backdraft

heavy comes the day

heavy comes the day
the night

heavy comes life

panic in the becoming

a responsible social
un-outcast

responsibility breeds
conformity, conformity
breeds responsibility

it's all a tie down

bile in the pit rising
and I want to spit, panic

- in love is freedom
- away
- from time filling

the spirit that endeavors
to persevere
is not the one that burns
in the sun bright smiling.



she turns neatly

five and a half
months going on sad
so in love and yet
she sought the end

too bi-polar/unsure
she wants the constant high
and in reciprocation oodles

she dreams of madness

could only step so neat away
with lash perturbing
never coming free
she blinks

she pokes and prods and
scratches nervous, unfocused
laughing full deep

mousy

not that long-legged blonde
she thinks you need

but will never know
cause you never really said.



Monday, February 12, 2007

pales despotic

Her mind too often comes round to him;
the object of her affection more than whim
and the parting on her hard. She wanted

to seek solace in the attention of others and
admits to the smallest shallow bone. Saved;

a brother in arms, neat beside her, kept
comfort where the others drew aloof and
she steps brief inside to need no other. All

the while Sorrow sings soft you are loved
pales despotic against you are wanted.



Tuesday, February 06, 2007

wish you were here

missing:

my brother and family

wish
you were here
wish
I had had you once.



Monday, February 05, 2007

solipsist

I was humming
Suo Gan in the grocery store
in disturbing clarity. But

I am not a singer;
my voice was made
for coos and soft pleases,
my body much the same,

and a heart that wants

it all.



Friday, February 02, 2007

this morning weary

This morning, weary
eyes returned my gaze;

I thought of mother
of sister, their eyes

slight with madness. And
though I have their smile

belaying sweetness,
in my eyes I see only

sadness of rare occasion
coming through. Yet

like their burdens, mine
plead to find a heart

to understand, to sooth
to bring me home.



Monday, January 29, 2007

death be not proud

Oh Death, be not proud
but come a beggar
thief in the night

thief in the day, wet
kiss on too cool lips

a blessed step into
that longest goodnight.

No, Death, be not proud
for those that remain
slay You in memoriam

of laughter and sweetest
passions to live, to love.



Wednesday, January 17, 2007

feeling things out

I asked him, "do you wanna go steady?"
he says to me, "yes, no, maybe,
do you wanna live in a…

mansion,
apartment
shack
shed,
please check one…"



Wednesday, January 10, 2007

roughhousing

We were roughhousing
but the tears fell;
there was pain
in my heart
that sought voice

and it manifest in tears.

You kissed them away,
away shushing, regret;
I felt small, cherished,
hurt diminishing
in your arms and words.

Our twilight tête-à-tête
discovering much
disclosing thoughts;
I don't know tomorrow
but want more today.

And oh but I wanted
to ask what to do,
what you want of me;
seek guidance
in your wisdom,

for you are wise. (Though
you know as much as I.)

And I want you to realize
my need, my pain, also
that you are a wonder
to me, and it is conceivable
I want you justly. Today.



on existance

I know I've said some of this before, but...I'm feeling introspective and wanting more time from my lover...but not the world, not yet...
Every relationship has a time and place, a depth and duration, a purpose.
There are no answers and we can only know these things once all is said and done.
And sometiems...sadly but fortunately, we realize the myriad and infinite possibilities become an even more limited number of potential probablities and once decisions are made, freadom of choice becomes fate...
and life can only unfold the way it will.
But I want to exist in this moment a while longer and beg the Fates let me.



Wednesday, January 03, 2007

death allows me to love

He, my older brother
now younger than I, he…
looked to me for hope –
his savior. But I failed.

I spoke the words,
signed in ink like blood
and watched his life
painfully slip away.

As if this weren't enough
when the time came I…
I left him with Dad and others –
friends surrounding, yes.

But it was in me that hope
was misplaced and I left him.
I left him in his dying.
Guilt I suppose and

sadly, always will I carry
death in my heart, never
knowing that I will ever
let it go, that it will free me.

But death, you see, allows
me to love desperately
and passionately – as me.



Tuesday, January 02, 2007

in my heart i am home

There is stillness in the damp
of the earth
but a few branches sway
gently as I glean
the myriad complexity,
calm of the scene.

Out my backdoor comes the birds
comes their song
Out on the front porch
the baby Gecko suns.

Softly, suddenly, contentment I find;
not so much in this place
as in my heart, the girl I've become,
with friends surrounding
and love found – my new darling.

Yes, home is where the heart is
and in my heart I am home.



Tuesday, December 19, 2006

in my lover's touch

yester-eve in my lovers touch
I stopped to breathe,

the myriad cacophony,
of a mind's day simply,

beatifically, hushed;

Came the light, came
the day, and almost

did I blush overlong,
cling too fast, love too much,

verily did I sleep too soft,
his nearness…

his nearness…
and my thought trailedd off.



Monday, December 18, 2006

on turning thirty-seven

Used to think I was moving t'ward somethin'
when birthdays came around.
Now there's an uncomforting squeaze
like pants so tight cain't breathe.

Thirty-seven feels strange
and I am suddenly
in more thought than once
when afeared of shadows
that come too close.



Wednesday, December 13, 2006

stop, breathe, believe

sometimes
we hear what we want to hear
believe what we want to believe

he is guilty of this
I am guilty of this

but I see
he wears his self-depreciation
on his sleeve

I bear my insecurity in constant messaging.
we two kindred spirits stretching

stop, breathe, believe;
have fun with it, together be free.



Monday, December 11, 2006

only we can give our dreams breath

the ties that bind the mind that sets you free
settling down finding freedom
getting married committing to wanting the best for him
and honesty and validation
buying a house exploring life
social perception my reality

only we can give our dreams breath



Friday, December 08, 2006

madness stirs

on the brink of joy
madness stirs
…and fear

and I am restless

life no longer
holding me intent

not when
I have glimpsed

more

and drunk morning
dew from lips sweet



Thursday, December 07, 2006

entangled

told him
I'm scared of him

my voice felt meek
psyche timid

he didn't reply
in words

but held me
overlong

too sweet
cheek pressed

against my hair
arms and hands

entangled
he said hush now

sleep
and I slept



Wednesday, December 06, 2006

freedom

Don't fall in love with you?
she asked in startlement;
No, no, I said don't fall
off the bed, he replied in patience.

Freedom is throwing off the shackles of shoulds
for the good and natural and real.



Monday, December 04, 2006

moonshadows

He gazed on me

bathed in moonshadows.

I beheld my own breasts
waist, hip – cool flesh
beneath his too hot touch –
I beheld my own beauty
through his caress and gaze,

mouth and words. I tried

to crawl inside him

as deep as he is in me.



Thursday, November 16, 2006

tremble in the cold - revised

I want to lay with you
half revealed in twilight,
our nakedness entwined
and swaddled unkempt

– your cigarette aglow,
"this is the good stuff"
I say soft, sweet
are my lips on you –

shoulders bared,
I tremble in the cold
against your heat
as wet beneath, sweat
streams in tiny rivulets.



Thursday, November 09, 2006

opportunity

the round room
is all doors;
watch me
see if i don't
find a window
to pry open and
crawl free.



Tuesday, November 07, 2006

tremble in the cold

I want to sit with you
half revealed in twilight

your cigarette aglow

"this is the good stuff"
sweet, my lips on you

tremble in the cold
against your heat.


remember when the glass shattered - unfinished

Remember when the glass shattered and I said I was sorry?
The ligament in my thumb was cut to the bone, never quite healing.
It took two shots and it still didn't numb so I said do it anyway
and eight stitches and a month later, I had a scar that ached in the rain.

Remember when the glass shattered and I said I was sorry? And
in the moment you missed your race but I held through the pain – no tears –
only later to weep and pick up the heart you cut from me with your tongue,
your anger spilling over me like acid all that time, but I never bittered.

Years passed and finally I came to understand it was selfishness;
You said it was selfishness and I said that's not a good reason.
All those years of emotional stitches, no, it was not a good reason.

Remember how my heart shattered and I said I was sorry?
Well I am not sorry for those years of anger though I know you are.
They did not toughen me but instilled in me a knowledge that
sometimes hearts must break before they can be stitched and mend.


on occasion death haunts me

That night I dreamt of
blood drips from fingertips
as I leaned back into a doze
not knowing whence such
intense feelings flooded.

Tell me did the water wash
your sins away, Stevie Ray?
Is that how you went? And

how could I feel your spirit
slip and slide, release
from so very far away when
my own brother I saw
screaming to an empty room?
All he left? A hollow shell.



Monday, November 06, 2006

three from sunday

hum, hum, hum
the machine whirs
soft and low.

the birds chirp
in tiny thrills.

the soft moan
of you coming
undone.

every day

cherished sounds.

I stop in the moment;
open my heart, my mind.

I may never hear
these things again

but I will never lose them.


II

I can bare my joy
blindly to the world

but my pain? my fear?

I lick like crumbs
from the plate

and swallow

with sweet hot tea
slowly.


III

give me your todays
and let tomorrow lay
in your trust and keep
that I would follow.



Friday, November 03, 2006

(dream of you?) I do...

I
I want to touch your face
in pools of midnight
endlessly.


II

Yes, I have sung songs of crushes
soft to lovers lost and left
(this past year in celibate verse).

Yet in present passion's keep it is
of you, sweetheart, to wit
for which my heart hums in bliss.


III

Will you still desire me if
I let you see my socks?
Fuzzy monkey socks
warm in black and tan?


IV

You still the thoughts
of endless chatter
that drive me dense,

draw my focus
taught, intense,
into the beauty of
a freckle's depth
and soft fine hairs
my nose caressed,

and stir my mouth
to water and libido
to long.
It is in
you I quench
my thirst for which
only you are the punch

(the cookies, the paste
after the nap devoured
in haste).


V

I want to give you only sweetness,
the last drop for you to suck
from the tip of my tongue
with your last breath.

Only I can neither speak of last breaths
nor allow myself to want,
but live in the moment afeared
that happiness finally is here.


Thursday, November 02, 2006

the cube

Current mood: the object of patience
this was an excercise from a book. i believe both are called teh cube. i'm not posting the exercise. after the exercise, we were told what the objects we were told to envision mean. some chose cubes of wood, cubes of light, fluctuating cubes...here is mine and afterward, the...unveiling that i am still puzzling over.

in a slight impression of sand the cube lay
masaic cuts in metal gleaming
like the sun in shattered bright array
large as life yet upon approach
no larger than the nail of my thumb…
and leaning on the Palm close by, a ladder of Ash. Foreign to these tropical shores and old even during the youth of man.
Not a yard past it all, a stead, nineteen hands tall and pale as the moon. Nosing the earth, his bright eye's glistening, eyeing me, eyeing the cube, ignoring the ladder, ignoring…
the storm the sand swirling in funnels skittering about, funnels like tornadoes feeding sand into the deep.
I stepped about the cube toward my stead. His gaze now steady, a myriad soft blue morning glories springing from his main; one, two, three…
while the funnels flitter off and away.

the cube is me
the ladder is my friends
the horse is my lover
the storm is trouble
the flowers are children



Wednesday, November 01, 2006

new month steady (a little ditty fairly shakespeare-esque)

he said bye, bye butterfly
as she flittered off into a new day
sustained on nectar sweet
and cheecks blushed of but a two hours' sleep.

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.