look beyond my dark thick gown
be strong and courageous
God is all around me
but you must look past my heavy gown
my light my freedom never closes
for i am not a door without a knob
look beyond my cowebbed gown
but make sure that you clasp your thoughts hand
you will need them for this journey
take time and show me that you are opening a window breathe liberation in
when the threads and seams of my tightly stitched sleeves imprison you
open your heart and push on through
the light is closer than it seems
there will be times when you’ll get lost amongst the blackest gauze of my deceptive petticoats
you will ache cry curse moan writhe in madness
dont be afraid to use the sharpness of righteous diligence to cut on through
don’t be afraid of my gown
within it lay your wings
Poetry
after the X show
the soft cool feather strokes of breeze fingered through my shaggy tangled hair teasing out a kaleidoscope of red highlights
the muddy booted covered feet carried my dirty denim wrapped carcass through the termite riddled door into his wool upholstered army cot where he kept 3 golf clubs
we kissed wildly like two beasts on the savannah interlocked in that battle to the death right before they cut to the Mutual of Omaha commercial
love i wondered as he pawed at me what was it while his teeth searched for my young girl bits
it wasn’t like the movies nor was there flirtation or sexy anticipation like in Bei Mir Bistu Shein
then he stopped my eyes still closed and my tongue lapping in the dark
i need a cigarette he whispered can i bum one i rasped
what is love do you think i dealt out my rhetorical grunts
an almost neon silhouette of his broad shoulders shrugged against the poker faced moon
thank you
pin head rain drops fall the slugs arise from slumber
my steps uneven ballerina slippers getting soggy
but somehow it’s ok my world isn’t asunder
there it is my favorite corner French iron wrought patio furniture and a mural of Mexican bolsheviks on the wall
stepping up to the bar she smiles awake and wide product of the prozac nation landslide
triple espresso red eye no room for anything
thanks are in order i bless her heart with crooked sinful fingers i tip her jar
a chair is chosen for me the usher mysterious and melancholy lures me next to him
he scoots over cigarette stink on his beard but he smiles despite his need to be left alone
i sip ladylike against my physical appearance a contrast in being
he turns his face to me glimmers in him golden eyes tilting his face i notice the wrinkles around his mouth wondering why my eyes have no glimmers
he sips the coffee sliding down his throat a barely there inaudible gulp he pardons himself
as the majesty that he has made me i accept his kind regret and we sit quietly in the eclectic cafe being alone together
cowboy Earl
gold tooth black Stetson hat
a shitload of loitering tickets and pink assless chaps
he was from Mississippi grew up on bad land
menfolk took his innocence his momma shot herself
we both sit by the parrot tree looking cross the street at the hipsters in the street meat taco line
as if he’d quip every now and again
how’d you become a cowboy Earl
that’s a personal question Grady
cool i’d say passing the Batman portable bong his way
lava rocks
first the beers
then the hard stuff
then snow
she said good God don’t you feel alive
i moved my face down
my eyes look up
grimace at the stars
smoke invades my ratted hair
miss my cat she said
his name was butterfly
got killed by coyotes in the west hills
don’t you miss your cat
silence
then a nod
a snort
and a pop
i don’t have pets
i’m not responsible enough
brown eyes tears up
cheeks scarlet
my parents hate me
i’ve been such a huge problem
i saw yellow rose buds in the therapy room she heaved
they want to put me on depakote i said
my nose bled a little
why
i flipped my daddy’s car
on the 10 heading east
oh
then she swallows loudly
malt liquor spills out
from the corners of her cold sore covered mouth
but i dig it here i say
i’m thankful for the cool scars i caress and stretch my arm
and that i am aware of my self destruction i guess
sounds like you’re winning the battle she says
my face falls
under my breath
reaching for another cigarette
i hear the boots coming to seek us out
we know the routine
our tiny back packs get buried under the decorative lava rocks
flown
time sits condensed like grandpa’s old Valvoline tucked under the back porch steps
i’ve flown away from my soul this morning before the hummingbird came to mourn
the landing will happen later today when Ursula preps her beet salad i think that’s when it will happen
nodding trailing sinking from the surface tadpoles file in and soon enough will leap with a part of me
there i am i will paint now i can’t catch myself but there’s a little blue pain that aches to be laid out on rice paper from the kitchen drawer
in your eyes
dew sets on single flowers to brew a scent that will waken a sweet child like chaos in your eyes
just like our simultaneous pleasure propelled from the steepness of our throats
so do your eyes open like the flower to cast a honeyed gray net upon my will
while on your arms i walk alone afraid of wanting more of the white hot thrusts into my sinning soul
i have no shame or guilt or debt i give myself completely let your fingers lead me to the green mile of your eyes
let me serve as your last meal before you move on to the next
and when you’re done i’ll lick you clean i’m ready to be tossed unto the dying wind gambling that this time the pain will end forever
to miss
my ears have heard
words and utterances
some warm some cold sharp void of life
i fill a dropper full of lies and squeeze them in my eyes
but they roll out eventually
the heart can’t be made a fool even if it’s mine
i haunt the streets and alley ways i pick at crates and smoke away the vision of a miserable creature
whose love just ran away and left her with no direction
in my nightmare the flying carpets are ubiquitous and free
the torment starts when you stop by to tell me about my sorrows
the roses pluck at their own thorns as if they know i won’t come back tomorrow
doulas
sand dunes gray breathing quietly the wind caresses smiles on them like new born babies
those who witnessed the sunrise shiver slightly humming and blessing the horizon their hands usher a new voice
mothers with strong courageous hearts the most sacred foundation for the tiny roots to rise
washing off the stubborn stains of ignorance and calcified time
paving plowing and clearing paths where God and water there do clash and angels become mothers
words less spoken 