2005When I'm skinnyAll the world is hungry for my flesh,Trouble is then there is less...of me to go around.It makes me dizzy,You know I must confess,Sometimes I don't know if I'd prefer to be meatier, fat,Happy?Sound.No one wants me then,When I am well rested,Well slept, well fed, well dressed,I am too fierce then,Too intense,So they… Continue reading Sorrow’s Mistress
they owe to some obsession they deny most every moment, to some expansive chasm they are unable to cross they sit back from some place of stuffing the void with those medications that surround me on my desk some kind of decadence wrapped in yellow papers, placed in brown paper bags, laced with the aroma… Continue reading Some Obsession.
August 2008 The Castle Rose The Queen was in seclusion, Following delusions Of having seen something real. Ol’ Blue Eyes, The King of Mass Appeal, Sinatra singing Witchcraft, She guessed that was the last laugh, Spin the Ferris Wheel, Place your bets, What can we make her feel? What she regrets? Cut the deal, steal… Continue reading The Castle Rose or Fractured Fairy Tales in the Void
We talk to each other like strangers, in carefully scripted architecture, allegedly, to keep from hurting, others or ourselves. Breaking off little pieces of conversation to shove around and share and salivate over like delicate, intricate morsels of emotion, so much more valuable than common flesh in today's market. Real human feelings, "real" being… Continue reading Strangers
Waking… May 10, 1994 The sweet smell of honeysuckle rested on an evening breeze outside the open window. Looking down the driveway to the street, in the dim glow of the footlights, I could almost see it. There was something dangerously familiar about it all. My head swam a little as I took a… Continue reading Honeysuckle.
Adam’s Rib July 17, August 6, 1994 They were holding hands, This old woman and man, Rocking in time, Fingers knotted, Entwined, She spun out a rhyme. The old man raised an eyebrow, As she began to tell it so, Every word he knew he’d know, All the same, he let her go. “I remember.”… Continue reading Adam’s Rib
don't, like, bust my chops man, if i speak too much before i think, if all the awkward bits end up in the sink, it just means i'd say anything to say anything to you
She realized that it had been the purple flowers, and the flowers of her mourning, that had kept her from writing for so long, that had kept her from herself.~ Was she painting her roses red? Were they red from the beginning? She had hidden them away with herself like so much contraband. The… Continue reading The Red.
If we had these roses, If we had these roses, What would they take away with them, if we had those moments that we never had and always had, back again, mistletoe and snow and all the things that glow into the gleaming distraction of buttons and bows, parades, pageants and shows, where it stops… Continue reading If We Had These Roses.
Tiger Lily March 2009 You don’t know the way I’ve broken for you, You don’t know what this has done to me, This love, This longing, This belonging, To you, For so long. You don’t know how much I love, How much I can, What I’m capable of, What I give, What I am,… Continue reading Tiger Lily
"Anything too stupid to be said is sung." ~ VoltaireI have a really hard time believing that Voltaire said this but would Good Earth Tea lie to me?
Keep me close to you, this night my darling dear...the light shone through the window too brightly, keeping me awake, I had not noticed the date. I rest my head upon the pillow of your chest and hope beyond hope, I close the windows and the doors and wait for morning...If I told you the… Continue reading Moonlight…
Photo of a Melting Time Machine. Photo Credit, White Cube Time Machine, An Ode to H.G. Wells We extend out from ourselves like ripples in a pond from a drop of rain, a stone, but these ripples sometimes intersect with other ripples, sometimes they escape the shore, reaching beyond. Our existence is part and… Continue reading Time Machine.
Wolf If I gave in and crumbled, tumbled down like night falling into your arms, would you catch me and put the stars back in the sky? What if I am not as strong as you would want me to be? I’m not interested in being twisted by a dare. I’m afraid to care too… Continue reading Wolf
How does one endure such distance? Is it true that you have grown to hate me? How would I know otherwise? As I am left with no more than the memory of a kiss so torturous it burns my very soul. Am I no more to thee than is a ball of string unto… Continue reading A Tangent to Hamlet.
Let Them Eat Cake February 21, 2008 The words are on the tip of my tongue, I can’t quite feel them to spit them out, numb. What I want to say is more profound than I can comprehend in any way I could present in colorfully turned phrases or wanton metaphor, metaphor is an… Continue reading let them eat cake.
The City, the weather turning now. The Harvest Moons rising high against the edge of the water. Boats rocking against the piers. Tankers and cargo ships anchored in the bay, the waves pushing against the locks. Giant glowing balloons beckoning the bounty of Autumn shorn from the surface of the plentiful terrain, loaded into the… Continue reading Autumnal Equinox.
Neck arched, head to the Heavens, eyes to the sky, arms outstretched, ready to fly, The rattle that had been the death of the last breath climbing Steady, Up the sturdy thighs, Through the curve of the pelvis, Rolling thunder. The small of her back, Up a slightly crooked spine, So divine, Tingling in between,… Continue reading Thelxiepeia.
in a place where worlds collidewhere shoreline meets the evening bridewhere waves are licking at the skywhere heroes come to live and die.
The Reincarnation of a Wax-Winged Bird Shakalini Marsini, not his real name, Flew down from the ceiling, Lookin for a bone to pick But they were all taken. What was left was only dust, Not enough to mix with water and make a bust, Of himself to put on the shelf. Placed next to some… Continue reading The Reincarnation of a Wax Winged Bird.
Is it that I sometimes limp? My bump top foot? Dry skin? My belly? Less than ample Amplitudes? My knees? The way I sneeze? Is it, perchance, my posture? A little lacking now, Under all of this? Is my frustration, exhaustion Beautiful? Wouldn't a mail order bride Be more suitable? She could learn to cook,… Continue reading Lionel Ritchie
11-26-95Black boots, blue jeans, white t-shirt,James Dean.Black hat, white horse,Minus the armor,Of course.A stolen rose, a stolen rhyme,It happens to me every time,But pour the wine,Fill my cup full,Lie to me,I’m gullible.Say the things I long to hear,Give me hope then disappear.Deny, deny, deny, deny,Who said those things?Did I? Did I?Well, listen up and dig… Continue reading Black Boots.