Rejection a dagger      I the beggar

  Daughter, beloved stardust I see your sleepy eyes,  I know you’re tired of acting ladylike. I shamed you to sit and speak like ladies do, I taught you to wear a dress To conceal, your soon to be feminine figure, Nasty and erotic.   I taught you how to compete. I taught you to turn green, to snarl and hiss I taught you how to sharpen your teeth. When you beat me, I cried tears of vengeance and rage. When I beat others, you cheered my name,   I cried tears of happiness. You, everything I fought to love You, everything I fought to hate.   It’s shame vs jealousy and it should be a thrilling fight Yet, these scars I cannot hide – Where are the scars, where are the scars Where the fuck are the scars! Here is my wound, Lips oozing and bloody.   Do you wince, Does the pit of your stomach twist? To know the scar of the womb To know the plight of motherhood, To know the disease of femininity.   To know ...

  In a flower bed day dream   The sun swallows up my head Seeds fall down the length of my fingers and into the soil Sowing Love’s intentions Velvet clover tickles a rabbit’s foot Bringing gratitude.

Oh hateful hand, Strike another chord  Put stars in my eyes  Put numbness on my skin. With a bang  The flat black key  Sends my head swirling into oblivion.  I look down at my hands  Like a mother to its child,  The piano screams — 

Eyes soft with fire burning tongue. Slither down the hallway and the rats scatter. Scrambling, darting, burrowing deep, into any dark crevice they find. Among the massive, chalked concrete slabs, sprawled-out and sleeping upon the brown, sunken earth. Look up at the waning moon, an odd deformity. Partially stifled, partially burning, secret shapes, imprinted upon its fair, soot face. A bleached-out smudge. Highlighted by tiny pin-hole dots. Seeing stars, letting the air in so I can breathe again. The breeze brings scents of musty ground, rotting to make new.   Sweet scents of morning dew. On green blades and clover.   Smells of salty brine loft to the atmosphere, from the crusty shell of an ocean floor. A spicy perfume reaches up in my nostrils. Grabbing my train of thought off its tracks. Suspending it mid-air. Teleporting it inside a television screen. Wispy images scroll-by. Sauntering in a dream cloud state. A familiar child dances about. Finding a cabinet. Half-emptied o...

A feeling washes over me That familiar feeling Being here before Hundreds of lives within one Sitting, staring At a picture on a wall To infinitely unexist In this moment of existence Maybe it’s coincidence Maybe its bliss

Inhaling hot smoke Down the throat And into the lungs- Breathing it out In the words He won’t say-

Soak submerge In the dirt of yesterday run a cloth across my rigid landscape all that’s dead falls to lay fingertips trail over a track on repeat . . . goodbye . . . goodbye . . .   distorts and morphs an echoes’ retort . . . hello . . . hello . . .

A song’s rough draft Sits unfettered In his lap. My sheets spread And slip Scattering ~ To the sky To the heavens.

   heady    sunsets    golden rain    silhouettes    a scape    i will it    lest forget

           Second hand house plants                   and yellow light             dance inside the zorbing                    grey and white.            Isolation rolls imagination          in the home of jumping Joan.