Publication Credits

BROKEN GLASS - - Published in Online Ezine's First Edition - Crossroad, Schooled, Lost and Crushed

TURBULENCE - Published in Issue number 7 - Seamstress

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Not Here

Doesn't matter how many tries,
watching her pack things away,
it's moving day, her heart is in
every box waiting for the truck

My hope marks all of them
but handle with care

the empty room left neat,
the quiet, bittersweet

she holds her disposition under an elbow
2 pencils do their job,
one holds her hair, one behind her ear
a pen, betwixt teeth

she is reading and thinking
and filing and remembering
and testing and trying and
listening and loving and living

and packing
and leaving

"See you next month for dinner Mom!"

a moment

and I run out of the house in stocking feet with her ... pen

I see her 3 year old face, can almost hear....

"Don't forget this, do you have everything?"

"Yes, yes Mom, it's fine."

We stand there, loose piece of hair,
a habit, I tuck it behind her ear,
she leans in and hugs me goodbye
I do not cry,

not here.


light washed,
spectrum bent
Pearl wears a
clam-shell necklace

her throat-choked words
glide behind time, edged
perception, light borrows
a split second eye-twitch

skin tight, weathered face
blows a smoke ring, might
be scary if skittish fear didn't
flutter on her shoulder,

baneful butterfly, vellicative world
occupies your attention, licks your ear,
raven whispers, smiles at the clams
in your shaking hands

Word of the Day Series

Saturday, December 25, 2010

The Twelve Steps of Christmas

I think it's funny that Twelve
has an elf in it, tripped up your
steps counting, reek rum
lost your coffee, wish me
Happy Thanksgiving when
it's only Easter

You sound like Ozzy,
not Harriets husband
that other loud one,
and you keep losing my number

I am not outstanding, never
have been

You are mad, your insolent
heart, trembling hands

Grabs my vintage lilt,
whisper screams at the window,
draw a smiley, watch it cry
in the fog

I think it's funny that sad
rhymes with, I can't call you,
I keep losing your number,
drink my coffee wishing you
a happy Father's day, when
it's only Christmas

Monday, December 6, 2010


cool, cruel, fractious
bend and bow
meandering soul hears
flapping tongue
full of razor blades
can't just play
sit and spin
can't get up

legs out, feet up,
hand over hand
over hand

oh baby,
you tried

you also failed
big irascible monster
at first licks softly,
screams down, to ravage,
bites down hard,
not hard enough to break skin
but hard enough
to make you cry

Word of the Day Series

Sunday, December 5, 2010


you could hear
the unprepared panic
of the quiet one
sitting way in the back,
hair strand nervously
tucked behind an ear

sandglass nerves
resonate with clicking heels
slow, up one way and down
each military aisle,
single file
heads bent
try, fail, erase, try,

face glued to paper biopsy
no eye stretching,
reaching outside, into
another's assay
never a head movement
oh, never that

or the invigilating
clickity heels
might see, might
get her
very big ruler out

Word of the Day Series

Saturday, December 4, 2010


color of lightlessness,
edge of hesitation

dilated pupils inhale
dark into blue and

you can
if you

bleeding tears

and just peer inside

stop, wait;


silent, sentient
barely breathing

feel her rush
bite your ear
whispers gone by

Word of the Day Series

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Moving Picture

Die of boredom, good girl,
almost caught a movie, but
beauty takes the night with a purse full of glitter,
slung sideways, bounce on hip, inviting.

"Club Men," the drinks are heavy handed,
raw music lights throb red
flirtatious on pretty thighs
and she loses herself in the crowd.

Sparks catch,
black cat petals play bright blue eyes,
smiles play siren songs,
bodies melt,
music's lazy so
she lets go,

Disco ....

says, "Let's go."

Die of Boredom, good girl,
almost caught a movie, but
crimson climbs into lustful pulsing,
pin pricks feast on cocksure casualty,
and she scratches lonliness into flesh.

Patches of lovedust stay on the doorknob,
the mirrored ceiling plays a show.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010


raw, malicious hunger
scandal bleeds
violent weave

empathy leave
vitriolic, vile
bitter peeve

malignant, naive
tickle miasmic
outrageous hate

to create
repulsive spite
feed, inflate

urge, masterbate
fingertip slurp
inhuman teethe

devour, spit, seethe
no real need
to breathe

Monday, November 29, 2010


One way baffle gate,
faster, your mouth moves.
Bitter, resentful things
assaulting, suffering
can't get through the blue.

Your head, it throbs
with blistered light
then fades perhaps because this way
is wrong because this night
is going going gone,
until today as I am going
I fade

Friday, November 26, 2010


glitter water
thistledown, severe clear
crisp, blue-bright

painting sleep
cloudscape ink
nature's texture,

blackbird ballads,
winter's nests suspended,
deeply anticipating

Word of the Day Series

Tuesday, November 16, 2010


watch lips move
beautified, bookish,
cultivated conversations

mind says excited,
"hear that?" book shakes,
tender heart, looks up the

pages move on their own,
bewildered birds,
don't be afraid, awareness,

shy fades in this light,
esoteric, enchanting circles,
my right foot plays hokey pokey

my bones feel less fragile,
do I fit in if there's nothing
written in between the lines?

steady, trust, when a sparkle
throws wind in your wings, smile at it,
dance in it, fly, belong in your

Word of the day Series

Saturday, November 13, 2010


world phase,
who is my enemy?
is weakness born
bloodied, inside of me?

hostile grime
shines dirty, oiled
run, run, RUN!
your name cracks
on the edge of my voice,

God, I love your
stubbled face
and my aggression
doesn't speak of war
but that you are in it

I put it away,
pray, that contention
is only there for you
when you need it
and that you feel the pride
from this, other side

my mind sees peace
by a lake, on a pond,
float downstream
bellicose meets-

and this is why
I'm not in charge of the world,
my military
would leave soldiers
on the steps of
their mother's archway

everyone would see,
even the enemy,
rage reprieve, mercy

Word of the Day Series

Thursday, November 11, 2010


from depth
comes charm,
collected glimmers
paint settled fragments,

footprints restore
whispered love,
snuggle in
innocent invention

the very best
pieces of me
did not leave with me,
dream true, I love you,
my vestige

Word of the Day Series


A procession, unbalanced,
sways upon my cords.
My pen's rearrangement
continues to incense me.

Inevitability states that my name
will never become hallowed,
but I wish for a grace
to touch hearts
leaving an imprint
deep inside.

Someone special to me heard my plea
before I ever uttered a single word.

She pulled tight on broken strings
and tied them lovingly into pretty bows.

Resignation of thought
was dangling there
but with persistence,
my master of marionette
maintained her impression
and gently guided my hand
in the art of "polish."

"To concede challenges nothing,"
my very own Ghepetto said.

"Pieces of work will only develop along with you."

I am not a puppet.
I am the receiver
of kind instruction, dipped
sweetly into golden glitter,
the kind that transforms a heart
with one single solitary suggestion,
to stand beating on the outside.

My mentor, my Ghepetto.

She means more to me than words.

One day, I hope
within a heart that yearns to
create the absolute in FLY- paper,
she will cut my strings,
blow into the wind
my name,
and, beside her, I will soar.

For Barbara Quanbeck, always teaching,
always encouraging, making me believe in "someday"
I love you, my Ghepetto.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Fire Glow

sleepy fire glow lashes
settle into dreams,
persevering mentor
firm sincerity

hesitating, wanting,
eyes on the skies,
elementary foothold,
clumsy fireflies

lashes beating,
catch air, can't fly,
suffer, self-defeating
try and try
and he urges, purges
hands idle, unseen
compassionately feeds
stuttered starts in between
gives sweet selfless knowledge
to souls empty, in need
gently blows golden wing dust
for beautiful speed

time for the test
doctor of wise
artful, devoted,
caring, quiet sighs

sleepy fire glow kindled
light up the night sky
never forgetting, who
encouraged them to fly

Dedicated to Dr. Charles A Ferguson
who has invested his heart in the art of teaching.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

The Unknown

eggshell footfalls
bring no light to the edge,
trip up the step,
choke on answers,
hold your head steady,
tremble, sway,

apprehension leaks
a pattern,
finger swirled in
the time taken
wasted, even rocks thrown
force no splash back

this bitch, this scratch of
sorry need,
just creeps panic,
too much,
the unknown,
the fear of it

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Saturday Morning

Pale legs smooth against yours,
welcome warmth,
like blowing your hands
alive in the cold,
you are my waking comfort
blanket of adoration,
reeling me in,

I stare at the pink edges of
a peeking sun arrival
my head gently
lifts and falls,
lifts and falls
by the life of you
slowly dreaming
softly breathing
close my eyes
making me wish
was this,
Saturday morning

Friday, November 5, 2010


lovely lives
in grass and oats
healed up blisters,
soft love notes

lunch with kids
peanut butter and jelly
catching laughter
butterfly belly

sit down charming
deep autumn red
paint the sky brilliant
wing-float overhead

cliche breathing
eyes close on a smile
kick out the welcome mat
hope stays for awhile

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Watching the Merry go Round

I often wonder
what it would be like
to ride that horse

bet it would give me better posture
I mean really,
what else to do with all that pride?

wonder how hard
I'd have to hold on
:::smiles inwardly::::

truly a better image seen
would be winsome hair blown by breeze
than the backside flailing madly

just a sideline stare from this mare
courage just sort of sits
on my back like a fly

my luck, it would turn out
to be a just a pony and besides
merry-go-rounds make me nauseous

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Rush of Harsh

rush of harsh
energy flows
feeds, grows
begins at your toes
bruises your insides
tears you apart
sentimental sweetheart
spreading thin, break apart
slices your neck
petaled kiss flushes rose
sadness grows
except your head, it knows
without your heart
why your insides are laced
with the front of your face
finger tear-trace
insensible eyes
let go of desire
water the fire
rush of harsh

Tuesday, October 26, 2010


she touched my cheek
erotic, deliberate
insanity napping with
double headed
monster's eyereach

my soul  naked,
carnal, swelled muse music,
hands compose aching
love twists
painting my energy

earthy momentum
loved me,
gave impetus to reach inside
wrap the warmth around
my hands that shake

and hurt sweetly where she touched them
throb softly, every time she thinks of me

Word of the Day Series

Saturday, October 23, 2010


scattered pieces,
innocent devotion clings to lint
sticks in between
cracks in the floor boards
I pick, carefully put
disgraceful devastation into my pocket

staining the wood over and over
working myself out of the ambush
of such a long time ago
finding that slippery,
surreptitious love
is as good for you as fast food

running running
away goes my mind

you will never know how ugly is unlearned,
your sharp, secretive undercover skills
made me want to crawl on the ground
because dirty felt good, felt even,
your stealthy, back-door, dangerous smiles
still live in my head and now

I'm wishing I could grow
God-damned wings.

because I'd meet you on a private wire,
sing my sad love song, sweet, out of key,
watch your disappointed face glower
at respite tears that stain,
place into your warm palm
all that I have of you from my pocket

Word of the Day Series

Sunday, October 17, 2010

I've Got the Music in Me

lustful score
ego ideal
primitive ballad
sex appeal
subconsious urge
tender freak
refrain, submerge

Thirst, oh yeah
exactly what
euphonic love

heavy breath
music sheet

honeyed whispers
songlike, sweet
carnal blue
stunned downbeat
treble heart
music made
final note
gently laid

Tribute to one of the greatest bands of all time

Friday, October 15, 2010


Windmill marvels brilliant blue sky,
eastbound into dry wheat country
only one hour away.
The beautiful part of the scenery lies comfortably in my mind.
I can smell familiar flavors
and hear our laughter coming hard, so fast and easy.
You'll see it here and there
in photographs taped and framed all over the place.
Life is soft and familiar here
and my foot feels heavy
in pursuit of just being there sooner.
I see "Welcome Home" when I pass the sign
telling me 10 more minutes to my destination, haven.
My smile comes easily, my shoulders drop, I feel light
free and wonderfully ready
to watch gentle hands holding on to memories
that will outlast our lifetime.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010


Do you know what I know?

Scarlet heart squeezed tight through chains
the heavy gray digging in

Blood spills with each pump

she sings

"There's a hole in the bucket"

she hums

"dear Liza, dear Liza"

Tears wrung through with mop water
the stain grows darker
but still, she scrubs

a scrub

Monday, October 11, 2010


My politician resents my penny
just because it's copper.
Any blind man can see
that a wise fool
stands a one hundred percent chance
at successful loss
with such mindless thinking.
Guess I'll go to work, and play.

Laughing tears at what
a penny finds, I dig deeper,
and I am promised
premeditated spontaneity,
salted with open disclosure
of organized chaos,
quiet screaming into shallow deepness,
and new, traditional, tiny mountains
of truth in advertising,
not to worry though,
all will be signed with invisible ink.

and so the uninterrupted
commercials continue,
knowledgeable of nothing,
Winning Washington!
::slaps forehead::::
Now "there's" an Oxymoron!!

Where they can sit up, terribly pleased
dancing as puppets with no strings,
hiding within our support of course,
apologizing profusely with no remorse, because
a lovely, tanned smiling face with frown
is a politician standing upside down.

Word of the Day Series

Sunday, October 10, 2010


when the world is no longer subtle
twisted turnabouts
scattered photographs
shallow light
filled with love,
so uneven and yet,
so there,
to be in

balance beams smile
free space outright
lovely creature invite
enchanting in stride
retreat inside
baked shell shy

sparkle water winged light
stages blissful sighs
walking, looking for what might
feed the next breath of life
to fly by, inspire
humbling mind's eye

survive by
sweet nature's high
afterimage outside
stagger justified
defiance of time
get up again and try,

a pathway might straighten
still life reflection makes you,
part of the beautiful
breathing, life simplied
so moving on the exhale
to come alive
live deep inside
what is sublime.

Word of the Day Series

Monday, October 4, 2010


between shifts of light
spirits give bird's wings
to ashen bones
to drift
eyes catch, glide
private dance, slide
landscaped laugh lines
come alive!

make this
emerald kingdom
mine to settle into
held affectionately
enough of a moment,
sweet, willowy
warm breeze
teaches light,
reaches dark,
kisses soft,
naked shoulders,

of slight

of hold
so easily

wrapped, breathless,
twisted to come
slowly undone

weaving shifts of light
through blind flying,
elevated cloud-woven
thoughts of
liquid heaven
you can fly through

Word of the Day series

Wednesday, September 29, 2010


planted seed
of inherent need.

yearning, lock
a mind's eyes
instinctive latch,
grasp and cry
don't let go

cover me with embers,
curled in, petrified pose,
radiate the heated love
that pours
and burns
leaves marks
keeps traits
born into me

Word of Day series

Sunday, September 26, 2010


Faith brings to me
water beating on leaves
beside beautiful trees
that poignantly speak
in brilliant green

Palms to the sky, why?
Eyes closed, to rely,
on only God to get by.

Who washes the river
when love and silver
crash and splinter?

Surface hope's throw
confusingly slow,
aching, wading shallow,
sorry casual approach
and it remains to be so
a conundrum composed.

Word of the day Series

Friday, September 24, 2010


taking love
skinless, consistent
making hate

watching blind
embracing dreams
covered, exposed

arms wide open
defeat, achieve
heart beats alive
blood on sleeve

deep inside
outside, within
watch an end
begin again

Word of Day series

Thursday, September 16, 2010


Child's replay,
repetition scrapes
his tender age.
Gesture in triplicate,
otherworldly rage.

Doctor's speak,
shatter heart's pleas
feel him counting pieces.
Chanted love in threes,
whispery releases.

Scissors cutting, shy
cutting circles, by and by,
half moon scraps go into piles,
maybe, he will notice why, why
he's cutting, cutting smiles.

Word of the Day series

Monday, September 13, 2010


Down to earth
from where?
Radius vector
reads in degrees
and it is so hot in here.

Tis a straight line
unless you circle 'round.
Walk with me
where sensational quiet
resonates with sound.

Some are mechanical,
biologically sired.
Word vectors.
if there's such a thing
are greatly admired.

Incensed by direction,
defined by so few.
Vector is contagious
as is learning
something new.

(First in Word of the Day series)

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Remembering Shakespeare

"A coward dies many times before his death. A valiant dies but one death." And in that death, finds peace...

Whistle sweet around trees,
music melts into sun-blasted
bagpipe melancholy,
lifts golden, pulsing leaves
blazing light into your smile.

steady as he goes
you were left
you went
and yet
we are left

with warmth feeding brilliance,
steadfast affection watching shaking hands
reaching out with brotherhood, affinity
recollected, remaining vivid
remembering to never forget you
and we won't, we won't

We'll find the beautiful memories etched inside of our hearts like photographs. While we are with each other we will find the ones that make us tip our heads back and belly-laugh. We'll feel the arms once around us still there while we tell stories and talk about your antics, your pranks, we'll take turns remembering when you were little, so cute, so young, so alive...alive....alive....

and when the night comes, soft flowers
on breezes will find those
pictures painted into our hearts,
sealed inside of our souls,
sweet memories that make us pause,
and then,
we'll breathe a little for you sweetheart,
for that moment when you had to figure out
how to leave us, and in that silence,

we will remember Shakespeare
and all of your dreams
and that you loved us
and that you will live on inside of us
deep inside all of us

You will not be forgotten Brian
I love you

< Brian J Hoyle died on August 27th.  He was killed by a drunk driver.  Please - don't drink and drive>

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Shy and Shameless


shy, a stolen glance,
to land upon softened, grey blue,
swerve, blink bashful, but
not before recognition hits,
he sees the brilliant green
she lowers her lashes, remembers

finding her charming,
familiar and yet different
grey-blue smiles
stares shamelessly,
intense on a return peek

heat splashes breastbone,
works its way up
a slender neck
a, younger, bolder spirit finds its way

quiet gasps of breath
as grey-blue-green
they both laugh

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Torn up Throat

blue-black hole stares
back at me.
ashtray slides
across kitchen table,
sinister backdrop,
torn up throat

saliva drips
inside her neck,
she spits words
"your mom?"
unspoken slips,
"Grandma, she's fine."

the machine sucks,
it's loud
and it sucks

this sucks
her mind
and blows
still breath
no air

senses lost
staring deeply back at me

blue-black backdrop,
everyone's smoking,
slide the ashtray
and her eyes shine,
sorry to do it
light one up,
smells so good
to her torn up throat.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Dreams To Me

found me
so sweet
stalked up
sang dream
songs to me.

He said
he'd teach
brain bleed
love songs
and he'd
marry me.

I said
hold on
as there
are just
two things.

my soul
I show
so sad
backward wings.

he kissed
my cheek
it bled
it spread

Turned me
who will
love him

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Bird Flies Heavy

Barefoot beach,
walk silent, stand
Blood-red hearts
upon the sand

Hungry beauty,
white feathered dive
emerges black,
half alive

Squint, look up
through shaking hand
Heartbroken, defeated,
she tries to land

Years will come
you'll see
you'll cry

A bird flies heavy in the sky

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Cotton Candy and Lemon Drops

I like cotton candy 'cause it melts in my mouth as I eat it.

It is sweet,
yet not so sweet that it overshadows my senses.
It just adds to the whole experience.

Your closeness,
a sweet, melting sensation
just like cotton candy.
Remembered visions have me kneeling
by the edge of my bed.
A traceable scent on the brink of my mind
finds me, invades me,
permeates my prayers.

Now I lay me down to sleep

Did you know that is why I always
sneaked into your purse?
I'd search through the sweet and soured depths,
finding inside pockets,
bright lipstick, Cotton Candy Pink #5.
To paint that smile on my own young mouth
and hear you say,
"What a beautiful smile!"
And then you'd let me look for candy....

I don't like lemon drops 'cause I don't like the flavor.

They just don't appeal to me.
Maybe it is because they are sour.
It's a matter of taste.
I prefer watermelon.

That one day when I found the lemon drops,
I thought I'd struck gold, until I choked on one.
Grandma put her arm around me and
told me we'd be living at her place for awhile.

I now know why they dip lemon drops in sugar.

Momma? I miss you.
I wish my hands could paint pictures of the sky
when I see your face in a pink-cloud sunset.
I think I own every tube of Cotton Candy Pink # 5
and still listen for your voice when I wear it.
And I still carry your purse because, once in awhile,
I like to take a lemon drop out and suck the sugar off.

from Cotton Candy and Lemon Drops 2001

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Freeze Frame

Panoramic arctic beauty,
vernal thimbles gleam through
winter white cloud pillows,
downy filled by tiny snowflakes.

"There's a hole there!"

William, Percy, John, and Sam look upon Lord
who will not hear of it being sewn shut.
Turning up the music, Lord stands, says,
"We shall intimate ourselves again, gentlemen."

His eyes soft,

He picks up the cloud and shakes it
into the spirit hands covered with thimbles
sewing beauty blankets
to drop soft and slow from the sky.

Freeze frame
the music stops
a roof cracks

cold breath finds small paws
that lead to nothing

it's a shallow pan, man
and the trees,
crystal laden, heavy,
are romantically beautiful
and insane.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Scars Inside Walls

uncertain of
so many things
what belies truth
and the pain it brings

being let down
time after time
someone cuts into
and out of your life.

pause though it's
brief, ghost riding through town
is there hope for indifference
when your heart is facedown?

peace finds it's way,
survived in your soul
cuts, they still linger
but you remain whole

stronger for this
new scars make you humble
buried inside the walls
that will never crumble

Wednesday, July 7, 2010


Her pregnant pen
swallows the page,
a mindless fiasco,
fragments of rage.

Massage the bruise
accept, refuse,

your heartbroken muse,
must feed it.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Heaven's Moon

Silent dreams of heaven
scream the day awake.
Pictures pause, give scenery
flawlessness, fake.
Whiskey hell, blemished tune,
bouncing ball becomes balloon,
the tides turns,
consummation burns
as the spilled roads
across the golden pressed climation
give ordinary pause
to painted, shuttered illumination.

Tragedy finds awe in flight,
efflorescence reaps the night,
'tis fearsome in its bloom,
just this side of heaven's moon.

Belly Foot

oh that you
won't walk on water
but your tiny toes
have outlined my skin
sculpted my soul
into want and need
for the very best pieces of me
to be one day
inside of you

Friday, July 2, 2010


Magnetic splinters should they bind
pressed into palms of chosen beauty.
Passions split, faith intertwined
inside the noblemen's blue-blooded duty.
Parchment wrinkled, bled for ire,
windows smeared with born aggression.
House of glass blistered draught desire,
ineffectual, blackened indiscretion.
Exquisite retraint, her silouette,
expression stone, unfaltered grace.
Filled the hollow, prearranged regret
baneful silence fingering her face.

Swollen fragmentation, to heal a family's lie.
She dreams, consumed in smothering,
a distant newborn child's cry.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Inner Child

torn up bits
sink and float
sink and float

say 5 times fast, toy boat, toy boat

fragmented past
pierces blue
looking out to look at you
see past this flaw
in time to turn

you walk away
I feel the burn

Monday, June 28, 2010

Remnants of Truth from the Cookie Jar

Standing in the doorway
not making a sound,
I watch her.
Some encounters
you just happen upon.
Unable to help myself
I choose to wait and observe
this priceless vision,
wishing I had a camera.
On tippy-toes,
and with the slightest effort,
a hand disappears.
In this very same pose,
with anticipation of capture,
she looks to the left
and then to the right.
Faint sounds of a hand
rummaging cautiously
and finding treasure.
Out it comes.
Evidence vanishing instantly
while the lid slides quietly
back on the jar.
Stifling giggles,
I clear my throat and enter,
stare down into deep blue eyes,
and witness a tiny mouth tightly shut
with just the slightest remnants
of the truth about her chin.
I turn my back and grin
when I hear the quick crunching.
Whirling around
just as she is about to escape
I say, "Would you like a cookie?"
She turns, surprised,
and with a guilty look,
she nods slowly.
Ignoring the crumbs
and her obvious uneasiness,
I reach into the cookie jar
and give her a smile
as I hand her the treat.
I watch her as she takes the first bite.
She eats this one more slowly.
"You know what's true?" I ask,
crunching and enjoying my own cookie immensely.
She carefully shakes her head, side-to-side,
waiting for the answer.
Big blue eyes blinking
as she swallows hard on the last bite.
Ruffling her hair
and brushing crumbs off her chin
I feel the slightest twinge and remember.
So with compassion for the captured
and, with a wink of understanding,
I make my statement.

"I bet this one doesn't taste as good as the first one."

From Cotton Candy and Lemon Drops 2001

Naked Cowboys

Spurs of plastic hit the floor
and don't forget the look.
"To Be a Cowboy Is an Honor"
is his favorite bedtime book.

His holster, he wears
just a little too low,
with guns snapped in
purely for show.

Big hat is tilted
to hide one eye
and it's not at all
because he is shy.

Leather boots that stop
just at the knee-cap.
He's making rounds
before his nap.

Mr. Cowboy Man,
I am so impressed.
He's got his gear on,
but he didn't get dressed.

He had stepped out of the bathtub,
and quickly fastened on his guns.
I think he must feel tougher
when he's showing off his buns.

I pleaded with him fast
to at least put on a shirt.
But with his gun aimed at my nose,
he warned me he would squirt.

I gave him my best smile
and told him, looking sly.
"I poured the water out--
your gun's not loaded, little guy."

But then, you know, those cowboys,
so very fast those feet can run.
He tore out of the bathroom
and I chased him just for fun.

"You cannot walk around like that!"
I yelled as he ran away.
"What if little Jennifer
wants to come over here and play?"

He turned around and pushed up his hat,
and gave me the cowboy stare.
"Don't you try to scare me, Mom,
Jenny doesn't care."

"Naked cowboys, I don't recall
seeing gear on, with a tush to bare."
"Yes, sirree," he said to me,
"they've got them everywhere."

And with that, he took off again,
giggling through the house.
I waited patiently and listened hard
but he was as quiet as a mouse.

I finally found him in the kitchen
"Howdy, ma'am!" he said.
"Could I bother you to fix some chow
or toast me up some bread?"

What could I do? I laughed so hard.
I know for certain, I have been blessed.
For even though he sheds his clothes,
my naked cowboy is the best!
From Cotton Candy and Lemon Drops 2001

Saturday, June 26, 2010


pitchfork stakes this crossroad,
the very blood of me
stains the tines
so quiet and still,
all but for the breathless choke
stand up
dust off my backside
happy memories float on
watch them break apart in the wind
which road to go
run fast,walk slow
just go
switchback into dirt path undertow
sorrow pulls deeply
the ground greets my knees
which way?
emptiness lives inside my sighs
I watch each vacant path
rise and fall in it's own distance
and as the dust filled breath of night
dries my eyes
and the quiet speaks truth into the lies
as steady as one can
I stand
produce the most beautiful
unbelievable wing span
and try
to fly

Tuesday, June 22, 2010


I wandered the heat blasted rocks
and the breathless sway of my vision
pounded my soul.

A poignant heartfire,
face slapped with blank expressions
and panic cradled eternal,
bitten hard,
swallowed whole.

Weary and wicked,
a pondering of being both,
which is so fresh,
so amusing
as if
the choice
were mine
to make.

Hearts stopped beating
for probably just a second
when our eyes connected
and then,

it simply
began to rain.


Wishes turn to ashes,

cool vinyl seats sit empty.

I miss your face

that keeps making me sit up straighter,

roll my neck around my shoulders,

slump and sigh
slump and sigh

the wishes,

OH! the wishes

gorgeous embers burning,


and now
they are just ashes.

Flashes of lashes,

the seats are cool, blue vinyl,
so very heartbreaking

and final.