Publication Credits

BROKEN GLASS -http://www.brokenglasspoetry.webs.com - Published in Online Ezine's First Edition - Crossroad, Schooled, Lost and Crushed

TURBULENCE http://turbulencepoetry.blogspot.com/ - 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
NOT FRAGILE
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.


Vellicative





















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

Irascible

















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

sensitive?
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

Invigilate












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

Sentient





















color of lightlessness,
edge of hesitation
swallowed

dilated pupils inhale
dark into blue and

you can
if you
could

stop
bleeding tears

and just peer inside

stop, wait;
don't

use
your
fingers

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.