
snappy hip chic cool

coy smiles askew in
light shadow angle

but our hearts bared
attitude loose free

fucked minds at ease
transcendence sought

seeking sleaze sleek
torn souls careless

whispers intentional
teases bots shine

spirit incongruent to
façade as well as

soul matched smiles
reaching eyes when

they rest on another
to whom they connect.


Wednesday, May 17, 2006

that loves

she's
just a little girl

just a little...
girl

she's just a little girl

she's

just a little girl
little girl

little girl that loves.


how much to divulge?

In hesitance, fingers
pause for she lay quiet
before the crush instills,
still feeling things out

for she proceeds unsure
even of what she thinks
she saw in passing as
intent toward her, her,

but he called her babe
and she blushed, coy;

blushed last eve
late under the moon's
keen eye, slept
deep, hard was her
flushed brow and
pink cheek pressed
to cool linens, soft
as slow she tread
waters uncharted
drifting into dreams.

And if what she saw
was in fact intent,

will he let her stay
awhile in ponderance
poking, polling, asking
analyzing her way, her

sore heart governed by
low of need for surety?
And how much to divulge,
ever cautious of his own

admittance to skin like
parchment far too thin...

i think i ate the canary

Bloody-damn
hand
pain all 'round and
up the shoulder, no
more than two hours
at a time could I rest
in slumber sweet
complete
yet rose I sluggish in
sheepish
smiles; oh
I think I ate the canary.

sex and intent

I love my little roundness
of the hips curved 'round
to my navel and womb. Oh
I have abs, they're there
somewhere under a tummy

fed full on organic milk
fats that fill me out well
in stark contrast to legs
still long, still slim, still
not enough to balance

breasts too heavy for my
frame as I oft lean full
force toward door jams
and the hard ground. I
suppose I was never one

for balance but as I walk
in graceful swings of
sex and intent I get a good
stare as I giggle when
I fall demurely on me bum.


Sunday, May 14, 2006

three one sunday (unrelated)
I
Pain brings me to
shore upon the banks
of reality, hurt so bad
I turtle, feelings so
intense words won't
come, only silence.
All lay bare upon my
sleeve instead of pen.

II
I felt invisible
having been
checked out
found lacking;
his touch
endless hunger,
mine, a light
repast; snacking.

III
daydream believer

"Can I touch your hair?"
"Of course", she smiled
and closed her eyes
his fingers grazing
cheek then lips, eyes
wide he violated her
heart and desires.

Fingers on keys,
eye on life outside
her window brightly
toward you, thought
turned, daydreams
burned, she
gazed.


for the ex

Gotta give the man
credit for being able to come so far so fast
after my asking for divorce kicked his ass:

Most of all I recall
your anger yet
even so, that fades
and I can exist
in the realm of
friendship and care;

you are happy
(as am I), babe
on the way (writing
my life), new
wife, new career, (I
will eventually get

where I go as well.)
All I know is
in the end have you
always and forever
as my friend.


Wednesday, May 10, 2006

ain't scared a you

I
watched
you
die

swore I would never
let another love pass
my lips without one
sweet kiss as if to say

I
checked
it
out

and can be on my way
but at least Love at
least I was brave, did
live utmost and true.


two unrelated poems

No longer am I that young girl
(if ever I truly were) yet open I
mind wide, heart unabashed
and fill I, belly full finally do I
crave to know to wonder though
always in some wonder I wandered
now though, consumed am I with
passion for it
need to devour it
in rapid ascension, to live, learn.


My boss came in from meetings
and said "oh it's nice and quiet."
I wanted to say it's always nice
when you're away, oh and quiet.
Instead I smiled and nodded
in affirmation, keeping the peace,
endangering self toward apathy.


Tuesday, May 09, 2006

thoughts of you intrude

Its sad if one needs sad
stories to remind one,
make one feel but it brings
me to you. I did so intrude,
to question are you even
looking? when remarks
of finding self seemed excuse
so flippantly formed.


Tuesday, May 09, 2006

fever

'pon my brow
'tween my breasts
salt sweat not tears
but the uncoming
of pain in shallow
breathes of sleep
and exhaustion I
rise quiet in night.


zen haiku

fever
bring to a boil
salt lightly


i need THIS man

There's a big man
named George works
down at the carwash
Sundays, Thursdays.
George has even bigger
hands that make me cry;
Ten dollars, ten minutes
for 'Massages by George'.


pain/pizza

Skinned elbows
wrist broke
tother bruised
meds for pain like
toys for tots?
fucking bitch

stabbed that tetanus
IN; thank you
I said soft and

the most pretty
blue-eyed blonde
boy handled me
with care, wrapping,
instructing, making
sure I got those meds.

sleep type eat
meds sleep dream
no lifting therefore

no store and also
no dressing
no cooking
no wacking off
left over pizza for two
more days?


Saturday, May 06, 2006

past life - sick for sleep

Sick for sleep one
bright afternoon
I curled up with
blanket, with pillow
in the floor in
front of wide
glass doors; one

dog in the crook
of my knee, one
in the curve of
my belly, a third,
the alpha, her head
on my pillow,
nose in my hair
that was long then.

I slept good,
warm with the care
of my babies
surrounding.


Friday, May 05, 2006

i miss my youth

I miss my youth. I miss
my granddad and dad
talking. We had things
like porches then and


cicada instead of patios
and locusts; the latter
being misnomer actually
but people lack specificity
now and knowledge;
colloquial words gone.

My youth in all its
detail reduced to lore.
Maybe someday some-
one will study, find my


mah heart

translated by: gizoogle


Oh how
mah heart beats
loud lately...
boom-ba-boom,
base n drums -
wapow! In a
shawty flutta,
tick-tick-tick;

desire
fo` mah southern
playa ta come, in hizzle
of passion fo` hot concrete
tha burn'n n tha blunt-rollin'
thereof, a

restlessness
ta write; so miznuch in
mah heezee feels fine
n sure, ready ta be
freed,


in search of
transcendence sweetly,
tha word "God" strangely
gang bangin' though so far
am I from tha niznorm it is
aloof, surreal
mislead'n ta
tha socio-gizzle damned
T-H-to-tha-izzat ever I learned
tha tizzerm: prevalent
social
ideology

n fizzle into
tha love of Marxist theory,
bare, buttock raised hizzle
ready fo` tizzle first
sting of flizzesh
on
flizzesh.

Oh how
mah heart beats
loud lately...
boom-ba-boom,
base n drums -
wapow! In a
shawty flutta,
tick-tick-tick.


Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Jade

October came and
went having left
me cold when once

having fed well
on flesh quite sweet
of breadth and depth
the prior eve past -

grief buried in long
hard ohs, nothing
sweet save release -

desire quenched in
briefness, pounded
out the dates of death
of significance so
when

morning came, I
exhausted exhumed
the ghost bourn I
too many days.

I did not love you
do not, could.
You
are lovable in lost
ways and denial. So

sought I to befriend
(my conscious ever clear)
your aloof, cool smile
and yet, yes, know I that

sometimes in the end
all a good soul needs
is a good rutting fuck

even though feckless
I sought friendship
perhaps where I should
not.


october left me - cold

I can see
how it seemed,
my thirty-five to his
forty-three; I think
perhaps
he thought
me
a young girl in need
(of attention)
of warning,
"don't fall
for me" as if I
were still
the green
of grass,
not jade -
perhaps that was par-t
of the flattery.


then came january

January comes
wash, rinse, repeat;
acknowledge
not I draw you,

let me hide my
words as if they
never were never
more; have jade
mounted, silver

setting, solitaire.


Monday, May 01, 2006

I am not a poet

On the rarity I may profess
myself of the wordsmithing
fate, creed, ilk, passion,
doomed. I am not a writer
I am not a poet. I am an 'an':

American
Texan
Woman
Human

with the innate need
to express, forge my steel
of the heart, mind and soul.


ideally

If I could I would
write the day away,

devote all
my passions to
the seduction of
a single sole; his
downfall would I
scheme and plot,
no chance no
chance at all against
little me almighty.

Thusly he would
draw his lot.

But alas I cannot
so pursue I in
passions depth,
knowledge of which
I lack adept. I
will teach, I will
write and take my
solace in the odd
love on cold nights;

flesh on flesh find
my foe - falling
short of ideals yet
filling full my desire.


Sunday, April 30, 2006

I am

Strangely
void
of
words
and
thought.


Friday, April 28, 2006

calendar girl
Nostalgic for my youth and yet
it fell apart so fast,
spring and May could never last
so free. I do recall its' briefness
in bits and barnacles
clung too fast beneath the willow,

the magnolia
tree;
rain on the window once
soft

was I, young heart
still unhardened by death, divorce
secrets and lies. And in
this my late summer eve turn I
toward autumn sighs
in longings thought left aside.

Where will I be, come
into my December, old age calling?
Friends about? Lovers?
Or will I leave soft asleep, words
fallen from fingers by
the bedside as I read dark nights?

youth in tomes and
translate to thier time.

backlog

Monday, April 24, 2006
my heart

Oh how
my heart beats
loud lately...
boom-ba-boom,
base and drums -
wapow! In a
little flutter,
tick-tick-tick;

desire
for my southern
summer to come, in heat
of passion for hot concrete
the burning and the quenching
thereof, a

restlessness
to write; so much in
my head feels fine
and sure, ready to be
freed,


in search of
transcendence sweetly,
the word "God" strangely
comforting though so far
am I from the norm it is
aloof, surreal
misleading to
the socio-god-kin, damned
that ever I learned
the term: prevalent
social
ideology

and fell into
the love of Marxist theory,
bare, buttock raised high
ready for that first
sting of flesh
on
flesh.

Oh how
my heart beats
loud lately...
boom-ba-boom,
base and drums -
wapow! In a
little flutter,
tick-tick-tick.



Sunday, April 23, 2006
untitled

In shallow breaths
I breathe the breadth
of continuum; shake on
oxygen intake, eyes
a blur. I stir the heart
to beat
ba-boom
ba-boom
tick-tick-tick. Time.



Saturday, April 22, 2006
i can almost...

I think I can transcend
neither of the body
nor mind
nor spirit
but by bringing together

the whole to include Eros
and soul.

its just there behind my
eyes on the tip of tongue
in gentle sighs and aches.

point blank notly
I tend to know what I should say before go,
ahead, before I think a thing and how
it should
will
can
possibly
then probably or not
play out.
Oft times my mind cries dont go there!
but in rebuttal the heart demands but I want
I want
and she gets for she has got so little in
a priori and prior.

Therefore the question is
Alas poor Peach,
to allude or not to allude!
(As I hold the skull to light...)
Do I guide to the ends in mind or step
lightly back in laughter
let it be - although all and both
is done in laughter, coos, boom-ba-boom,
wants and needs -

Either screws the thing, the girl,
you see and yet
the being screwed is really in
the minds ability to follow
the domino affect through

(She has played out lifetimes never lived.)

Rather sucks for all;
but there is more than one path up to
the mountain tops scenic view: some
lay in gentle walks; others with rig
and rope; a spanking or two; maybe

scrabble.

Take a sip a tea, love, deep breathe.

My stress is money,
if I had some I would hire
a person to take care of it all...and me to boot.

I was just thinking, what was I thinking?
Ah yes, of my appetite, my voracious eyes;
my plate feels full in panic, I am well pleased
and yet my philosophy could be seen a tease.

I found, am finding myself
ego and id at play so soft it shines
on my face and glow of my skin.

Thats what you see, want, although
it probably helps that I have
tits
and ass
and legs that never end. oh yes
and grey matter enough to spar albeit brief
(for comes a shiny and I am off
on a different thought smiling.)

Can you
and you
and you
and yes even you accept me slightly -
non-conformist view?

Until ready, I cannot, will not
be consumed and even then
consumption may be past and beyond me
for I wrap up sweetly letting
the pleasure of words flow
through me.



Friday, April 21, 2006
flow

Is goddamn hot in this forge
'specially in the long
drawn
heat
of my blessed August in Texas.

mmm...
but my arms grow strong
my lungs breathless-ah,
my repartee slick like a tack
or is it sharp like grace. Damn.

But I strike hammer to raw word
and blowoh holy shit can I blow
molten golden sand into sweet, sweet
gl-ass.
yeah that's what I meant, glass.
(Though I admit to a keen distraction
of and by shiny things and naked ass.)

Wordsmith-y, Wordsmith-y
I toil
double bubble toil and trouble, I trouble
them thangs - fret no end -

iron into eagles,
rills into thrills flowing through
soft coos and giggles into

boom-ba-boom, (that's me heart)
on a pitter-pat groove I open
and the mountains spill
out.


struggle within socio-conformist bounds

I slipped full into
the moonlight waxing,
waning poetic. Not
everything is about
you
or you
or you
or yes, even you.
Just
some things that crowd
my mind; plate full
I simmer, stillness all
afire...

(Double, double,
toil and trouble;
Fire burn and

tummy a rumble, -God
I hope it's gas-

It is the east
Arise fair sun and kill
the envious moon.)

...or will my heart stretch
that wide;
or does it need reprieve.
But I ask you, Ra,
Is it really good to want
things?



Thursday, April 20, 2006
the healing art

My older brother who is younger than I,
finally do days pass when oft
you are found in nary a trace thought.

I twirl in my new found peace.


little ditty

One cannot scout out
to feed thy muse but wait
for offerings left upon thy plate.
Fluidity
In dedication to one who would term himself a lesser diety while I would name him Ra; he is too humble of his breadth of being and how brightly he shines;


Fluidity

When the day
is said and done
each of all our friends
gone
home having had their fun,
turn to me in thought
and send
a smile that
touches sweet, no end
and only
then is my heart complete
and may I sleep;

do not ever fear
my Gentle-Heart, to
want and yet not; I
am here and near
always
and in
this life let us cling
to friendship's folly
something fierce,
deep and calm, for
I am me, you are you, and we
are simply two
in a multitude of many.
Oh how
blessed is the concept of fluidity?



Wednesday, April 19, 2006
mercy

I was almost glad
(heart beating wild)
when the link didn't load.
I mean
what
the
fuck
was I doing?
But I deliberately copied
pasted
the link, read on.

I think I wanted
to cry, wanted
to remind myself
I know how to feel. That I
am genuine and not some
now and then
"hey what up".


seeds in fragmentation

I awoke at 5:33
face down
struggling in seemingly
a drugged-out stupor,

(I dont do drugs.)

my body restless from
a molting mind:

a)
I am not the brain you think I am;
conceptually I stumble brief taking
many readings to comprehend
on occasion and other times I could
explain
before
you get the first
word out.
I call it being blonde.
I call it being me.

b)
It hurts.
That you didnt.
Get to know me.

c)
There is something in your eyes
your words sadly somber, your
ecstasy comes across too cool.

d)
Today I am ravenous to feed
on thoughts and words and sinew
I can almost taste the blood of teeth
sinking sweetly into flesh anew.

I know the meaning of hunger.
I know the meaning of denial;
it's a river in Egypt land.

e)
She calls to
f
l
u
t
t
e
r
b
y
s, its in
the sweetness of her skin
the challenge in her eyes
the essence of her sighs.
They drink, she smiles
they fly goodbye.
She lyrically lay prone,
prophetic, poetic.



Tuesday, April 18, 2006
three thoughts on tuesday

Call me thy Peach

I have four names
someday mayhap
I shall have five
and even still may
revere my youth
and drop to three.

Regardless of calling,
move I forward on
the wind
woosh-woosh.


Deja entre nous

Your specificity lay in keen
insightful remarks but off
and away, ambiguity does
suffice, endear, and

unlike my lover last when
you are here you are
here
when not you are near. He
was simply far-between-
away.


Alliterati

They call it crush cause
it kills, it hurts and they
call it falling for it feels
like skinned knees coming
clean; only may we heal
later, much later after
the embedding of concrete
bits in flesh picked clear.



Monday, April 17, 2006
lost my place

Forced myself to sleep
now lost is my train
of thought and sense
of relatedness to all.

I feel fuzzed, sweat
pooling tween breasts
too heavy, fans not
enough to quench
yet sure enough to
please...
with words and the
whir of blades humming



Sunday, April 16, 2006
passions do beat


My passions do beat
off,
breathe, sleep and eat
like Texas heat, my love
since I was just a babe.

Yet bring me soft waves
of temperate ardor now
and again that in solitude
I may recall how full

felt I in the midst of it all.
dreamt i of flesh
Dreamt I of
a smooth expanse of flesh
flush cheeks
as hands crawl across cool
soft sheets
to reach and
I awoke

so hot I could not sleep
throbbing
to familiar back beats
boom-ba-
boom was me and thee
tinkling
keys that faded off, sweet
my muse
was fed and hungers still.
logic of emotion
In visage
the dream
of which
young girls
lose sleep:
in Soul
warmed
I slept
sound for
Young I was
never.


up the mountain

I foresee want
on the horizon
in the distance.

There is want now
as much as allows
by knowledge
yet
intellect of sex is
only on the outs
when skittish

the heart folds
for it governs
this being taut.

I pushed the last
pushed till away
he went sooner

whereas perhaps
it may have been
later, but I in my

infinite wisdom
want a thing
cut
and dry,
May I temper
thee on the path
up the mountain.

Yet also may I
find my keep.

fly away
people come
people see
they get they need
they stretch, form.
then they move on

and it's alright.



Saturday, April 15, 2006
something was lacking

I remember when I had
an extra pair of hands
to help fold the sheets
only they never did.

I recall when I had
an extra pair of ears
to listen to my sorrow
only they were deaf.

there was strength
with which to carry me
weakened from the start,

there were arms
with which to hold me
less capable than his heart.

But mostly do I recall
the extra pair of eyes
to see me for myself
but they of course

blindly led me to
the decision to divorce.


funny where you find things...

Brief but in the mind
flickers bright thought
of something coming
on the make barely;
You, lid on contained
I swelling to the spill.

Both in flux, we press
the tease, tongue sweet
on flesh in the eves
we meet and breeze
sheets a tangle, please.

Friday, April 14, 2006
untitled
Tea grows cold
as I stop in reply.

My heart blocks
at points (protecting)
it knows not to pass
so I am only able
to want as deep
as I am let, yet
love as deep
as I require. I stop

in thought, fingers
on lips as I gaze
out across the sky,
tea cool and sweet.

I drunk deep, stretch
and form the words.