Poems
Foundlings
The big mouth opens swallows me down…
Scarlett colored pulp,
Wraps around my head,
Sleeping in my tooth.
You come to me in
The middle
Of the night,
Early morning.
Whisper lies in my ear,
Tell me riddles about
Love,
And what it’s done for you.
I can’t change you.
But,
I can betray.
So here’s a taste…
Make sure to lick your lips.
Don’t leave your castaways hungry
And
Remember to wipe your feet.
Goblin
There is a cabal that dances ‘round my finger.
Some days I think the pale gypsy has moved,
Some days I cover.
When I feel a bite at my knuckle I know from whom it came,
The tiny silver goblin that nibbles on my flesh.
There is a cabal that dances ‘round my finger.
In a blur of breath and water and voices he drinks me,
I stretch, hands out, to meet his stomach.
There is a cabal that dances ‘round my finger.
For nine years I sit at the pit of him,
He vomits and I dance.
Slow like honey I sway up through his mouth.
Out.
Tally
So long,
I think,
In my lightswitch way,
You’re about to leave.
What should I care?
Me with my big words
And
Empty meanings,
You with your perfect image parading in front of me,
Like a cat on a fence post
Mewing
At
The moon.
What should I leave of this gray knot so dear?
Should I
Tie
My hair with this string?
I could dance with you
And
Your pretty blonde birdies,
If you’d let me get close enough to
Their
Cage.
I see you climb the fence,
Tear your jeans,
Bleed your leg,
A tooth
Blacked out like the moon.
I won’t ordain you,
Not today.
Your heavy heels hit strawberry patch,
Squishing fetus fruit in perfect time.
In a bloody carnage they fall to earth
With cloud in hand
And
A tally in eye.
If you came for me,
I’d leave.
So you keep running
On with bloody fabric
And
Scarlett heels.
There's money in your pocket
Waving like a Stupid flag,
Damn you.
Six A.M.
Like flat guitar chords or snails on hot sandy Sidewalks,
Like scratchy summer grass
I dance,
In
And out
Of sleep.
You stand above my bed with a blurry face,
Is it morning?
I see my headboard swirl to meet like concubine Branches, like mercury falling into the hub.
Yet, I can see only lines of you like watercolors or Crayon shavings.
Sit, please sit.
The scuffed-white paint on my door is peeling away from the hole I kicked; it snags blue jeans as you Leave,
I ought to get up.
Last night’s window is still open,
Old clothesline wagging in the wind.
The sun hasn’t come up over the playhouse yet.
It must be early.
Predictable
Out here on my own,
Leaving soon to find,
A road of my own,
You are left behind
Riding on a bus,
Feeling,
feeling,
thrown
Finally,
I
See
.
.
.
us.
By land or sea or foam
Riding in that BIG damn car
My knees, up!
Asleep, on the seat
Seeing you for who you are
Takes a SlicE of me that you should meet
I would walk like water droplets
I am exploding from beneath my hair,
On all sides but one.
If I could paint my face,
I would call on red and yellow.
My eyelids would drag like heavy carpets
Groping along my eyelash walls
In spurts and spasms,
Words,
Gypsy moths,
Old horses.
I would walk like water droplets,
Getting bigger by the drip.
Could someone see my hard stains?
My corrosive ghosts,
My rusty eraser shavings?
I would leave a pale ring.
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Golden Girls Quote Of The Day
"Ma, you did feed the puppy today didnt you?"
"I dont know, I think we both had one of those international coffees, mocha minty or something, we both threw up a little..."
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