Publication Credits

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

TURBULENCE - Published in Issue number 7 - Seamstress

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.


hungry eyes
solicit chatterbox lips.
Mindful wishes creep,
eyes close wearily.
Dreams fall into
all day illusions.
Oh, how she wants,
but "NO!" sequesters whispered perfection,
soft brushed breath,
slender neck
groans without permission,
speaks backstep load with reproaches,

crumbling her into
hundred million

d i sp i r it e d
p ie c es.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Love is Blind

Silhouettes and shadows slow dance
through stimulated senses.
Without a rainbow to elaborate,
love and compassion are driven down to the elbow.

Fingertips glide softly, slowly
and I wonder if this feels statuesque
or if my breath beating on the palm stretched
brings a different color.

Your hands are so warm
You are so beautiful

I can only stare

Morning Glory

Morning Glory;
Entwining blooms kiss the sunrise.
Morning Glory;
Heads bowed together, sweet story.
Wistful lover knots vines and ties
delicate buds to charm your eyes
Morning Glory.