Tuesday, November 13, 2012


I am doing that thing again
that hamster on the wheel
when I could be doing other things again
that why do I care more than you thing I do again
a part of me thinks I am preconditioned
pre you before me conditioned
and if you can’t see me
then maybe I am not there
it’s not a charmed life
but there you have it
and there is not enough Cuervo
or Corona
to make this less mirage
make it less painful
make it less than the nothing
it was in its inception
and I imagine myself
sometimes sitting shotgun
to this bad ass lesbian
who knows what the fuck she is doing
we pretend not to notice each other
not to see the us in our eyes
every once in a while we slide
our eyes center see
that we resemble each others intentions
notice we own the same name
the same hands with rings
look away before we get too familiar
if you can’t see me
the way I can’t see me with you
I am pretty sure I am not there

Sunday, November 04, 2012


Before and After

sunlight streaming
through my windows
brightly colored trees
feeling strange
lab specimen
under microscope
murderers and thieves
landscape shift
disappointment pours
waiting to crash
chunks of conversation
heard out of order
hardwood floor
beneath my feet
unanswered questions
stuck in my throat
guilty reflections
in my mirror
distortion of motion
frozen in time
cutting eyes
ironed out expressions
grin misplaced
a smile missing teeth
scars adjusted
darkness has passed
scars adjusted
a smile missing teeth
grin misplaced
ironed out expressions
cutting eyes
frozen in time
distortion of motion
in my mirror
guilty reflections
stuck in my throat
unanswered questions
beneath my feet
hardwood floors
heard out of order
chunks of conversation
waiting to crash
disappointment pours
landscapes shift
murderers and thieves
under microscope
lab specimen
feeling strange
brightly colored trees
through my window
sunlight steaming

Saturday, November 03, 2012


Salem South (3/30)

When he came home for lunch that day, it was just lunch.
Not an event that would leave seventeen families nomads.
It was just lunch. I am sure he did not mean to leave the skillet

used to fry burger, well done smoldering on burner. It was just
lunch. Not some event that would lead to devastation.
Just lunch. When the stay at home moms and dad saw
the smoke signals, when they broke down the door.

Someone must have panicked.
Someone must have panicked.
Everyone knows you do not throw water on a grease fire.
Everyone knows that, right?

Someone threw water on a grease fire and the
flames crawled up the walls like a rash. Seeking higher

purchase. Seeking attic space full of oxygen. Fire loves
oxygen that is how it learns to breathe out loud. Seventeen
families will lose everything. Sixteen families will loose everything.
The seventeenth family will recover some.

There is nothing more frightening than light bulbs exploding
and firemen demanding that you leave. My brother and I
made twin bed canoe stowed precious belongings inside
rode it down the stairs. Exiting.

It all went up. All went up in flames over lunch.
We sat on canoe bed refuge eating the Jell-O my sister saved.
Watched all we had burn. Watched water rise to levels
that seemed impossible, It was only lunch.

When the Red Cross came they put us in a hotel. We showered.
Could not wash smoke from our skin. Could not wash smoke
from our skin, our hair for weeks. I remembered the story.

The story told by my mother about the phoenix.
How it burst into flames and rose from it’s ashes.
I want to ask her if ashes from a rushed lunch counted.
Wondered if we could rise from the ashes that were now
our life. Wondered if I could ever stomach lunch again.

Friday, November 02, 2012



The parking lot was well lit.
The passers-by pretended not to see.
My mother’s long hair fist snatched
by unknown father’s rough hands.
There was no foreplay.
No music.
The only sounds were scuffle and scream.
Nothing shut down.
The fear kept everything present.
Had I known I would become the gift of God
in this violent act, I would have chosen not to come.
I came when he did.
Became ward of the state at the exact moment.
A deal struck.
Two parents unknown to me.
This blessing,
gift from God.



My only regret is that I let you take her. Let you
sway bend her view of me. I believed she was
bullshyt proof. You proved me wrong. She lacked
the faith in me that I once lacked in myself, so
I understand on a level. I believe what happened
was supposed to happen they way it happened.

Turns out lies have a shelf life. The passion you
showed while damning my name confused the
listeners. They could not tell if you hated me or
wanted to fuck me. I think it was both. Turns out
I have a type. I let you take my type away.
Let you fuck us both over, and not in the fun way.

Turns out regrets wear the same eyes in the light.
She sees me from time to time. Wants to approach
but can’t get past the no resting in my eyes. Your
eyes were so focused on me you couldn’t appreciate
the treasure that you stole.
My only regret is that I let you take her.

National Poetry or Novel Writing Month

I am going to make an honest effort to get through the whole month. I have a lot of stuff this month but I am my own business so I have got to work it!! I will be revising older stuff left neglected too long and sharing some prose as well. I have another story for Cheyenne, but that's my other blog. So, Here. We. Go.