My Window

The view from glass towers is the same as from gutters below -
skewed, distorted figures
as if fairies and giants create new forms bulging from old,
towering and shrinking from view,
punctured wings bent, and shoulders heavy carry the weight.
For a solitary moment, dazzling light catches perfection,
an observed perception
honestly hollowed by wind and fire,
never the same pattern twice sprouts new life,
I came home to find their toes in my window
and all they wanted was to eat
to fill-up on all I had to offer,
dine with divine scoundrels if you want to be served.

 

Domesticity In the Background

She walks
impervious to silent stares
daggers thrown and dodged
too many voices to decipher
on her own lying down
cracked brick feels worn
out she comes with no suit for hiding
and nets conceal no flesh.

Held her tongue for 7 years
kept the eminent hidden
tried to fit an unknown mold
placed hat upon hat on her head
hoping to find the right fit
something to pull over her eyes
deep enough to sink into,
covering ears too, lean in to listen.

Silence leaked
a hiss from a kettle whistle,
you hear it but quickly tune it out,
and it becomes just another noise
domesticity in the background,
moments of discomfort fade
as soon as someone else takes care of
the noise, the mess slumped in a dress.

Recipient of Singed Seams

My thoughts are a cacophony
of choruses ringing
inside a layer of haloed voices,
they cut like lasers coming around
to shine upon my mind’s eye
so loud along the edges
scorching too quickly to turn away
I stand, taking the heat.

I see the world outside my window
screen light haunts me,
reflecting all that I am
and all that I am not,
I fade away in a spotlight
I become a channel
the voices turning to you
recipient of singed seams
attempted escape causing friction.

My gut wrenches
tightening on sour words
held fast for fear of falling,
no one knows what is in the darkest night
except for my little halo and me,
each revolution burns a little brighter
the voices are getting tighter
acerbic points jab my temples
leaving wounds that all can feel.
 

Remedy

I use to feel like you
all coal ash and bitterroot
deflowered fruit, no joy
found the festive gross
walked alone, morose
fattened on my own
I know your verse.

To reach beyond dark edges
the light beyond, past the “if”
I chose to stay I choose to play,
my child’s eyes shining
simple wishes within my reach
lessons I can learn and teach
give into and grow.

Give back to the debt I owe
of joy, love, tender sugar
powder my lips, blushed
blood rushing in the heat of my chest
pushes light inward
cellular joy, modest pleasures
an oasis in my desert.

It is hope I tend in my garden
a reason to go on
invest in possibilities
never give up on love as a utility
it is within me, my ability
to nestle and trust is a must
if we are ever to remedy this curse.

Feeling as Heavy as Child's Play

Some days the weight of the world
is barely visible
rolls right off
like a giant raindrop
fizz plop,
by the time it registers
it’s gone and the weight
falls again, heavy and light
maybe, leaves a spot
water droplet on your hair,
left over love in your heart.

The world moves on
feeling as heavy
as child’s play in the Gravitron
pressed down
into a gravitational pull
holding your breath
trying not to hurl
the cacophony of your mind
like fuzzed out metal
blaring through you, spin
hoping to stop.

You weigh-in somewhere in between,
ribbon tied to helium filled Mylar
flying aloft carried by wind
while the weight stays
connected to my hand,
you in my heart
each breeze a dance, fusing
light draws eyes upward
turning to the splendor
body reacts to the subtle tug
ribbons, heart strings.

 

Shelter is Waiting

The springtide came without relief, floating,
for ennead months my heart was held aloft
like the bulbous morning clouds
releasing light slowly blushing,
on the edges glowing,
leaden grey underneath
the possibility of dissipation prayed for.

My voice, the summer winds
carrying seeds to grow
words whispered over currents
inside secret packages
waiting for torrential showers
to release their treasures held
sealed from potential destruction.

I, a tree, died in descent
my heart lost outer layers
received collateral damage on the way down
confusion leads to clarity
but not first without discomfort
roots pulled taut with pressure
new growth burning at the tips.

Twilight approaches, long shadows
stretched out behind me in trails of obscurity
blend into encroaching darkness
woodland merges into earth
retreat to lair of tranquility
where warmth radiates from within
and shelter is waiting.

Left Standing In the Hall in a Tween Time Curse

I awoke in a fog of dreams and dark mornings
a faint memory of seeing you sitting on the floor
a long ago memory combined with now
and you were in top form, on stage again,
touring America, muddled motel rooms
engagements at the mall.

The poet of the people convincing the masses
to engage with you in reflection
read your words with inflection,
I heard that giggle that always makes me smile.
Suitcase opened on the bed, head hanging low
reaching for the laces of your shoes,
you looked up, dread melting – forging a smile,
a light turning on in your eyes, feeding your face
the color rising in your cheeks, glowing from within
lifting your lips you spoke, tender.

“Hey Girl, where you been?” is all you said,
words losing meaning and purpose as energy
lifted my feet off the ground and into clouds
separating the earth from my soul, I knew I was dreaming.
Left standing in the hall in a tween time curse
the pressure of life began to beckon from the darkness,
but all I heard was the rumble of the road calling my name.

Lost Boys

I called for respite and saving,
a bangarang at midnight swooped in,
my lost boys who all played pretend.
If you give a homeless musician
a place to sleep in your garage
he will bring the bike rider of the country to rest,
and he will ask for an amp while you lay on his chest.
If you give him an amp, another will appear
with duffle bag and musical gear.
Funtaker, played horn all day and all night,
soon two more showed up at the back door.
Senior Senior and a boy named Sue
with vintage ties and sad puppy dog eyes
singing out of tune melodies on updated children’s toys
of days in the Valley and escaping just in time.
If you allow them to stay
and of course why wouldn’t they,
a merriment will ensue, along will come two
or three who sneak in the backdoor to shower
and pour your finest wine or more.
One last mouse came to the nest
desperate for a dry place to rest
and snuggled as one on top of the steps,
waiting for his place amongst the nest.
A full house emerged
while I purged over toilet bowl in the morning
I heard rumblings of men all through my head
wondered exactly what had happened.
By this time, the musician had become mine
a baby was on time to add to the lost boy enclave.
Boys who do heavy lifting saved me from stress in duress
although some lived like rats;
others cooked nightly feasts,
scrubbed the ceilings and fed the beasts.
Ducks who would bite, bunnies who might
and a dog who just wanted his bone.
All of this and more is the story untold.

 

Night Owls

You, old coot, the devil in disguise,
with grey clouds at your temples
sadness in your eyes
hide in your hovel
try to step forward from your demise
continually stuck in whatever gets you through the night.
One flesh, spirit licked to a polish shine
spit-thick pearl upon pearl, pushed flesh to the front
folded upon itself for this time.
Trickster, fantasy supreme
we should go out and scream in the streets
but instead I sit here in my comfortable abode and write.
What kind of weakened spirit chooses words over friends?
The type of depravity for making up stories instead of new dead ends.
Step back with the magic black I drew the spell tonight.
Let there be lace and a face to frame mine
a slip of a boy not quite a man.
I know this story told and told around the edges,
skirting fetish, wrapped in possibility of kisses
near misses back to square one.
On our feet on our knees, these keys never undone
never unlock having spun the prisoner of vanity and fun.

Drowning Sorrow

Words of personality disorder whispered over my shoulder
crowns of raven curls and thorny horns on the sidelines
what am I doing here? Trying to find
a brother in arms, a lover with charms
only children as far as the eye can see.
Raven haired angel, skirted boy, poison arrow
drowning our sorrows
trying to pretend the world is not burning
down to the end, sweet cherubian devil
piercing eyes and a grin
how I would love nothing more than
to run down dark alleys with you,
pretend we are caught in a painting
some long forgotten day
Paris or Berlin,
instead of the now
with black people burning the streets
mothers crying - dead children at their feet.

Sinew

Bring thin membrane spirit
the body is ill and needs healing
Find it in finery find it in finesse.
Feathered stroke through lake light
lied dormant with fleeting scars
see the tight opalescent skin,
roped sinew wrapped story tucked under
spun around to reveal torture,
vile adults, spit filth, noise starved
curse spawns curse
and then she crawled forth
dirt filling mouth
canals trenched by wooden plows
rudimentary in creation.

A Gift and A Curse

A gift and a curse I see each flicker of eye lash
each dart of vision, twitch of fingers
and look boy listen, I am not a game to be toyed with
something to tease on a whim, I am a full-fledged woman
who sees your game as it begins.
I have been down a road or two and unlike you,
I reflect on where I have come and when it is all done
I will not make the same mistake twice.

When I see you on the street I may make nice,
but that does not mean I forgive or forget
when all is said and done what did you really get
a twist of your hand and wrist to resist
ever having to look in the eyes and kiss
a woman who might expect for you
to step back and reflect,
a moment by moment tool
caught in your own demise, fool.

I wish for you peace and freedom
to look at your pain and begin
to decipher what manifests in your life
to realize you create your own strife
of broken hearts and lonely beds
of anger and choices to defend
your darting eyes as you pretend
that girl is not your unrequited love,
but your friend.

I will go on, I always do
dust myself off, take a moment or two
walk on down the road to greener views
appreciate having known you
for no relationship is a mistake
this one was a momentary escape
from life’s heavy burdens
sometimes it’s easier to pull back the curtain,
hide from the light, stand on the cliff
imagine the flight.

Greater in Blanket Than the Sum of Its Parts

A mist of clarity covers my skin,
opalescent dewdrops and rainbow prisms
upon the hair of my arms
millions of molecules create rows and canyons
not visible to your eyes.
I feel this layer, the wet sheen
greater in blanket than the sum of its part.
Silver, copper ribbon - I glow,
look into your eyes and I know
you see it all through rain and the fall,
only a moment in our lives,
it won’t be like this all the time.
You have the grace to love me through any insanity
that might smear away our nature,
turns rainbow dew drops to muddy fingerprints
and I give you my torrential rain shower
of tears and laughter, we grow this life together.

Take the Deep Breath Curled

Everyone wants a piece of me
the love and tits of me
to feed and nurture insecurity
everyone wants the mother and peace of me
no one has the decency
to lean in, take the deep breath curled
pain and softness unfurled in me.
Take the meat of me
the marrow, sweet spirit,
sour and divine of me
with tears, see bravery
the blood and sweat to see
where this insanity leads, just me.

Going Another Way

Sit down, a moment’s peace
God is outside lighting up
her frown erased by silver shadows
cast from clouds above
set-down in this place
fantastical reality in the window,
distracts, drawing my breath in quivering
blooming fire breath caught
erase the past transgressions.

Lunacy, Transparent From Above

Sweat glistens, a sheen blankets
dew upon a meadow spreading
luminescent shimmer
and the stillness is deafening
a calm settles, forms a rise and fall
as rhythm emerges, breath quakes.

Cosmos fragments basted,
limbs asunder become
lightning manifesting thunder
a deluge decants vibrations
fragrant and languid vapor
as sonorous stirring settles.

Shudder, scarcely exchange
visions on the brink
lunacy, transparent from above
carved haze, a channel
tongues unspoken for an eternity
held aflame on spears of destiny.

Thread Bare

For a golden moment
I thought I would fly
on silken threads of sunlight,
clouds falling behind me in layers
shadows drawn away,
like clothes upon the floor.

Step away from night into dawn
circling light brings darkness again
and I am caught in the threads
bare to the night and my dreams.

The Weight of Fire Burns

Playing with fire is the game I know best
holding the flame of licentious thought
lead weight upon my chest,
scanning the crowd for beauty and heart
wondering who will take part
follow my rules; choose me for a revolution
a chance part in a mirrored evolution
think outside the box
lay down upon the forest moss for talks
of universes, fingers wrapped tight around hair, locks.

The weight of fervor burns in my soul
turns a shambled life into ashen coal,
I speak of needs with worry and stress
but dreams come so easy, let me see you undress
your soul upon forest floor
peel back your skin, give me gore
our physical form is just a door
to our inner core that always wants more.
I hold the key on immoral brass ring
to momentary peace inside these things
dangled for us like yarn or string
claws retracted,
and what you think is attraction
is just a distraction
from the work you need to do.

Tune In

I am not trying to create some sort of lifestyle
my head is tuning-in to another dial.
I embrace sedition until a trial by fire
and the turpitude of your servitude
fills my mouth with bile.

I turn away, but your image I file
into my mind - drilled, the immense magnitude
of your liaison fair attitude
leaving carnage in the wake of your blunders
pretending to be some sort of transcendental wonder
when all I want to do is break free and fall under
the radar before a cut by the rudder.

Beguiled by your need to compile
things and people into an organized pile
of ownership, then carry out your denial
that you played any part in your own hostile
game of life filled with false pretense and artistic style.

I gaze and I wonder at your images, amazed
how you can live with yourself in a haze
of smoke and vanity convinced that it had to be
the only way. Evolve or break free,
one day you might have the power to see
all the good that would have come from you and me.

Fodder for my mental appetite,
with dreams and wishes I hold tight
to push through this fight
you aggravate and tempt me with your utter silence
and all the while it is heavy, laden with pretense.

I Stand With CeCe McDonald

I stand with Ce Ce McDonald
in this life to make art
doesn’t matter what’s between your legs
what matters is in your heart.

All our lives are political choices
we need to work together
to give all the people voices

Bring water to Sub-Saharan Africa
. . . and Detroit
stop Ebola in Nigeria
don’t treat it like a choice.

Break-up the pandemic of grease covered politic
take back our system, inject
sanctity in unity, passion without sin
love . . . in logic.

I stand with Ce Ce McDonald
in this life to make art
doesn’t matter what’s between your legs
what matters is in your heart.

Unlock it;
don’t bury the best of our days
save the child-bride slaves
speak-up for Ferguson
don’t let the police turn us in.

Friends or enemies
see the gray space of us
the life, the dust the trust.
Flip-over your tags
see what you are made of.

Children in China earning a dime on your lack of love
your need for a bargain
advertising jargon
there you go dipping into the lard again.

We need to start breaking down the lines
of people we want to be and those we want to idolize,
people we want to know
or those we want to blow.

Let people be grow
and show their heart to us
be parents I dare us
to show-up, blow-up our hearts with love.

Be brave enough to teach our children
that the sword
has no power over the dove.

All life we see is sacred trust
from humans to organism in the dust
birthed from the riverbed
get our ass out of the proverbial bed
stop revering dead figureheads.

Jump in the water, we’ll dive
ride the tidal wave to keep us alive
I don’t have a lot to give
but what I’ve got I’ll share to live
under this starry dome
on this blue boat home.

I stand with Ce Ce McDonald
in this life to make art
doesn’t matter what’s between your legs
what matters is in your heart.

 

Retreat

Do we watch while we lie secrets by our side
enemies, side lines, we divide
call it ISIS call it US
there’s no difference
war is colorless, relentless, leaves evidence
lack of humanity, we become a travesty
lost potential in our temple.
We need to retreat, become transcendental
remove the guise of mental
aptitude disguising servitude
as it drowns with our superior attitude.

To Fly to Swim

Wrap me in the folds of your wing
lift me up, let me bleed
I will try my best to say what I mean
let my words be muffled by your chest
try your best to listen.
No one mentioned the work to be done
to keep our love aloft
far from drifting on an open sea
be a narrow channel of water, wash over me
caress my mind with tranquility
catch my hand if I dangle my feet
on the precipice of a dark dream.

I in turn will be your safe place
a universal life giver
I will try my best to never waiver
speak with love fight the urge
to shove you away with screaming silence
manifest nests of bitterness in my head
conjure unruly spirits in our bed.
Bring me closer to your dream
trust what might seem like indifference
as my mind and heart connecting to your vision
deliver me upon your life’s door
and I to you will do the same.

Up a ladder to the stars

He loves me as I am
unconditionally
meets me half way
up a ladder to the stars
and I am a fool
who wants more.

The Collector

I am a collector of near misses
kept in the safe of my heart
under lock and key
only sharing with you
here with me.

Intimacy and Clarification

You didn’t say I love you
and I was sent reeling back to before
when you would cut me off from love
pull me off like I were a glove
something to discard.
Is it once again too hard to let me in
would it be something akin to a win?
I wish I was the one who held the power
the ability to stand above you in my tower
absolute in determination
lock you out safe from contamination
of emotion, intimacy and clarification
of what my heart contains
but I never could.
Since that night long ago in the woods
our bodies glistened in the moonlight
after our ice-cold flight into
pristine rivers
I held you with all my heart.
You held me afar
testing your bodies will to desire
allowing closeness enough to admire
a fool who would jump naked
into a pool of clarity and confusion just for you.

My Heartbeat - My Bass Line

I want my worlds to collide
no secrets, no divide
I want him to know me to know you.
Heavy metal, fairy queen
mother going to rock the scene
of your child’s play
feel free to fly away
but I’m going to stay put
take a look
and be free, for a while
till this trial
comes to fruition
at the end of my transition
from youth, to the middle
and on beyond. Listen
when I cry, I feel heavy deep inside
like I might die
as if I might just try to take flight
and fly out beyond the realm of knowing
moving forward,
trying my hand at growing
something besides babies and wasting time
my art is my drug,
my heart beat – my bass line.

A panic a blur a cure

A panic a blur a cure
for the remaining sliver of a girl
trying to be a woman
trying to determine
life without rules sans borders
is it possible to find freedom
in matrimony and not condemn
the idea of the individual
monogamy is not biblical.
An animal, a spiritual
being something more, evolve
or just scared to take a fall.

My Soul Sistas

My soul sistas
your love is a fountain of laughter, joy, tears and love
my heart swells with thankfulness every time we are together
my well of love deepens.
How would I survive this mid-life jive
if not for you to see me through
with you I am wide-mouthed laughter
I am smiles without hiding teeth
I am twelve year-old silly on a squeaky sneaky moonlight ride
I am grandmother wisdom before my time.
Mothers like no others
women of courage, voice and conviction
I thank you for your connection
your vision
your listen.

Domestic Bliss is a Hit or Miss

This is a rhyme, a rap, said to a beat. . .

 

Domestic Bliss is Hit or Miss
I was standing in the kitchen washing dishes
trying to figure out how I could be
something other than this old vixen.

I’m so old the president when I was born was Nixon,
or was it Carter.
I should try harder to remember
conjure up or even barter.

The people back then smoked too much dope
had too much hope
trying to cope with the changes
they saw coming down the line.

Culture spies trying to co-opt your time
now you need to take back your mind,
you stand on the sidelines trying to decide
unsure.

Meanwhile, they are jumping in to steal your culture
Don’t let them make you one more digital crime.

Now I’m coming in like a momma Vulture
don’t you dare send those kids back to the border
while you sit there with your Costco ass, hoarder.

Now is the time to rise-up, create order
out of chaos comes clarity, comes tears
wash anew, unpack all those fears.

I have to speak up now
after sitting silent for years.

Dinner Burns

Dinner burns
stand over the flame
singe my hair
feel nothing
already gone.
Tick tock
washed your socks
scrubbed the tub
cooked your food
am I free to leave
free to think
to grow?
You would know
pull the strings
as I scream
all these things
and so much more
silently.

Unlike Wine

Unlike wine, you will not improve with age,
left out to breathe, your darkness gathers.
I remember the first day you took my hand,
swept me from my feet down that darkened alley land,
to a life that was just outside my reach.

You a pied piper, I followed without even a peep.

You never saw my mind; I was staring at my feet.
In the darkness, the only light that shined was knee deep.

Across the room, my eyes wide, glimmered for someone I thought would shine.
I see the dark that circles you, your life, your time,
your eyes, and you sad with curiosity, how you wish you had no mind.
A push and pull stronger than the tide.

You didn’t even know I wanted you
lying ten feet by, with my face tilted to the side,
I watched you kiss my friend,
from under a table I heard the laughter I could not enjoy,
I rolled over, touched my lips to another boy.
You were a light that shone so bright into a moment dark in my life,
starving, lonely left out to rust.
I was a bit player on your stage never a walk on, no trust.

Your words drive me as crazy as the night I sat in back.
We drove up the canyon with those other two sad sacks.
Confused by what you were trying to do,
I saw you seduce the woman in the front seat
then hang out and be cool in the back. You failed at both.
Madness behind the wheel, in my mind, my thighs, my tries.
I never got out and walked; only let you drive.

I read your words upon the pages of your books,
clearly you say it, walk away while you can,
do not love this little boy pretending to be a man.
Poor communication, is more than a phrase,
it is the sign held up on the corner hoping to be paid.

First in queue of the faults that I have seen,
you sitting behind depravity hoping to be mean.
You the sensitive one, the poet the naïve,
all a mask for insecurity, a knack for preening
for the love and compassion you so desperately seek,
still every night alone is how you sleep.

Your vanity keeps you from showing-up
your time is not free. I have read and read your lines for days,
with never a quivering glimpse for me.
To you I am a toy tossed about when bored.
Shove me in the back of the closet;
hide me with your hoard, those girls from before.

I remember your voice, your timbre, the lilt and laughter that lit the room.
I came to my own conclusions of who you were
no matter who spoke of your doom.
Why am I a sucker for the word that you spread,
a language banquet so fresh and supple, and the feast you led?
I crave the magic of the page unfolding.

To see me, all it would take is a summons
I know will never come, just like you, always undone.
I never trusted you with my heart.
I sat there, held it in my hands; relishing your sermons,
you cried from the pulpit, thirsty, I playing my part.
I never drank the Kool-Aid, always a little too smart.