Vacancy

I have space
for you.
There are limits,
of course.
But they were not set
by me.
He made me in
His image.
Only He knows
my ceiling
and floor.
This heart has many chambers
some unused
some still bruised
some occupied with
the past.
But there is room
for you.
I saved my very best
amenities:
soft cotton sheets
seaside views
a hundred-twenty channels
mini soaps and shampoos.
Do not wonder
at the loneliness;
The walls hold more
than emptiness.
The space can be filled--
It is not without warmth--
There is vacancy.
It is reaching for you.
The neon lights flicker
like lightning bugs in summer
lighting the way
to your home
within me.

Laughter Through Tears

I am laughing
belly bursting
eyes brimming over
with tears.
the shock and sadness
overpowered
by the delicious humor
that makes humans so
very
ridiculous.
i am an idiot
a fool
a jester.
i sit among
feelings,
for once
not attempting to give them
a name.
oh, fools we mortals be.
so pardon me
as i lose it:
laughing
giggling
snorting
chortling
cackling.
Sometimes
i am even too
ridiculous
for myself.

Dear MTA Transportation,

Waiting
for the train
i need a Local.
All Express.
keep whizzing by me
one
two
three trains
whoosh.
Twelve hours working
on feet
smiling
pleasantly pissed off.
head pounding.
i need. a Local.
train.
The annnouncer lady's voice
perfectly poised
mechanical
maniacal
introduces an on-coming
train.
"Ladies and Gentlemen,"-
oh thank God.
"the next train is arriving"-
finally.
"on the"-
yes?
"express. track."
...f*ck you, MTA.

Arrival

A warmth along the skin

Goose bumps appear

As your arms encircle

My waist and heart.

Ah. There you are.

My face hurts 

From smiling .

You lean in 

 Foreheads touch

And we are quiet

As we listen to each others'

Heart beat;

Knowing it no longer 

Belongs

To ourselves.

It is shared,

Like half your cookie or

A sip of my tea.

I remember this feeling

When all is

Glowing Light

Sweet Hope

Promised Love.

I've waited for you.

Thank you.

Finally.

RAIN

I miss the rain
the smell of wet grass
the feel of dampness on skin
filling your pores
beads gather on branches,
eyelashes,
windows that fog.
Fingers
drawing pictures in the mist.
I miss the sound
the patter
bringing memories
of quiet mornings
of perpetual Fall
shoulders relaxed
and thoughts emptied
onto blank pages.
There is comfort in the chill
familiar
simple
quiet
I miss leaning my forehead
against the glass
the coolness
a balm against my restlessness.
Gray is a color I know well
The color of sky,
ease,
and home.

Persephone

Take my hand and lead me away
from all i hate and know
lead me to the ways of sleep
where all the nothingness goes
allow me to release my mind
and cease the thoughts that cloud
let me waste the need for breath
and dance with death's dark shroud
i'll sit upon the throne of stone
and feast upon your eyes
i'll give you what you want and more
i'm sure i can entice
an eye for an eye, a tongue for a tongue
i'll make you moan and groan
be cruel, take all, give nothing...
just dont leave me alone.

1990

The chill of the air
The smell of the trees
Winter kisses the
Pinkness of your cheeks
The twinkle of the lights
The whispers of the breeze
It feels like a memory
Of home.

Cornflakes

You are a bowl of cereal.
A single solitary bowl that becomes soggy in time
The flakes no longer soak in knowledge
Much like your brain.
Could be that you weren’t made by expensive
Nutritionists that nurture
Thought.
Could be that you’re just that cheap imitation
Flake
that isn’t good enough for the top shelf.
Or, could be you had the potential
Of becoming a well balanced breakfast but
You were left to saturate too long and were
Forgotten.
When there’s nothing in the fridge
Or they are too lazy to fix something
Real
They go for cereal.
They go for you.
A poor substitute for whatever it is they’re looking for.

Christopher

You rest now. You’ve worked hard enough.
You earned release
Crawling up hill
Swimming with one arm
Breathing black smoke
And now you’ve come home
So rest now, rest now
Quiet peace.
Peace of mind
You’ve done well
Ride with the current
And know I’ll hold you when you go
Let go. Don’t worry
I will be here
You’ve taken the lead for too long
Rest now
No need to stay.
Though you’ll be missed when you’re gone.

Beginning of the End

I hurt
I panic
Stop stepping on my chest
The elephant in the room.
What I don’t say
What you are too tired to hear
The horse is dead. Stop the beating.
But I still see the ring on chain on neck
I still feel hands, breath, and skin
I still hear old truths and words
Yet who can live on echoes?
I cant live much longer on echoes.
Afraid to ask for more.
Knowing full well it cant be given
Knowing full well it’s deserved
Nevertheless
I’m tired.
I miss you.
I hug myself tightly
To try to keep warm
And shiver.

Taxi to Mazatlan

That sticky mucky feeling
Like when you finish off taffy
The smell of dirt and must
Through the open window which
They call air-conditioning
Beat up billboards that haven’t been changed
Since the eighties
Ghettos before paradise
Children hanging half way out of buses
Others pawning for pesos after washing
Your windshield with dirty water.
Desperate, skinny, starving…
Or just cunning and crafty,
One thing’s for sure
Don’t drink the water.

Shut Down

no no
dont move on
just yet
i wasnt done with you
we still had
a few more things
to try
wait!
dont shut the door
i still want that light
i was using it
to fumble my way
to better days.
i'd still find the exit
without you
but it would be
quicker
happier
lovelier
easier
harder
better
much better
with you here.
with you open.
with you.

Rag Doll

I cannot cut that last string
though the fabric is old and frayed.
It is attached to my heart
and keeps it pulsing.
It used to be attached to yours.
Yes. I know it looks shabby.
Yes. I know it makes me a sad ugly rag doll.
but I've grown used to my face in the mud,
being dragged behind your training wheels.
You are an ageless child
and I won't have you growing old without me.
So tug at that string all you like,
twist it into knots.
the smile, painted on my mouth,
will not change.
The brightness in my button eyes is dulled
my skin paled and gray
my body lifeless and limp.
but my smile, painted, will not change.

Do Not Trespass

summers of T-ball games and hayfever
gum stuck to your shoe and "cops & robbers"
of lemonade stands and pennies found.
I was luckier then.
We built a tree house that we never finished
it still remains.
The single blue step i painted
faded to a wash.
a sign posted: Do Not Trespass.
Yes. Do not trespass on my memories.
Do not trespass on my dreams.
A time when there WAS time.
and hope for what we would someday be.
The trails we rode are overgrown now
with sticker bushes and barbed wire.
no children laughing
no music playing
just that big sign:
Do Not Trespass.

Temporary Morning

Swinging on the porch swing
quiet
a school bell rings in the distance
same one i used to answer to.
trees are waving
welcome home.
wrapped in a blanket
sipping on my latte
alone.
i crave this silence.
the smells of new wood and old chimneys,
shadows stretching awake
in the chill of the morning.
a car passes-
a rude interruption
and i remember
this will not last.
it never lasts.
and the crows screech with laughter.

Narcissus

fetch an etch a sketch
and draw me a picture
of what it is you want.
Careful, careful
you stare into that water
for too long
your reflection will
eat you alive.
Pray you never wake up
from your daydream.
pray you never learn
to be truly alone.
pray i never get the
satisfaction
i deserve.
pray you never notice
that they are your own hands
dragging you under.

Closure

Lover or Loser
It's but one letter difference
and I have felt both.
I shiver in winter
with window
frozen open
I am cold
and I can't get it
shut.
The glass
too cracked
to keep warmth inside.
Help me.
Give me truths
Painful answers
fill the blanks
Show me how
love turns off
like a faucet
and yet drips still.
You sit back
neither tightening or loosening
and let the drip drop
the single tear of hope
continue.
drip
drop
I cling to the sound
waiting
loyal
lover
loser
by the window
listening.

Ink and Blood

Empty it out.
With pen and ink
To write
To explain the heartbeat in my ears.
The pages soak up ink and thoughts
Replacing a roar with peace.
Keep calm.
Keep quiet.
No one need know how
Angry you are.
Keep writing.
Keep still.
No one will notice the
Ache.
Leave it on the page.
One word bleeding into the next.
It doesn't have to be good.
It just has to be true.

Moment of Weakness

the fear of not existing at all
no mark
no photo
nothing tangible
only memory
and written
documentary
of what was.
i prefer to believe
regardless of truth
that i live
somewhere in you
always.

We are Not Friends

we were
stealing time
blindfolds
trust
a million
firsts
given
freely.
someday i will
look back
at you
and smile
and revel
and give thanks.
but today is
Not. That. day.
Today,
i will tuck you away
in the darkest place
with the cobwebs
and the dust
and the mold
and forget you ever
existed.
and i will survive.

Resentment

I’ve decided I’m going
To hate you
A little while longer.
Call back tomorrow
Maybe forgiveness
Will have arrived by then.

Just Mend.

sometimes 

nothing is better for you than 

a good cry, 

a deep breath, and 

a long sleep. 

You can conquer the world

tomorrow, dear heart. 

Tonight, 

let yourself sit in what you 

feel. 

Cover yourself 

in the safety of 

a warm blanket. 

Close your eyes against 

soft candle light. 

Let what is suffocating within you

out. 

Acknowledge the cracks, 

the paper thin emotions, 

and what is bent but not broken. 

Pour out your grief 

open your palms skyward, 

giving up your troubles to 

One 

that is greater than you. 

Then set your head at rest on 

a pillow of dreams 

and know that you are loved. 

Tomorrow 

is new and 

ready for you 

when you get there. 

But tonight, 

just mend.

Stranger

who are you?
you look like someone i
used to love
a pale copy.
yet as i look closer
i see
how much you've changed.
no. i don't know you.
you are a shell
that is cracked
and empty.
i have no taste
for runny eggs.
now please, sir,
stop wasting my time
and go.
what?
did i stutter?

Puppy

you’ve put me
on a short leash
until you've moved on.
And when You’re safe,
you'll let go
and i'll be left
to wander through traffic,
while the leash,
still attached,
drags on behind me.

Little Boy Blue

ohhhhhhh
i get it!
you're a chicken shit.
Aww, wittle boy bwue
is scared.
no problem
i'm sure you'll find
plenty of sheep
to blow
your horn.
you will regret sleeping
on the job.
you will regret missing
my glow.
for i am the moon
full and bright
and you are nothing
but a little boy
rolling in the hay
with.
your.
sheep.

RABID

Infected.
Don’t touch me, lady!
you haven’t earned it
and you, dear boy,
have lost the privilege.
i come from the land
of the awkward hug
the occasional kiss
from a love you miss.
a touch is precious
and one of trust
an intimate connection
of joy or lust.
so forgive me
if i shy away,
i may soon allow
but not today,
for my mistrust
i have cause,
before you touch
take time to pause,
for i will bite
when provoked,
for my heart was lost
when it broke.

Healing the Ego

i will look at you

straight in the eyes
and let you see
what you've done.
i will not hide inside
myself
for then you'd think
you'd won.
i am nothing more
and nothing less.
what i am
is enough.
and here's a memo
for your ears:
i don’t need your love.
so, my dear,
if your selfish ass
should choose to
stay and linger,
allow me to
present to you
my fuckin'
middle finger.

The Line

Tis a Fine Line
Between
Fool---Faithful
Much like a risk
Where one makes a
leap
hoping to land somewhere
better.
The line
is the waiting.
The wait...ing
is excruciat...ing
watching the screen
every muscle vibrat...ing
every thought hesitat...ing
and the power is all
His.
The power is in
the ambivalence.
of that you are short.
helpless
weak
you fumble with the keys
Waiting for words.
Wait...ing.
teetering on the line.
Will you choose hate or love?
Blame or Forgiveness?
Will you be given the chance to decide?
Cruelty is in the silence.
Intentional or not
And you sit feeling sick
clawing at your chest
ach...ing.
wait...ing.
becoming more and more desperate
to cut the line.
Tonight, pray for ambivalence.

HOME

i had a dream last night
of sunsets and lone walks
of sunkissed elbows and window seats
french doors and balconies
tire swings and cool breezes off the sea
i could smell the autumn leaves
hear them crunch under my feet
i could drive the winding roads of smooth pavement
feel the salty film collecting on my skin.
greens, blues, earth, everywhere.
i knew in my heart, that this was home.
a home i created. a home that was mine. just mine.
there is peace in the quiet.
i dreamed that i could while away the hours
reading on that window seat.
listening to the tinkling of a silly windchime and my own thoughts.
i am barefoot on hard wood floors
i am padding around this house, this porch, with coffee in hand
and silently thanking God for all i have been given.
i could stay like this for hours. days. and just be.
i dreamed it all was real.
Then i woke with an ache in my chest and
tears in my eyes.
i woke to loud music and roommates shouting.
to sweaty sheets and thick air.
to people pushing, to tedium, to shaking fists.
to short tempers and impatience.
grimy gutters and skeezy looks.
i am awake. and i wish i were dreaming.
i am awake. and i wish i had that home.
i want to go home.
to the home i created in a dream.