love's been little bit hard on me

no longer
angel of the morning, angel
no longer
goodbye goodluck girl
no more
electric demons breathing fire

You had a hold on me right from the start...

Nirvana et le petite morte
she'd reach, intense the touch
always too deep perhaps
though the surface dwelt
fire tactile and free
boundaries predetermined

This is not unlike the others yet
underlying there is a stillness
calm her heart beats
fire not but embers glowing

caged, her heart thrums
no bounds she knows
into the mouth of madness
toward the unknown falling.

"I say I don't love you, but you know I'm a liar" ~ The Pointer Sisters, Fire

Four weeks since July 31, 2017

la dolce vita

we stop to eat slowly

words and more words

laughter and more laughter

film forgotten on the big screen

not three feet away

relegated to the odd glance

until sleep beckons and flesh

is too tired to think after

hours lingering, touching, legs akimbo

hours of fingertips falling gently

living la dolce vita

she slips into the halflight

hand on slim hip spooning

drunk on kombucha

drunk on kombucha

early in the day

or is it love?

the admittance of a

quite probably high

and hefty crush

lingering...

Her inquiring heart wants

to know…

slow ride

somewhere somehow
in the shucking of jive for coin
she forgot she writes

preemptive seeds or more on the goodbye girl

seeking solace deep

in her 

your darkest secrets

unburdened 

in the ghosting

her walkabout stirs

gut feelings or no, not this one

je sais

je sais

mais en ce moment

avec lui

avec mon 

coeur douloureux

je veux
---------------------
I know 
I know 
but in the moment
with him
with my
heart pained
I want...

making room

In the 1951 one-car garage

My car fits snug

In the split closets in the master bedroom

My meager wardrobe hits wall-to-wall

In my heart

My two fur-girls hold the space

I never filled…

then the leaving

on the eve

of the morrow

of fifty-one

and fifteen years since

we last spoke in tongues

your eyes wide then the leaving

Happy Birthday, Brother

poem for artist & poet John Sokol

I see you

little bits of

your heart

your mind

your soul in the scratch-scratch

sent through the post after

I had the audacity to pay extra for shipping of

your ink and ganache flora

I see what you did there

I see you

in Comfort

in The Shadow of One

your words reach me, yet;

I don’t know you at all

deep blue yonder

that girl, who was not green
perhaps you were the first to go

47

be still
look about
turtle-up
she's an all or nothing girl

waking

sleeping dirty
deep in the chill
of a half lit room
waking
to a cold sweat
clammy
legs akimbo
reaching across cool sheets
to a vacant bed
humming...
reaching...
into the universe
aching....
ready....


"In the world you're so far away
I would reach out
and touch your heart..."
Room at the Top ~Tom Petty

the other

living at the speed of light
the slowing
the norming
dissonance and discordance
the other, the lighten-ing
became the norm
and in the re-norming
she's unmoored,
she's come undone

dating in 2017 or happy being single

I’m an overly educated kid-free tattooed Agnostic vegetarian born and raised in Texas. I also just turned 47 and I’m not quite sure how the h*** that math happened, but it has, and I’m here, and it’s a good place to be. I love my dogs, my friends, the people I work with. I love my job, my career. I wake up each day excited to get there and do the stuff I do then get home and do what I do at home. Could be Netflix, jigsaw puzzles, tearing something down, or building something up. 

I’m average. I have an average life. I own a car and house, and have dogs that poop. I pay bills, do chores, read books, muck about in the yard. I love to eat and cook and nap and eat again. This sums it up. Nothing fancy, nothing idealistic. I own my own shit, negotiate interest rates like a pro and have little debt. I may not retire until I’m 75 for the sheer fact that my life goal is to be of service. Novel idea, I know, but it’s not all about me, or you. 

I’m a f****** adult. Not sure how that happened either, but it has. I don’t drop everything to travel spontaneously every weekend. I don’t have an endless stream of photos of me drinking in bars. Been there, done that. Travel gets planned; going out, like ice cream, is a treat not a habit. This means that first long drink of an ice cold Shiner along with a big bowl of homemade gumbo on a hot Texas day while chilling with my best friend and surveying my kingdom from the back porch is one of life’s precious moments. Mostly I like to sleep my 9 hours and coo sweetly to my two four-legged loves.

I weigh anywhere between 110 and 120 on any given day depending on how much I eat and was stick thin for so long, this mini-muffintop ain’t going nowhere anytime soon. I’m okay with that. I’m me and looking for a guy who is his own person and not owned by extreme conformity and social norms. Someone who says, “come on, put your cold-ass feet on me, I’ll warm you up” and respects me enough to take out the trash if it’s full without being asked, massage my neck when I have an allergy headache, lay on the couch when he’s sick and act like a big 'ol baby so I’ll bring him soup, because I will.  I will spoil the right guy to no end and when he spoils me I’ll say thank you, and mean it, because the thrill of chivalry and adoration is not dead, and I will not settle for less.