First April

April 9, 2023 § Leave a comment

I would rather miss you
so much that I suddenly can’t
bear even the sound of my own voice
than to have you gone and
have it not change anything.
I don’t want to be carefree,
and I will feel this loss as a hollow,
the place in my heart where you
are, still, and will stay.
I want to be less because you
are beyond the reach of my
text messages
you can’t tell me you’re on the way
or suggest we get together Saturday
It seems only right that
my whole being feels the stars
shedding light, the skies shifted,
and every falling petal misaligned
in the winds of April. Don’t
tell me that the beetles under the leaves
can’t feel my sorrow, that the
songs of the birds don’t include
a note for you.
I won’t believe it. I don’t want to. This is mine
to feel;
I know you would understand.

Happiness Does Not Keep

June 24, 2022 § Leave a comment

Sadness is shelf-safe.
It preserves forever, uncaring if the dust is thick;
It will be waiting, even if forgotten.
It never goes rancid.
Who could tell, anyway?
Even fresh, it makes one sick,
a bad odor, a terrible taste,
a texture to cause gagging.

But Happiness
must be newly picked
So that its juices are sweet and flowing.
It spoils so quickly
One must have a ready supply
always ripening
always growing
Happiness does not keep.
In its abundance, share it;
Happiness is not for hoarding.


Poem 117: Mean Reds

July 22, 2021 § Leave a comment

Mean Reds

This is the hue of my Mean Reds.

This is cruel and wild and violent.

I want to bite something til it bleeds,

pin it down,

and mock its cries;

I want to bite something while it screams.

This sharp-clawed thing has a dragon’s wings.

I know what kind of meal it needs.

It wants to tear my heart

out of me;

It wants to taste the flavor of that meat.

I want to bite something and make it bleed.

I want to swallow blood and vomit fire.

I want to destroy

what I can’t acquire:

the balance of my spirit at peace.

I want to feel flesh cut under my teeth;

I want to rage until I am spent.

Blood and tears have the same salt taste;

This is the hue of my Mean Reds

a darker color than Holly meant.



June 15, 2020 § Leave a comment

They could be yours
because you have had them before
colorful feathers out of reach
and the bird in hand
understands the feeling.
There is room for more
but while you are chasing
what left you empty-handed
the one you have
feels unneeded.

The open sky offers her
a warmer hold.

October 2006

Even Angels

April 18, 2020 § Leave a comment

In the easement between
God’s will, and the plans of devils,
where the roots and leaves of time
mingle without season,
a girl can pass.
Girls belong neither to the apple
nor to the garden;
we are not made of clay,
that mud of Eden,
though we inherit the stride
of our mothers who answered betrayal
with a step that crushes serpent’s heads.
Even angels cannot walk with us
without bearing burdens,
not while we are only girls:
the blush of knowledge new in our cheeks,
the breath of creation in our chests.
The power of girls
passing between —
we lose it when we lose
pieces of ourselves
to the odd devils of changing age.

May 2016

In 2005

December 21, 2019 § Leave a comment

Do you remember what you came here for:
Green tea & Rock and Roll,
The convictions of a monkey’s mind,
Liberty for All?
What conspiracy theories?

Speak, I’m listening ~
the maddening musings of a misunderstood mind,
the babbling of a not very tortured soul,
Incoherent ramblings
Powered by paranoia,
Fluff, flowers, and verbosity;
Your life can be used as a bad example to others.

Where the rivers meet,
All the lights are blinding;
The trees are singing water.
Between a rock and a hard place
a Sanctuary of darkness;
Raw wonders
in this other corner of the web.

Let me tell you about my boat
Because for some reason, you want to know me

I’m innocent, by standards.
I am your Painted Whore.
If you let me… I will change your world
One day I’ll be famous… I hope
Sunglasses help.
Time to move on.

My assault on the world begins now
The reluctant nomad
on Journeys through writing
Making love to language
Sudden inspiration.
Scratched into the door,
a Chronicle of a life measured out in coffee spoons.
Peace found here ~
Sometimes you have it, sometimes you don’t


.Sleep Together.

August 30, 2018 § Leave a comment

This warm presence nearby
trusts me enough to
at my side.
Placid, even breaths
measure the stretches of our time
On the crest of slumber, I hear
his heart,
a soothing sound, as steady as waves.
When I, too, sink into the deep
our dreams will mingle like
sand and tide,
the tangled track of our waking days
Washed blank when spirits
meet and part
and bodies rest, touching.


August 27, 2005


August 23, 2018 § Leave a comment

All the doors and windows open,

you left the place where you had lived,

and the home we had together

will be so, so empty of you now.

Today I will celebrate you,

Every day I will celebrate you,

who loved me

In a way I understood.

Come at me sideways

June 5, 2017 § Leave a comment

Come at me sideways
the way these dark clouds slipped over
sidling up with open intention
and no threat
Ever wonder why I let them?
Why the shadow
is as often as the sun?
Come at me sideways
and keep your hands low, and open
Eye contact is a challenge;
avoid it.
Come at me when I can move
because if I feel trapped
by a single, blocked doorway, if I feel cornered
One of us, or both, will have to be hurt
in my break for freedom to breath.
I’m a woman, but that doesn’t mean
that a wild thing doesn’t struggle in my chest
So easily frightened into rage —
I cross my arms to hold it back.
Don’t speak, not even softly
Don’t ask what is wrong
But if you can leave something to draw me out
maybe, this time
we can do better.


Rose Gold

May 20, 2017 § Leave a comment

Atlantis is sinking into the golden sand
El Dorado will be leaves by dawn light
City of faerie gold
For a gilded day in a century, you can visit this village
but by night, the fog will cover Shangri-La
Oh, and the ochre leaves of autumn blow away
under the veil of night, in Camelot

Come away, come away to the Goblin Market
And when the clock strikes thirteen
We will all fall down
Pale water —
Atlantis is going under the waves
That which was never found
is lost at last.


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