QUAGMIRE

Eclectic cocks
monopolize my dreams
Faceless in the darkness
secreting euphoria into my veins
I am jello unmolded
I am melting chocolate
I am a Cheshire smile
I murmur secrets into the air
My nipples exemplify my apex
I wake to the chuckles of him
who was not one



MY FINGERS

trace my love to be colored in
by passion and just this moment
Pastels and paisley
watch them illuminate over
your body like feathers as they fall



IN THE MIDST OF DAYLIGHT

Sequestered
upon a knee
and another
Cascaded in
the feel of silk
Giggled initiative
from my creamy smile
Part my lips
with exhibition
then hide
on the verge
of proclamation



FINGERPAINT VISCOSITY

Finger-pop me
with voyeur eyes
pretending deaf
dumb and blind
Dawdle your diddle
in slomo-tion
Paint spring land
scapes lick the
dewey morning
of my flower bud
bloom

  
IT'S MY PARTY AND I'LL....                            

I have reached the age
my mother was
when I began
to resent her most
All the knowledge
I gained trial and error
could have been
handed down
as sage wisdom 
should be
I am barren
at this age of redemption
for fear of repeating
her distance
Non-maternal
and lax
Good-byes
are just words said
My only love
is shared
tho devotion
is always at question
Nurtured into a void
I implode with suicide reality
Dance with me now
the Birthday song off key
Hold me closer than need be
and feel my heart
pump out cold tears
and when I tremble
as if scared and unsure
keep it a secret
that I truly am                                                               





IN THE OFFICE                                                                

I look at my
absent minded
reflection in the
off TV
There is no real
distinction
Mostly shadow
mostly tints
of various gray
I am waiting
for my 3rd coat
of nailpolish to dry
Ignoring another chapter
in an already 3 week book
There are lines
in my forehead
now visible
w/o my bangs
Lines Jerry said
make me look older
...........I am
But my nail polish
promises thicker nails
and I've really only
5 more chapters to go
But all in all
it's just reflection
and you can just
walk away from that                                                         




BLAST

I'm so tired
of all the cliches
rehearsed lines
and easy rhetoric
Don't talk to me
in poetry
I write it
I know the line breaks
It's getting so much harder
to keep from laughing out loud
when your face
explodes expression
to punctuate
such earnest diction
Save it for
the ones who still believe
that metaphor
is shy side-stepping
and the truth
is all in the
emphasis

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