escape

if i get away
this time
if i get it right
this time

it's only
a matter
of time
before
i get it wrong
all over again

if i get away
this time
if i get it right
this time

it's only
a matter
of time
before
i am wrong
again

centipede

what a miracle
umber
translucence

rippling
along
the floor

rubbery
segments
all work
like a wave

couldn't bare
to touch
wiggly
tentacles

repulsed
fascinated

a beauty
awesome
fearsome
tiny

perfect
specimen
my reflex
to destroy

then
despair
the loss

environs

too mute
to be noticed

to thick
to compute

but the thick
butter of loneliness
is spread
across
your back

it presses
as you sit
in your chair
and stare

into a crazy
moiré
of sacrifice
and delight

hiding
in the
dark
corners

smelling
like
mold
and old
newspaper

sensing
the moist
uncanny
humidity
ocular
rigidity

macular
degeneration

mix
from across
complementary
atmospheres

ether
far
ether
near

simultaneous
broadcast
dot
com
dot
comma
glaucoma
coma
coma
coma

starving
for a burst
of appreciation
from a
tiny
apparition

popping up
in the corner
of the LCD

capitulate
reciprocate
iris
dilate

brightness
blinds
pinching
the brand new

smell
the mildew
in the box upstairs
next to the bed
filled
with mementos
and receipts
and unpaid
bills
scraps
and
fragments
addressed
to the
undersigned

it's like
a byline
autographed
and
inscribed
sincerely

those crinkled
metaphors
and memories
play
a tune
like clanking
clothes
tossing
in the dryer
the heat rising higher

sign off
before it's too late

Sappho

all the songs
sung

each measure
every line

a melody
a phrase

in your name

each stanza
eroded

each fold
corroded

because of
neglect
and fear

oh Sappho
your spell
is not lost

the powerful
fragments
remain

from that dust
from those chips

compose
arias
suspended
in the amber
of our mystery

each fold
a desire

each fragment
a myth

every lost moment
truth

I dance to
the skipping
record of your prose

I jerk
and toss my hair
at every break and tear

drops of
your mortality
lay before
my destiny

oh Sappho
my beauty
my song

the stone

little stone
kicked
rolls
down road

inside
same as
out

unless...
a geode
a fossil
a vein of
precious
mineral

wedge
fissure
with
moist drop

freeze it
crack it

open

like a clam shell
exposing
that most exquisite

manual of style

a structure
with a void
to hold
a certain mass
a volume

something
I can drink
from

something
to find
in the unkind
mind
with its
jagged apostrophes
unjustified parentheses
and most
egregious
ellipses

forever confusing
the feminine and masculine
actively modifying verbs
with no hyphen!

find that angle in the barber chair
where the truth no longer aligns
with magnetic north
it becomes
a moral compass instead
but the red light
in your head
keeps flashing

clashing with the gaudy
chandeliers
that hang
from your
self-importance
your impotence
disguised
by a carnival
of lies

the bitter bombs
the delicate wrists
the pomegranate
fragrances
rub out the musk

mumbled mantras
break your ears

unfolding fears
and jaded
jealousies
in every shade of green

the mall

what creature sprawls
across this cornfield
spoiling its yield?

what menace
lays its tentacles
over our prairie grass?

mirage dance
on asphalt
patches
baking

keep life
from seeping

sticky licorice
bubbles
burning nostrils
cough

dazzling shines
vulcan teeth
sneer

devours
society
inside

they wander
and slip

tossing their
fortunes
across
acres of
beaming
terrazzo

Ami

the ficus
stands
in the living
room
branching
out
across the walls

avocados sprout
profusely
to decorate
the hall

along
the carpet
moss and mold
grow plush
enshroud

in between
her shoulders
thorny disasters
creep

the spikes
tickle
and pierce

simply
day-to-day

confused
pruning
unspeakable
decay

most times
she goes
crawling
to the safety
of the dirt

all but stripped
of her skin
she burrows
deeply in

aloft

I place you up
where angels
faint

dizzy
celestial
fireflies
flicker
and die

this dream
comes

my world
is clothed
a blossoming
chimera

inside
fitful
silence
pricks

but I buy
the ticket
and quietly
take my seat

moth eaten sweaters
half-written letters

the juice is squeezed
from my effigy

it quenches your
mirth

the pattern
is stretched
wretched

more paintings

first snow

scenes around campus again

I'm already here... reprise

I'd like to change some things I've done
go back and make them right
but it's too late
today has come
and I can't make it all right

I try to get on with it all
try to be good
but sometimes I just fail

I know that in the past
I've hurt those I hold dear
I pushed them away
instead of holding them near
what am I to do about it now?
the past is back there
and I'm already here

forgiveness is an exercise in humility
a ride down a lonely road
but it can heal you
you can heal you
when the anger swells

forgive
I forgive you
I'm already here
I'm sorry you're still there

I'm sorry for hurting you
I'm sorry for trying
I'm sorry for shopping
and not buying

I'm sorry sometimes
for my very existence
I'm sorry for loving
I'm sorry for distance

the question is
after all
can we forgive
and not forget
can we relive
and not regret

I forgive you
for hurting me
now forgive me
for hurting you please?

telling lines

i see your words
and they whisper
through the lens
and the iris they
flash on the retina

blending
every color
reflecting
every hue

i see these worlds
with a torch alight
though it bends from
refractions exposed
to my very soul

blending
ever longer
reflecting
ever true

loathe thyself

crutch
of a mask

clutch
the past
like a clown doll

separate
from myself
a

tear

tear

away
the fear
in shrink wrapped
shreds

find
a path
to simplify

simply
to be

the
only
one

who knows

who knows

exactly
how

it
satisfies

and then
deny

it
it
never

hurts
it hurts
to try.

delicious

you coat me in caramel
you sauté me in cream

I am your onion
your magnetic dream

my fingers project
future phantasm scenes
in your palm pudding
and whipped seeds

lick the luscious
caramel coated me
find the apple
inside my tree

I revel on your jaw
chew my soul raw

steam each part of me
bit by bit
take up every flavor
cover your tongue
and savor

sweet and sour
rich and thick

lick, lick...
lick.

winter wind

it stalls over my house
bitter
and unrelenting
a breath
of such
intolerable force
that I
no longer
bend
but break
in its
menacing
miasma

the days
are shorter
assured
but you are there
and you have the switch
in your
hand

you have a blanket
a warm broth
steaming

but you resist
and stand away

as I crumble
in the cold
of
a
winter
day

alchemist

the property
you bestow
upon
my chemistry

beyond the scope
of the
normal every day

I'm written in
your recipe

your elements
compose
my slow
reaction

stirring
in the quake
of absolute
infusion

heated
by a burner
cast
amid
your crucible
and cured in your fire

I am yours
alchemist
I am your stone
I am yours
my philosopher
yours

as on

fog ascends
around
chipping crust

ghostly owl
sounds
burrow through

damp
smell
surrounds

whispers
of waters
slipping

breath
taken

eyelids
close

earth becomes home

half stolen poem

he flips his blade
within
he blends
as he deepens
the furrow
crazy crimes
rage and fade
love is his name

shell

sunrise
sea shore

sand
into
brine

coasting
fishing
wishing

could
this beach
give up
just one
glorious
memento?

one
revelation
from
its
ever
deepening
indigo

first line stolen

pearly everlasting
dealing in delight
this phantom
echoes
eternal
song
within
my mute
heart

party

a girl only gets so many parties
so many streamers
and balloons

so many walks
on a sandy shore

so many kisses
good night
by the door

time takes a turn
these blessings
it can devour

and a woman
only celebrates
what fate
she consecrates

in this age
she can only compel
the imaginary

joy

bubbles
emanate

they tingle
and tickle
as they pass

lightness
as tight
as spheres
that
ascend

burst
in blasts
of laughter

practice, practice, practice!

folded up with regret
but not one to neglect
this tickle
of emotion
known
awfully
as love

this affliction
this addiction
that kills
over
and
over
and
over

because you
never actually die
you just
get beaten
up
beating
up
the heart
that
beats
instead
of retreat
instead
of defeat
you just
come back

for more
and more
and more
and more

soul kitchen

stove
like an onion
layers of grease
the paper
of garlic
collected
beneath

kitchen
bares scent

organic desire

a little bit burnt
on too hot a fire

tiles paint floor
like checker game
every move made
just more same

floor creak
songs break
faucets leak

geometries set
constellations
near chairs

napkins
folded
repeated
white blasts

then a prayer

parting gift

the last time
i saw
the last time
i looked
the last time
i felt

it didn't
make any difference
it didn't
change a thing
nothing to

change
something
so it gets better
than nothing

so it gets less bitter
unless it’s better
less bitter
so it gets better

retreat to art

it's easier
to hold a paint brush
or a pencil

than a hand
or a heart

it's easier
to relate
to light
and shade

than a tear
and a sigh

salt dissolves
paint dries

a canvas torn
still has more
to offer
than eye

ms.

uppity
bitch

slut
cunt
babe

hot
dizzy
whore

hag
nag
old bag

bimbo
shrew
crone

witch
ditz
dumb blonde

shrill
a real
dog

it's all a lie

i said
because it is
and it never was
because i said

so when
does it end?
and why
did it begin?

so then i say
whatever

and then i think
never