periodic emissions

i must’ve needed the pain you gave me

it started like a dream knowing always

that it wasn’t meant to be because of odds

i was so very screwed in the head

my compass smashed by consequential hammers of life

you were what i needed then

but you came not to me without your complications

we didn’t make love

i don’t even think i know what that is today

it’s not been explained in anything i ever read

least of all not there when you’d touched me

we fucked like animals and it was explosively good

and i’m not ashamed i have no regrets and i’d do it again

you cautious i free

all of which was good and partly wholesome  

after my fifth reincarnation

i can now admit i was looking to die

you were the perfect trigger

cruel mean handsome strong smart older

and so very wrong for me

i the perfect foil

in the hunt that men love

gullible vulnerable presentable stupid educated young

i have aged since then yet i haven’t grown

i’m a perpetual socially functioning adult

with the soul of the song of the lone barn owl

in the dead of a rainy frosty northern night

as the minutes pass every now and again

they stab me slash me and run away laughing

with the memories of your bristly mouth

alternately between my lips and my breasts

my neck and my legs

your rough skinned hands clasping my wrists

to keep me from jumping

your honey yellow eyes who wept

with me at our miscarriage

and your graying temples

where the kind lies of indiscretions were confined

if i still smoked i’d light up

after some of the dreams i’ve had of you

i miss our chemistry animalistic

sloppy sleepless rough bitter

with the right amount of intensity and ambrosia

i miss your manly scent woodsy of earth like Adam

the reverberation of your voice

on my navel

number 48

scorched concrete broken bottles

         bus fare not enough rain comes

huddle in the mass of 300 cots cries for help

a man is lost behind himself he now sees

         in front of him are wading genteel lakes

his hands metaphorically cut off at the wrist

                closing his eyes he dreams of hills

opening them again he seeks to seal a reality

            that comes in colors mainly blues and blacks

his mind aloof with a potion of castles in a foreign land

    where the weather is gentle and his feet kiss the sand

in the banks of a river holding the dusking sky

        number 48 is called to sit at the chair

we don’t have room for you try back next week

       he looks down and looks up again

out of the building to sidewalks of pain

    three blocks from Wall street

the birds start to sing     the river is placid

    the hills are rolling    skies are all yawning

      the fire she roars inside of the castle           a new king explores

et ecce mulier

omnipotent dawn shawled in gray and pink delicately kisses her on her scarred forehead as it rests against the bus bench advertising the most prestigious real estate agent in town while seven nylon bags each with a logo from a market or a high end store warehouse her last prized belongings one ragged blue Nike sneaker and paper cups filled with grime a broken clock and red wires

militant she is in body in mind she could be anywhere beyond the stars when she smiles the image in her eyes reveal the fires from hell in a most delicate green other times she sings in laughter and waves hello across the sky to the graces never seen by human eyes the locals with finery of wear wonder why she’s there and crown her as a public nuisance not meant to be part of this community there is just too much of a great divide between her prophecy and their brittle decaying reality

look the lawmen arrive she’s more despised and made to carry her belongings down Dolores St. and then the dusk with iron claw he comes and she can’t run away from the hand of fair and righteous rule the goodly people have unanimously decided through tax forms and priority that she must go away the jury wash their hands for the people have spoken and so she takes her fate with a tired brave face not understanding the hate or what she did and where it got her

for three days she’s placed on a hold prodded with instruments of scorn and judgment pleading for her thirst to be mollified she’s forced to take bitter pills as the keepers of the places gamble on her kismet now she’s subdued her gown is sheared down to her contorted waist lacerated feet and hands are tied to the bed of loveless nails for the sake of the most upstanding people’s protection system

take a stab at it

the way i fall in love

is complicated in its simplicity

love my insides

my outsides are just temporary

my heart and my soul is where it’s at

the warmth of a hand the kiss of a feather

the ride of comet flying through Mars

the thought of a blessing

but you can’t be a coward

if i fall into madness

the turbulence rough

the motivation sunken

in dark hole obsession

you have to sink with me

and hold on to me tight

my spirit will guide us

don’t turn off my light

of course i love diamonds

and rubies and gold

when you gift them to me

so i can feed the ailing

the old and defenseless

flowers are lovely

and i adore all their essence

but to turn me on

shower the assholes the finks

and the bastards with words of

kindness wisdom and laughter

and if i fight don’t come to my rescue

but i won’t begrudge you if you

leave me to rescue an innocent life

human or animal it doesn’t matter

and if you know MacBeth that’s even better

and you mustn’t be angry when i share

my space with Johnny and Dee Dee and Joey and Marky

one last thing you gotta be a great kisser

after the Tropical

the fevers come alternately between the shivering cold silver icicles from the north in my heart and the crickets in stereo is all i hear on Thursdays at the meet this isn’t working i’m not working you’re not working when you’re passed out more than me i am screaming so dimly silently as to not disturb the expectations of those who haven’t lived haven’t hurt haven’t lost haven’t murdered their own soul as the blue gray spirit holds the last of the plasma in her hands weeping into the air of having felt good and bad together like when the gods cum and the fucking rock bottom has three secret layers underneath the circle with a broken line cannot protect me do you not see what i see it is beauty in the knife wound of his side that costs too much to stitch and Bacardi left a while ago and your horse faced phantom takes too long to boil i can’t wait 1 second it’s too long to feel too much the melodrama of my delusion you don’t deserve mouth to mouth but ask me as the ambulance struts by not our call tonight tomorrow neither

my two dollar Bible

words sacred

the world

commits fratricide

for and

over you

since the

Breath released

the first

prokaryote upon

Tierra’s face

to serve

as a

guide and

as a

fate to

one and

all souls

you and

i are

one in

kind my

dearest treasure




i’m that girl

this Eden is

very beautiful

i’ve crawled on my belly

since the time of the Pharaohs

and i’m feeling deeply tired

today i make the case that gifting

me free will does not compare to heaven

when i close my eyes the cries of Mary

still echo in my ears while Martha’s

brother slumbers wrapped in linens

and the taste of chocolate

melting joy on my tongue

careless angels send

Your blessed signs


i am



willingly i sink in your hands im tired peace flood over me


chaos in our blood

sunrise joins our hungry mouths

zen entwines our flesh

nolo contendere

some Sunday mornings early at the park the ducks would waddle toward him with shaky hung over arms he’d lift me above the quacking wonders the giggles floating up like bubbles some summer times long ago i’d get to stay at his home motorcycle parts in the bathroom and nightly a different ‘aunt’ to make me food some days after his brothers would roar out of his garage in the afternoon i’d make a dollar for every bottle i scavenged from his oily shop floor and i finally had enough to buy chutes and ladders there were certain times i didn’t trust him his glances were an empty page don’t act like your mother he’d say when i offered to do a chore just to strike up a conversation like Sammy and Ginger my neighbors next door did with their Da when it was their turn to water the lawn i guess he thought i wanted another board game as i grew older and farther away i saw no use of trying my hand at rewinding time with the old man being a Da wasn’t his suit and being parented is something i’ve always sucked at