The solitary woman plays solitaire
On the weathered foldout table
She keeps where she can watch the sunset
Draw three?
Draw one?
Withered hands on automatic
Move the cards
Reset the deck
Over and over
To find that card, this card
A card she needs to move forward
Peripherally, she sees children laughing
Lovers kissing
People living
There is the man that used to love her
She drew one
He has found another woman
Another deck
She resets her deck again
Jokers with wide, acidic smiles
Spectators in this game
Gaze knowingly
Ha, ha, ha
The hilarity of it all hits her
The futility of it all breaks her
This is absurd
This joke has no punchline
She laughs until she cries
She has dealt herself a safe hand
An unwinnable hand
No time to reset
Ha, ha, ha



Mr. Cellophane walks alone
Passes through crowded streets unknown
Walked around and through
Collided with
But still unseen

He has a “wife”
He has “friends”
He has pretend things
A childhood game of make-believe
That took on an all-to-real adult persona
Faceless in the city streets

He is the painted clown
Sent in for your amusement
Is his expression real?
You wonder
But, don’t care

Mr. Cellophane
You look right through him

I am his mistress
His transparent follower
Pining after even his attention
If I paint my face, too
Would he want me?
If I get a little prettier
Could I be his baby?

If he does not see me
How could you even spare a thought for me?



Surrounded by greens and blues
An idyllic landscape
In a fantasized utopia
That is almost real
It brushes the soft tips of my fingers
Like a feather
Like a dream I just barely remember

Even near this paradise
A life-giving generous oasis
My mind looks into mirrors upon mirrors
The dark side reflected
The shadow that is my own face
Dissatisfaction creeps
My form
My figure
My function
My forced reality
My fearful asymmetry
Futile, it seems

When occupied
I am a goddess
I am purple personified
Elegant, regal, spectacular
Fascinating and fascinated
For a quick, subtle moment
The mind is idle
Then, all at once focused and unfocused
Blurred memories, dreams, and speculations

The dammed tears
Threaten their damned barriers
Fueled by a past that cannot be helped
A future that is unknown
A present that cannot be embraced


The sun rises
I am smiling again
I have forgotten
For the moment
The things no one remembers
The things no one yet knows
I am happy

Sunflowers bloom in the distance
I am black
I am yellow
I am wistful
I am hopeful
I exist
I am
I am not


Black Garden

I don’t want it to be true
I don’t want to love you
I don’t want the memory of you
Beside me
On top of me
In me
I don’t want to remember
Your eyes as we gazed upon each other
In the afterglow
I don’t want to remember
your sweat mingled with mine
I don’t want to remember
That final kiss before you slept

Do you remember
The scent of my skin?

Do you remember
How you felt between my thighs?

Do you remember
Those special smiles
The ones that were just for you?

Do you remember
What I cannot forget?

Do I want to forget?
Indeed, I do.

My eyes are dull and gray
The roses that bloomed between my thighs
Have wilted and grown thorny
Entry not allowed in this dead garden
There is much pain beyond the gate
Passion is dead
What once was wet for you
Turns to ash on the tongue
My heart and legs are closed
They only drip with blood

Do I want to forget?
I grow weary of remembering
But, then I recall the scent of you
The feel of you
The smiles that were just for me
And I know I will not

Who will care for this black garden?
Who will nurture the dead?


Swans at Crossroads

Here she is at the edge of the tunnel
A crossroads on a narrow path
Sun on asphalt
Eyes adjusting to the bright
She teases the wind with a finger
Now two
She can’t tell its direction
She is scared
A small step back
Into darkness
Into comfort
There she does not have to wonder at her shadow
At the future it foretells
There she does not have to wonder at her greatness
At what she could be
At what she already is
But won’t let anyone see
She could stay here…
She fears the light shed on her scars
Her idiosyncracies laid bare
There are cracks in her skin
A needle and thread in her heart
This quirky, patchwork woman may frighten you
She frightens me…
When reflected upon broken glass
Muddied puddles
But, she is glorious art
She has Mona Lisa’s subtle smile
Exudes the sexuality of Venus
Stepping out from her dank isolation
She sparkles in sunlight
She has little confidence
Feels inadequate
But knows she must change
Choose a path
You will be mesmerized by her performance
Enthralled by her dance
See the black swan transform
See the white swan embrace herself



Yellow is my favorite color
It is the color of the sheets I lie on while I think of you
The color I sleep on
While I dream of you
Of other pleasant times
Of other nightmares
The color on which I lay my head in regret
Or wonder what the universe has planned next
It is the color of the sun’s rays
Penetrating me
Darkening my brown skin
To match the bile within
It is the color I wear to glow
Strangers think me exuberant
Innocent bystanders scammed out of their wits
It distracts from the truth in my eyes
From the yellow cowardice within
I wear it as armor
As a lie for the masses
For who would they be
Without their strong, confident leader
Who would they be if they knew I am weak
Gray patterned and vague inside
Unable to stay
Unwilling to leave
Exuding yellow sunlight
But following the black night
Castor and Pollux see behind the ruse
They know the yellow, mutable muse
The nomad who can’t stay
The two-faced changeling
Who is both beginning and end
Send in us clowns
We’ll make you laugh while we cry
We’ll make you yellow
Even when we’re blue



The bottomless pit of hunger
Is akin to the bottomless hole in my heart
My appetite is for you
The taste of you lingers on the palette
I never want it cleansed
There can be no one after you
No course that will fill me
You were my last supper
You left that night
I died the next day
Where are you?
Come back to life
Rise from the dead
Raise me from the dead
Sustain me with your body
Let me feed on your blood
Save me from the fate you sacrificed me to
Because you did not know yourself

I realize this sounds like an Easter poem, but that was totally by accident…



I can see the music in your aura
Flowing through your veins
The passion is brimming over
Without words
I understand you wish to play for me
Play with me
I fall into you
As your symphony begins

Begin measure

The melody starts simple
Your touch is light
Like the soft sounds of a violin
Like a caress of the piano keys
Equally attentive to black and white
And pink
You progress to high notes
Lyrics form in my throat
Low and gutteral

To the other end now
To the low, seldom touched notes
Your form is unmatched
Your eloquence unequaled
Ready for a quick sixteenth
A long fourth
The eighths in between
This consonance will be the end of me
My beautiful Apocalypse
mezzo-piano, mezzo-forte

End of measure

For a moment, you slow
My song pauses
Then, you bring in the orchestra in full force
I become a thorn bird
Singing the most precious, beautiful song
As though I will never sing another
We rise together in crescendo
I come alive and die in your arms
Our final forte

End of measure

It is silent now
Our masterpiece ended
Instruments dim into a quiet harmony
My ears still ring from the sound
My body still trembles from the strum
I emanate vibrant colors
You gaze upon the wonder of your art

da capo al fine?
From the beginning, shall we?

Play me again…
Make me sing…

End of measure



Love and Lust

Is this madness real?
Or is it the fire within me
Trying to break out
Looking for any target to engulf?

When our eyes lock
You see me and through me
At a quick, furtive glance from you
My secrets lie down at your feet

So, do you know?

It might be love
It might be lust
Be it neither or both
I must have you

What is in your mind?
What are the musings you blow to the wind
With the smoke from your cigarette
As you consider the sky and stars?
You are depth and substance personified
I am your eager student
On my knees before you
Teach me

What do you taste like?
Let my tongue wander and learn
I will wrap my legs around you
Squeeze you and push you deep
Until I feel the essence of you
In the marrow of my bones
I want to forget where you end and I begin
I am a dripping sponge
On my knees before you
Take me

Let me lay my head in your lap
Give into love as you stroke my hair
Let me lay my head on your chest
Give into lust as you stroke my bare skin

I ache to be in the vicinity of you
Shudder and stutter in your proximity
I’m ready to open any gift you give me
And, in turn, unwrap myself for you.

Maybe today,
I’ll gather the courage to say hello.


Forgotten Things

Just over the hill is an old house
Nothing special about her, really
Aside from her mere existence
Yet, her appearance elicits a gasp
She is plain, but regal
When the glint of the sun hits just right
Her many windows render her splendiferous
At other times, they are like eyes
Watching you, following you
Seeing through you and learning your secrets
But, unbeknownst to the naked eye
Her foundation is crumbling

I step inside the house
I’m not interested in the winding staircase
The large, ornate rooms
The places where laughter once rang
I want to know her secrets, too
I find the attic, pull down the door
The ladder creaks like old bones
I fear they may break as I climb
The sight inside is not beautiful
Nor is it heartbreaking
It is a shrine to indifference
There are things
Little things and big things
Little knickknacks and little nothings
Memories suffocated by dust and left behind
Making friends with cobwebs and spiders

I feel at home here in the quiet
Making my way through the boxes
Trying not to disturb the years layered here
Lest I give life to lifelessness
Hope of rememberance
In the corner!
An empty space that’s just my size
She knew I was coming
I inhabit my designated space
My place among the forgotten things
This old house
She will love us
Long after we crack and break from disuse
She will hold us
Long after the sun goes down