The squall rousted the last of the roses,
a flutter amongst the mango blossoms.
The storm billowed with savage abandon,
a waterfall cascaded down the wall.
Lightning graffiti scrawled across the sky,
charcoal thunder rattled the fogged windows.

I held her trembling hand and stroked her back
as she leaped at the sound of every crack.
We breathed in rhythm — a steady tempo —
in-out, in-out, our tempest ritual.

He came to report a discovery
of roe while cleaning the rohu for lunch.
Spicy fritters added to the menu —
swift improvement to inclement weather.

Flowers bloom next to rusting Pepsi cans,
Watered by the spit of ******* dealers,
And the ***** and vaginal fluid,
Of hot lovers groping under blankets,
Under stars dimly blinking through thick smog.

Nightly haven for muggers, rapists, fiends,
Whose every breath profanes the species they,
So poorly represent, turning Plato’s,
Featherless bipeds, to dead plucked chickens,
Soul-less, pointless wastes of protoplasm.

Abomination-- not in itself but,
For the use it’s put to: a bone for dogs,
Who’ve never tasted steak, and are gleeful,
To feast upon the scraps of fetid meat,
Clinging to well-gnawed bones that they are fed.

Central Park, the bone we are to chew while,
Smiling complacently at skyscrapers,
Daily rising where wild flowers might have grown,
Our humanity proportionally,
Shrinking inversely to their daily rise.

If I seem narrow minded and unkind,
Or blind to the beauty of Central Park,
It is because I’ve stood on ****** ground,
In summer, fall, winter and early spring,
And cannot bring myself to love a *****.

I haven't counted the bluebirds going by,
there can't have been more than a few, but
I always chase them away. I'm afraid
the raven doesn't see me yet.

Oh, Morning Glory Girl, I  love you so.

Little sunrise flower, more innocent

Than she knows, trying to soak up  the light

Of those gone gray, my sweet Morning Glory

Girl, her bright petals start shrinking away.


Oh, Morning Glory Girl, I hate you so.

Vegan vultures feed on your innocence

You bask in the attention of corrupt

Beaks. They do not love you, Morning Glory

Girl, they just want a meal, but you're starving

For that kind of love, so you're happily

Used, every little bloom, chewed up, spat back out.


Oh, Morning Glory Girl, I miss you so.

As midnight settles in, you're all but gone

Every petal, wasted away, all for

Naught. The vultures crow over your frail frame

And hot rage boils within my grieving veins.

By the light of the moon, I mourn and mourn.

How could you do this, Morning Glory Girl?

Such lovely petals, all given away

Only to be torn! You're nothing but stem

Vegan vulture food, nothing left to see.

Who would guess that such a lovely flower

Would become a beast like me? I must go

May both of us carry on, grow something

Brand new. But remember, Morning Glory

I will never forget who I once was

Such an innocent flower, just like you.

I'll smile for you with bitter insides, love.

Sincerely, this jaded, grieving nightbloom.

power pose
in front of the angry men
"we're not scared of you"

but they should be
she spits fire bright
from lips she wears matte dark
she's digging the perfectly manicured claws into the palms of her hand
hands that bring incredible generosity
and incredible pain
depending on how audaciously you approach her

with your alcohol-stenched breath
and a body that takes up space
but contains nothing of substance
aside from liquor of course
an empty, angry vessel of wordy slurs and slurred words

she knows they don't deserve her tears
they should feel grateful to receive even a smirk
an ounce of her attention
in this economy
with the men who untuck their shirts after a long day's work
unaware of what the women have been up to
is priceless

you can't commodify what you can't touch

they are not beds waiting for you
to lay down on
to make your lives easier
while you weigh down upon ours

her silk sheet skin
and the comfort of knowing she will be there at 2pm and 2am

this is her home
this body is an address
it is not your residence
loiterers will be fined
she will be fine

power pose
the power grows
this is your power prose
because mama,
you will be fine