on the canvas. I was
wet and dripping like a feral
kitten. My creator didn’t lay me
out in the sun. And so, my colors

run. The red and blues
look purple. The mother’s milk
curdled. Throwing me up as *****. And so,
I left a stain. Beaten by the brush

I lost my sense of touch. Now
I’m oily. I’m a spill in a broken
frame. I hang on the wall as
a flower. None admire me. But I haven’t
nerves to leave.

My tears are dry
as a bone. I cried
many teardrops
that froze to my

face. They turned
to icicles and cut
as razor blades. I bled
out all the red myself

in bed. I turned
hard from the cold, as
the grass in my yard
under a blanket of

snow. I’ve dug
an impression none can
see. The sun doesn’t shine
on me. When you’re a rock

they look at you
as a mismatched sock. None
can tell I fought to grow
between the blades and bitter snow.

dwarfed and obscure,
sit neatly arranged for all to adore.
Parched from the aridity, neglected by the sun,
I the bonsai never truly begun.

Cast in the shadows, growing off to the side,
never fully *****, always wanting to hide.
I the bonsai have the capacity to grow,
a little warmth and attention is all I need you know.

like pelting hail
till I had bumps
raised as braille
and he danced all over them
using his finger as a pen

He hit me
like a flying dart
pierced the bullseye
I, his mark
on his first throw
had me from the go

He hit me
like a bombing blizzard
billowing white dust
blinding me with every gust
till I was swimming in the soup
and then he flew the coop

He hit me
like quicksand
putty in his hand
as I moved
he would expand
and held me tight
into his chambers
and let me sink
like we were strangers

gold
as a wedding band.
But it doesn’t shine
in my hand.

You can paint it
red
as blood.
But it won’t flow.
It makes a thud.

You can paint it
green
as clover.
But it only sits.
It won’t come over.

You can paint it
wearing a smile.
But it’ll not be happy –

It doesn’t have eyes
to look into mine.
It doesn’t have a mouth
to sing a note.
It doesn’t have arms
to hold me close.
It doesn’t have feet
to climb the mountain.

I lost a man from this planet.
He lives now under
a slab of granite.
Hard and gray as a stone.
All that's left of him are bones.

long enough
you’re going to get burned

No one comes out clean
except a stillborn

If I disturb you
unnerve you
then I’ve done something

some people
are going to love you.

No matter what you do
some people
are going to hate you.

No matter what you do
some people
are going to ignore you.

No matter what you do
some people
are going to talk about you.

So, keep doing what you do

rain down on me
let it pour
let my skin repel
every icy drop
of water that fell

Let it
blow gusts of wind
let it knock down branches
let my curly hair do dances
in the storm

Let it
burn me, the sun
till I’ve blisters
let them fill
and with my fists, sirs
I’ll pop everyone
as if it bubblegum

Let it
snow, a blooming blizzard
slapping my face
hard as a lizard
billowing gusts of powdery dust
let it climb past my door
I’ll bore a tunnel through it
crawling out the other side
where the ocean meets the sky

black as the night sky
brown as flapjacks buttered and syrupy
peach as a peach farm tree
red as my son’s skinned knee
thick as an alligator
thin as a high-school waiter
acned and wrinkled
old and pickled
fresh as a baby’s bottom
fallen as the leaves in autumn
every mole, rash and blush
is lush with life
and hasn’t been touched
by a doctor’s knife
aging isn’t flawless
it’s beautiful

Nobody Answers

When she walks into an empty,
dark house it hits her as a wind tunnel. It’s deafening,
as her hand places the key into the slot and turns
the **** to open the door. It used to be a lively place,

of kids and pets and toys
spewed all over the floor, chocolate stuck
to the couch, and little finger-prints, like art-work
coloring the walls. The television would be

singing in a sugar-coated voice
a rhyming silly song. Now it hardly gets
turned on. It’s only a black, plastic box sitting slothful,
as the logs in fireplace. Those logs are cold

as stone. There hasn’t been a fire in many years
to keep them warm. Her phone doesn’t ring much
anymore. And when it does it’s only a bill collector. Her
children are no longer living there; they have

their own lives. Her friends have divorced
and are in the dating pool. Now a day she spends
most of her time socializing on her computer. Silence
creeps in stealthy and grows like a cancer. You call out
his name. Nobody answers.

I’m Missing

some buttons off my old winter coat. It doesn’t
keep me warm any longer because it won’t close
all the way. I’m missing the cap off my toothpaste. It’s dried

at the top, and  hard to squeeze out these days. I missing
my keys again. I can’t drive the car. So I can’t get to the supermarket. I’m missing my best friend. She hasn’t called for

weeks. Wonder what she’s doing. I’m missing all the things I used to do with my son when he was young, like going sledding
after a snow storm and building forts from blankets

and pillows, gorging ourselves on Halloween candy and watching cartoons on a winter’s afternoon. I’m missing my father something awful. It’s been fifteen years since his death. Cancer

took  him real quick. I still haven’t gotten over it. Sometimes I feel like I’m missing me, parts of myself that I gave to others, parts I’ll never recover. That’s before I got burned, before life taught me

some cruel lessons, before I fell in love and got my heart
broken. But what I’m missing most of all is the chance to do it over again in a different way, knowing what I’ve learned today.

do
something
because
it pumps
the blood
through your veins
because
it releases
endorphins
because
it’s natural
as breathing
because
because
you don’t need
a reason

are as acorns. I bury
them; by noon forgetting
them. The rain and snow
mix. The earth beneath

my feet freezes with all
my bright ideas of making
a brighter year. So, I skate
on the topping.  And as fall

arises I’m propping myself up
as a scarecrow. The ground melts
the snow. And I see the buried
wish, crisp as apples in a dish.  I’d

make a pie with them all. So, high
it’d topple and fall. But this year
I shan’t. No, this year the solution –
No resolutions!

are farsighted? I’m splitting in two
in front of them, and still I can’t get
their attention. They walk over me like
I’m fallen leaves. I feel so used. I beg and

I plead for some relief. But they think it’s
my usual drama. So, I wear my steely armor
and smile. I’m not fooling anyone, least of all
myself. So, I hide in a bottle like a ship. And just like

the ship I can’t get out of the narrow
mouth. And there’s a cork at the head that won’t let
anything in. So, here I’m all alone by myself, which is
something I’m used to. And now since I’m split at the bow
I’ve no masts but two hulls.

my keys
locked them
in the car
with no drive
couldn't go far

I lost
my head
it rolled
on the floor

I lost
my footing
and fell
outside your door

I lost
years
of a life
that was green
till I took my brush
and painted the sky
with all your lies

I lost
count
of the painful
things you said
but like sheep
I put them to bed

up
as a paper doll
in blouse and skirt
and knitted shawl
and it’d hurt
between the lolls
when he didn’t call

He cut me
down
as an old oak tree
with tainted words
dropped to my knees
cut me in thirds
in a fell swoop breeze

He cut me
in
the spring
as tulips bloom
cut all my heartstrings
not to resume
this threadbare fling

He cut me
out
of his life
with a pen
not a knife
and then
took a wife

Let’s Make it Real

What if the left
got along with the right?
And the right respected the left?
Imagine if the world were our hands,

to cut off one would make
the life of the other one seem almost
unbearable. They’re used interchangeably,
even when we have a predominant

one. I want to envision
a less polarized world,
a world we love and respect one another,
a world that is kind, that is

understanding and tolerant
of differences. What if we lived
in a place where there was peace,
no fighting or protesting

in the streets? What if we were
as our hands? Open to the idea?
We can make it happen.
Let’s make it real.

Death come quick!
Come fast!
You’re so slick.
I can’t last.

Death come soon.
Please do hurry!
At noon
wheel me out in a surrey.

Death come neatly.
Come softly.
Take me completely.
Been feeling awfully.

til the air jumps into your lungs
the trees of gold and crimson
are a blur and swims in your dreadlocks
your heart’s a blaring boombox

Run! Girl Run!
past the corner store
til sweat seeps from your pores
don’t look back
run wild as the wind

Run! Girl Run!
with the steam of a locomotive
the fire in your feet explosive
cut yourself from him
he's just a broken limb

Run! Girl Run!
over his lies
leaving skid marks
on his oversized ego
he's only a placebo you're taking
he's moss
shake him off

there’s too much
of this -
too much work
and paying bills

not enough playing
and finding thrills
in sand pies
made at the beach

and silly
jabberwocky speech
too much worrying
about this and that

not enough funning
lends you a life
perpetually flat

on him some day. She's tired of
holding on when he just strays. She's put up
with a lot over the years. It wears on you
after a while. It's hard to hide behind

a smile. She's going to reach a point of
no return. She's going to spurn
his advances. She's given him too many
chances. She's lost herself living

for him. She's lost her light. She's dim. She'll not
stand in his shadow no longer. Over the years
she's grown stronger. She's not the girl
he first met. He's not her world. She's not

his pet. She's not going to leave a note
on the kitchen table. She'll waltz out that door now
that she's able. And not look back. She's paving
a path up to the sky. Sprouting wings, she's going to fly.

My new poetry book is out:https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BW283N8Z?ref=astauthor_dp

I want to be a blind melon
and have the bumble bee girl as my daughter
I want to laugh at the rain
lay face down in the puddles and drink the water

I want to be the red wheel barrel
glazed with rain water beside the white chickens
that way the world could be mine
I am ripe for the plucking and all the pickings

you down
with dance and laughter
till disaster
strikes
is a white knight
on a steed
but take heed

The devil wears
ripped jeans
and sports a tan
but understand
underneath the six-pack
and muscles
lies hustler
not a man

The devil wears
his wit
like a written manuscript
has his lines so define
wraps you up
like you were twine

can give life
and one person
and take life away

One Person
can create
a beautiful masterpiece
or destroy the hope and joy
in a child’s loving, trusting face

One Person
can build this country up
or tear this country down
One vote
can make the difference
as to our future
if that vote is sound

One Person
can change your life
forever –
if given the permission to

One Person
can do many things

One Person
is you

I like rain in the winter
It washes the snow away

I like rain in the spring
It turns everything green

I like rain in the summer
It brings a peaceful slumber

But rain in the autumn
Is soon forgotten

Don’t Wake Her

from her slumber
Sleep’s the only peace she knows
She gets lost in her unconscious
Takes her places she’d never go

Don’t disturb her fantasies
Her childish ways beguile
Gets her through the rainy days
Paints a pretty smile

is dehydrated
as instant friends.
But the friends don’t
have the same shelf-

life. Blackened crystals
shimmering as fool's
gold are a lump of
coal. As you have

a sip you’ll find them
bitter.. I like
my coffee dated, as I like
my friends –

percolated.

I close my eyes real tight
so, it’s him I cannot see
and dive into my mind
make-believe
you are there
and when I scream
he thinks it’s him
that broke the rafters
and the beams
that woke the neighbors
soaked the sheets
and when I climb off
I lay back
and smile
and so does he

to crack an egg
break it apart
but remember beaten eggs
make savory omelets

It takes someone
to cut a tree
saw it down
make it fall
but remember fallen wood
makes homes for all

It takes someone
to light a candle
make it shine
brighten a room
that once was dark
like a tomb

It takes someone
to plant a seed
grow a garden
to till the soil
that once was harden

I’ll hand you a cup
so, when I cry
my tears will flow
as water from a faucet.
You’ll drink it up.
The cup, just toss it.

I’ll hand you an eraser
so, when I write
you can erase the parts
that don’t feel right,
the anguish and sorrow.
Read it now,
the words are light.

this overcoat
of friends
filled with smoke and
lies. I’ve worn for
years. Drenched in tears
it’s soaked and heavy
as my father’s 60 Chevy.

Time to Shed
this wrinkled skin
I’ve lived in all my life. It’s pale
and thin/stretched
too wide. I cannot hide the
Lilly spots that branch out
from my eyes.

Time to shed
this painted red
drawer of memories
beside my bed. I haven't
energy to sift through
the pile/sort out the happiness
from the bile.

Music Is

my companion’ it’s so understanding. When the clouds roll in, music is my friend. Where there is percussion
there’s no need for a discussion. It soothes my aching heart

the moment that it starts. People must give their opinions;
tell you what they’re thinking. Music is relaxing. It’s a great distraction. When my nerves are shot I play it a lot. Cymbals are

the thunder, makes me wonder about the universe, the ******, the meek, the cursed. It’s a catharsis, each string from my guitar is strumming my cares away, the lyrics a Shakespeare play,

each teardrop, another note that the composer wrote
especially for me.Music is epiphany, can’t buy that at Tiffany’s. Can’t wrap it in a box, put a ribbon on the top. I can take it on my

walk, when I’m driving, when I’m home, when I’m
all alone. It’s my best friend, sound that never ends.

Forgive me
for acting on misunderstandings
placing blame on you
when I knew what I was getting into it
easier to point fingers
I’ve got two hands filled
with enough digits to go around
I look in the mirror
see I’m not perfect
rage is my weapon
resentment my ground
and revenge keeps coming around
I’m self-destructing
in delusion
I got enough work
to take care of the planks
in my own eyes
thanks to forgiveness
isn’t it lovely
isn’t it beautiful
that I’ve only myself
to take me down

a leaky faucet
a rolling drip
of stagnant water

Every day’s
a full closet
of drunk dancing skeletons
living on the premises

Every day’s
a parade of jokes
of gangrene limbs
and thick black smoke

Every day's
a masquerade
of storm clouds
covered in marmalade

Every day's
a rollerblade
on a highway to hell
an arcade of
an old witch's spell

Every day’s
Groundhog Day
an endless loop
of the same

Dandelions

make a nutritious salad. Colored eggs
fill an Easter basket.  Dressing up makes her
feel young. She likes to wear her brown hair
long. At the bar yesterday, a ninety-two year old

woman sat drinking pinot noir, wearing a
bright, orange pumpkin hat she bought at the
Christmas shop. Her secret phrase “one foot in the grave,
one foot on a banana peel” You got to slip and

slide and have some fun. Sit inside, and you
go numb. She learned a lot from that old gal,
who put away a whole meal of meat stew and then
ordered a big dessert too!

knocks
at your door
do you let it in
to take a seat
telling it to wipe its feet
or do you leave it outside
in the cold rain

When silence
bowls
you over
do you scream in its face
and chase it as a child
running with a net to catch
a butterfly
or do you leave it there
to die

When silence
bites
your tongue
do you swallow the blood
of a million things
that flood your head
or lay it out
as the quilt
on your grandma's bed

in one sitting before quitting
How much can the sun shine before
it turns dusk?
How much can the baby cry before
it learns trust?
How much can the rose bloom
before it withers on the vine?
How much can I pen?
There’s always another line

for stars up in the sky
until I found that all the stars
are just reflections of my eyes

I was reaching out
to other people for help
until I found the only one
that could help me was myself

I was reaching out
for whatever I could
find. But whatever it was
wasn’t good enough, at least
not in my mind.

I was reaching out
to get high. But the high
could not be sustained. And I
realized that I was playing
a losing a game.

I was reaching out
until I learned to reach in.
That is only when true healing
will begin.

There comes a time in one’s life
when you must ride
Feel the air whip through your hair
as if it were a sail/blaze a trail
Set all things aside
Ride like wild horses into the unforgiving night

Ride across the ocean
until the salt splashes up in your eyes
Ride across the prairies
until the breeze kicks off the flies
Ride like wild horses into the unforgiving night

Ride through droughts and scorching heat
when you’re thirsty and tired
Ride through storms and brush fires
hot as an electric iron
Ride like wild horses into the unforgiving night

Ride into the sky
Part the clouds with your smile
Ride into your unconscious
Ride! Ride! Ride!
Ride like wild horses into the unforgiving night

Lately I feel weighed down
as chocolate coated brown.
I taste sweet, a cherry lollipop,
fizzy as orange soda-pop.
But inside I’m dissonant ebony,
masked in shrouds of revelry.
I bask all day in purple haze.
Run amok in a cornfield maze,
behind yellow walls of acid rain,
indelible as a port-wine stain.
Smell the smokiness of me.
I’m a jar of potpourri.

Boxes can’t hold me
Scars won’t mold me
You can’t break me
Opinions don’t make me

Failure won’t finish me
Words can’t diminish me
You can’t define me
This life is mine, see

as red lipstick on fat cheeks
it’d run down my face in streaks
and leak into a puddle on the floor
I’d mop it up, so it’d be no more

I'd like to wipe it clean
as chalk on the blackboard
my eraser as my sword
and be rid of every word

I’d like to wipe it clean
as a stain on my blouse
I’d douse it in laundry detergent
till the spot came off in the wash
and be rid of the big thick blotch

I'd like to wipe it clean
as the tide rolling in
knocking the sandcastle down    
as a bowling pin to the ground

because I am not substantial
as an earthling.

Where I break
the light shines.

Souls unite –
through the cracks of sin.

I transcend
into more than bone and skin.

Something beautiful is created
when into it enters the light.

not as old
as the mountains
or the trees
in the redwood forest

He’s moving slower
not as slow
as the Galapagos tortoise
he moves with purpose

His body’s softer
not as soft
as goose down
but soft enough
to wrap my arms around
and feel protected

He's lighter colored
not as light
as an albino
or a ball of floured
pizza dough
the darker hairs
have turned gray
the blush of crimson
on his face
has melted into butter
but I could love no other

for all that thinking
your liver's damaged
from all that drinking
Your heart’s too broken
from all the hurting
your arms too stretched
from all that reaching
your spirit squashed
from all that trying
still morning comes
again, you’re rising

on the ceiling fan,
lying carpet of grey strands.
Flying blades circle overhead
moving heat through the chalky

air. Dust bunnies hiding
underneath the bureau and rocking
chair. Under the four-post bed
they roast. As foie gras

on toast they sit plump. Dumped
on the valance and curtain. Unbalanced,
the slightest wind and they’ll fall
for certain. On the shelf they cover

her books. In the nooks they lay
as a clump of potter's clay. On the hardwood
floor swept up with the broom. Upon death
she'll be dust in the ground with her groom.

Lift these sagging *****
With an underwire bra
Lift my bad mood
like a shining star
Lift the mean of the world
like my shampoo
Lifts the dandruff
Out of my scalp too
Lift my sad eyes
With a broad smile
Lift all my defenses
With compassion
Lift these mistakes
With forgiveness
That’s all it takes
Lift my spirit
Like a helium balloon
Put a song in my heart
Float me away
Not a moment too soon
Lift love
Like it was leaven
In bread
We don't need hate
The world needs a face-lift
And fast
It's not too late
Don't let time pass!

The baby cries
Never smiles
Won’t be comforted within your arms
Put him in his baby swing
You didn’t know it autism

The toddler never plays
With the other children
Always stays to himself
He doesn’t drive the toy trucks
He lines them up
You didn’t know it autism

The preschooler doesn’t talk
But his vocabulary his that of a boy in the
second grade
His comprehensive language better than
his expressive
And he always throwing temper-tantrums
You didn't know it was autism

The teachers complain
He can’t sit still
Stares off in space
Won’t join at circle
Other children don’t like him
You didn’t know it autism

The doctor says there is no cure
You scream and curse
And want answers
Now you know it was autism

as the golden leaves
of autumn. You broke
free of the tree and hit

bottom. You splintered
from the cold brisk breeze
of winter. Even as

the robin sings
you couldn't bloom
in the spring. You, the dusk

demesnes of the night
lost all trickling light.  And as
the loon lays her eggs in June
all you laid were women in ruin.

as the gazelle
swift and graceful
Leap
as the rocket frog
blink and take off
Swing
as the spider monkey
nimble and free
Dance
as the waves in the ocean
make a splash
Shine
as the stars
twinkle in the distance
Rise
as the sun
every morning
with persistence!