The Sweet Blue Child

The sweet blue child

fears nothing more than time.

Pink rimmed eyes

and thick chapped lips

and a loose arm drags behind

as her red mother leads the way.

All here and in the maze of space

simultaneously.

Lacking the strength to collapse

into the fetal position,

or into my cashmere arms,

she stumbles from foot to foot.

A wet glaze of tears;

fresh and freezing to the cheek.

The crimson mother, a distracted

and thick women,

swims through the crowd

Each breast a sagged cushion

and the stomach, a low dipped pool.

The sweet blue child

knows how blood works, and

knows how blood changes

when exposed

My indigo baby

Won’t dare breathe

or let time do it’s ticking

on her body

The fall

I'm 13
Mommy's locked me in my bedroom
not by force
but with her words

I'm
afraid of my own body
and what it may attract

She
reads my sins aloud
from an unlocked diary
once under a mattress
and steals all my pens

I'm
left wordless,
three floors up and
aimed for the balcony

The real need for flight
comes with the curves of a women

And so I steal away the screen
and connect all the hangars
and all the leotards
and attach it to the bed wheel

We all knew it would snap
and my 13 year old limbs would smack on the barbecue
and my body would line with fresh bruises
alive in its new bones

At your first glance
I'll be thinly lined as if with a scalpel
and the knees will still bend
and the lung will still float

Come to my hand
The thick flab of skin
dangling from the thumb
Knuckles bared
a white bone

The flap from the nail to the joint.
an earlobe of flesh
Holding it in place
reconnecting to its root

Funny how pain distracts one
wrapping the wound
I return to prison
unlock the top latch
and stow away to my barred bed

Sink into the sting
Into the reality of gravity
I've found my vice

The Flu

So much sick so little time. I have the flu and it's giving me writer's block:(

Baby

I want to collapse into your arms

Lung Cancer

Limp cigarette dangling

An orange fizzled spark

The slow receding ash

And the smooth white waves that seep away 

noiseless






Anger

Love poem to younger self

Sideways on the bed

Her hand clasping her cheek

The hint of afternoon sneaking through the window

A gold bar of light touching her skin

Drawing out the shadows of her body

The thick thigh

The clumsy limbs

The arched spine

The shoulders-a fall of silk

The hair a rumpled muss

A stray touching her lip

Her eyes dark and wide in curiosity

Each breast a heavy swoop

A pale hint of cold surrounds her

A case of youngness

Is the fault

To Sissy

To sissy, sitting at the register

Golden haired and rosy

Counting a thousand pennies

I hide behind the shelves

Of Grammy’s craft shop

Touching all her ribbons

Picking the one

That will make me most pretty

I love you sister

The Train

Sweet sweaty blood sucked on by mosquitoes

Flattening the brush with my curved young body

The eight soldiers of a spider flicker

Everything crisp and breakable

Eyes level with the train tracks

At the rocks' shudder I place my pennies down

Say goodnight to Hamlet, shutting his pages

Sound the alarm at the far off whistle

A tube of smoke and a rattled metal wave

Tossing textbooks to the side

Saying goodbye to my October lovers

Planting a final seed among the wreck

Nearing, quickening, the angry rusted cage

And jump

Arms out, knees muddy, stomach an excited downward pit

Hello my loud and heavy Death

Sweet sweaty blood sucked on by mosquitoes

Hiding out in the attic

At the sound of your footsteps

My hand full of almonds,

a book of Hughes

and one yellow jolly rancher

I tiptoe out of my skin

Leave it in my bed for you to take

and hasten to the attic

I open her up and climb her steep stairs

careful of her creaks

A pitch black hollow case

I'm screaming in my old bones

at the coldness of your shadow

Sucking steadily on my candy,

laughing off how naked I've become

I've formed a hard scar of pink hairless skin,

it hasn't any nerve left

We've no room for any beauty in our world

to show itself through our highest window

even in our darkest night

I see only the reflection in the glass 

of what you created in her

At moon rise I drift between his arms and mine,

I suck between candy and hate

Death confronts me, asking, "why do you stay?"

I lay my body on the tracks like a damsel to be flattened

and stand when the whistle blows

because, my life is also hers

and my pain must swallow sin

Daughter is just a pig for the slaughter

I've married my fate,

I'll live for my torture

and dissolve all my being to a flat scab

I pick up my body and crawl down the steps,

hands splintered and heavy,

barely anything to give

I thank her for her time,

she closes in relief,

and to the young bedside I take my soul,

and kiss real eyelids that flutter with dreams

My body drags itself to it's chamber

and though to fight is torture,

She screams in the king's ears

She takes the swift ambush of bruises,

the body a cleaned out cushion,

the time passed in the counting of wishes lost,

the blood dried and the tears sticky

and scrubs her skin in peroxide

Embracing her future on the inside

leaving the king crying and empty

Telling herself she's still alive,

her stomach a fist full of pits,

her mother a beautiful mass of sobs,

the future queen unaware of her future,

the king a frightened distraction

Knees up he sits by her bedside,

and all he's done immerses his skin

Hey Marxy Boy

"Hey Marxy boy, come on back!"
The movement aint movin' fast enough.
"We have quiet riots and tired whiners and silly little children talkin' big talk"
Dancing propaganda mannequins prancing
'round the campfire dissing daddy warbucks
"Come on back, paper writer and big man fighters"
Small shops on the chopping block so chop the wires
Get the fire growing in their bellies
past their monuments and governments
and industry of agony
Get news higher, right on past the town crier
who died on a bench from the cold just waiting for an opportunity to arise
So let's grab our Trumps and burn 'em
on the stake while we replay all the mistakes that they made
"You know the change is beggin for speakers, for provers"
No weak hearts
Come criticize all our damn owners, own them up
Stock holders with bulging wallets should grow up
Ecstasy of the rich life is treating them well
The high life of the American dream makes them
piss and puke on the street
from their thousand dollar red wine
Well before you tell the hooker, "get a job you filthy slob"
remember doors don't open so easily on the other side
A sidewalk high may be all that she can be
No place past her cheap motels
and just a dollar means something to a broken dreamer with a dream

The Fire

When mommy was pregnant

our building caught fire

choking her up on the 16^th floor

Daddy wasn’t home

I was just a fetus

Safe and sound in her round belly

but I’m sure the stairs jiggled me

An out of service elevator

Sissy was not yet two,

a slow walker,

so mother used her hip

A wobbling, heavy, tumbler

One hand holding the fish bowl

the other my sister,

the rabbit hopping slowly behind

Sissy crying, her perspiring

Sixteen floors later

safe and sound on the outside

comes comfort at the bottom

We lost the rabbit

winter

They prospered

I took a train to the place

where I sinned my worst sins.

Back when God climbed in my belly

and made me sick with guilt

and mommy and daddy

screamed the bible in our ears

then spanked away our spirits.

Still, the old house stands

among the others quietly.

The shed still stacked with firewood

and the grass grey and wispy.

Mommy and daddy prospered,

moved on to bigger houses

and far off cruises.

Left me with the sins I told them

in a fit of illness one evening.

Eight years old,

shuddering with tears,

unaware that young girls

often falter on the path to womanhood.

Sex is not what I once thought it was.

To her maker

You have bleached her skin,

rose her from the dead,

peeled away her decay

with your two hands.

You grated away all her cracks and lumps

then polished her to a shadow.

A new shape,

a rubbery clean slab of a thing.

Flawlessly renewed to young

the winter coloured fake.

To touch her is to touch a doll,

a cool stone mantle.

Too new a thing.

Too bright to stay near.

A taut stretched disguise,

each cheek a smooth white egg

and not a hint of blood underneath.

That dug up, stone of a woman

so far from fragile, a maze of fingertips,

all solid throughout.

Truro, Nova Scotia

On the white porch of our old home

in this sad small town

left disastrous by hurricane

I sit on the rocking chair

we inherited from grandma

and suck on my wooden reed

My hands swiftly create

my music machine

Tears rolling down my

chubby child cheeks

because daddy hit me

and music is dramatic

and I know mommy is

plotting her escape out the window

But her pregnant belly imprisons her

and my music makes her sadder

I want mommy to feel it,

how my cheek stings,

and to see the way music proves me

and how the old porch

creaks underneath

while daddy rests solemnly in her lap

Young brother masturbates

When brother first found himself
a tug, a short nub of flesh
at once noticed

The skin a wrinkled pink tail
his chest still a bare board
a pin south his tummy

In his bed, hiding on his side
all under the covers,
his pants in a bundle
at the bottom of the mattress

With his prayer hands
rubbing and pulling
the anxious creature

He, who's hands flop to his sides
at any night sounds

His head hung guiltily
as mother washes him

A small rise

New found pleasures
too hard to understand
yet thoroughly they shame him

Raspberries

It’s rowed, aisled

in most places clean cut

we pick in the wild

raspberries grown freely

covered in frosted-over dew

They bleed all over our hands as they melt

and smell sweeter than ripe melon

We make baskets of our shirts

young and flat-chested,

nearly boys

our knees bruised and scabby

our hair a flop on top

Sister runs to the cliff

a flash of yellow hair and sunburnt cheeks

Waves bash angrily

wetting our bare chests

we stuff our mouths

full of berries

and jump

Thank you

Thank you for anti depressants
Thank you for Anne Sexton, Ted Hughes, and Sylvia Plath
Thank you for red wine
Thank you for Indian food and Pad Thai
Thank you for making love, and kissing my spine
Thank you for the times when mommy and daddy are so kind
Thank you for Buddhism, and Christianity
Thank you for Socrates and his witty dialogues
Thank you for cigarettes when I'm happy, sad, lonely, angry, and bored
Thank you for showing me the importance of a dollar
Thank you for the Occupy movement
Thank you for the Montreal Canadiens. Even though they keep getting too many men penalties, and not trying
Thank you for Leonard Cohen and Closing Time
Thank you for my ex boyfriend Sean Flanagan who taught me a lot about film
Thank you for Bill MacGillivray and his talent for teaching the most important lessons
Thank you for stained glass windows
Thank you for Orange juice
Thank you for sapphires and the word 'organic'
Thank you for helping me understand aesthetics
Thank you for my body
Thank you for all my injuries and scars
Thank you for my pain tolerance
Thank you for my sisters who are some of the greatest girls/women in the entire world
Thank you for letting me have hundreds of friends and not a friend in the world
Thank you for the people who harassed me, threatened me, and hurt me
Thank you for fire and the way it soothes me
Thank you for hot showers and for cold showers
Thank you for Doctor Littlejohn and his brilliant methods
Thank you for letting me have this experience
Thank you for dressing how I want and not caring
Thank you for Europe and the chance of going someday
Thank you for the economic crisis
Thank you for all my regrets and the guilt they caused me
Thank you for letting me lose my friends and learn to move on
Thank you for sweaters, boots, peeing, and heartbreak
Thank you for all the horrible people in the world for having so much character
Thank you for vision and for blindness
Thank you for blood, jumping, trains, and the river in front of my house
Thank you for God and how I fear him
Thank you.

I stole their rocket

I went and stole their rocket

I went up past the high gold Buddhist temples

Past the pressed metal factories

Over the gunshot brotherhood

And even beyond Mr. Moon

Just sweeping off his edges,

Peeking down his holes and cracks

And it’s so cold up there

In their thin space lantern

Fragile as an empty shell

But I left all the little ones behind

To keep on, on their own

I left them dangling on the cliffs

And all the worlds behind me

Were tight clenched fists

See, each planet I passed was tinier than tiny

Smaller than you thought they could be

Just hand held little gumballs

Some spinning, others still

Though they all seemed to ignore me

Things up there are pure and silent

No mommies yelling or babies crying

And all the catholic priests end up there

They just float by,

Waving their frail old man fists crossly

I despaired at the thought of the cliff hangers

And doctors and dancers

I left behind on my itty bitty homeland

Just dangling, waiting for answers

And incapable of receiving them

For they would never see the sea of space,

The liquid blackness that swallows anger and sadness

And the emptiness, the pointlessness of routine and religion

Which shows itself clearly up there

All truths as plain as the stars 

The Manic Dancer

A burst of static-down to the neon basement

A manic dancer-cancer pandemic

All set in panic- and twirling on the table tops

Whiskey on the rocks; I’ll do the talking Doc

The dancer’s can’t dance ‘cause I’m full of answers

And the waters not wet and the wet isn’t water

She’s blue eyed and bald, a skinny armed smoker

30 for lapping and 50 for whoring

Well the dancers have cancers and the flappers turned lappers

Just dance on your hard-ons and work through the night

Through the night, and the chemo, the fight and the static

The blue lights and panic, the turpentine bowl

The cherry topped crop top, the 90 pound morsel,

 The half lash black eyelash, the swollen blue eyeball

She’s half full of sex drive, the other half poison

She can’t feel the scalpel ‘cause her skin is frozen

The money don’t add up, the cash drop dropped her off

She’s dying for freedom from cum on the walls

Well cancer cost money and honey you got none

So unscrew the corkscrew and lay down and laugh

Ten bucks in your panties won’t buy you an eight ball

So you have no prospect of life past this drywall

and scream

How sweet it is to make love and scream

In your arms I am a restless wave

A throbbing shudder

A dancing siren wavering on a rooftop

Grasping eternity through you

Buddhism

Buddha I want to achieve you
Stretched out on the hard wood floor
Ears full of ambiance
Utter peace and calmness
The breeze blowing past my neck through the window
I feel your love for all things

I am ready to let go. I am fine.
Love is what I seek. Love and happiness and that will come with acceptance. All things are in a constant state of flux. The change is relaxing and constant. We all wither but in time truth will come. Breath.

Buddha I will achieve the peace
I will seek truth and knowledge and happiness
I will suffer and move on
The dark wraps me in warmth
I feel love for all things

Our Rebellious Man-made Wasteland

We are hiding away in the walk in closet

Taking turns watching the door knob

In our hundred year old house

One lamp, not much else

And once the bulb is hot

We burn coloured plastic

Watching the bubbles of thick melting goo and

Smelling up the wood

Sometimes catching fire

And making crispy edged holes

In our rebellious man-made wasteland

We are careful to watch the knob

For any signs of turning

A trip to the psych ward

What's beyond the orange chair, beyond the glossy hall?

And is the shadow really there or purple on the wall?

Are the lined up all in line or are they all apart?

Is this a whistle in your chest or is it still a heart?

The sleeping girl in 55 has problems in her head

Are we the ones who are alive or are we all the dead?

Your painted pictures fill the walls an imprint of your soul

Is it true insanity or just loss of control?

With walls of blue, and floors of blue what color is this room?

Do you define it by the bed or handle of the broom?

Does one mistake make who you are, is it your only trait?

Is craziness our shining star? Was it by chance or fate?

And so we call the blind man blind, not spirited with glee

His downfall, his entirety is that he cannot see

So all of us are crazy men inside the crazy place

we aren't defined by talents, or by choices, or our faith

The blue man's blue, the dead man's dead, the sea is full of fish

And every whisper is the wind, and every dream a wish

And though my shadow on the wall seems purple and 2D

behind it is a crazy girl who seems a lot like me

The frail aren't strong, the old aren't young, the blind man cannot look

Do you read the inside or the cover of the book?

The new side of the coin

Deactivated my facebook and twitter. Gonna try to take a vow of silence and not speak to anyone just to test my spirituality. I think its something I have to prepare for though. Also I think I'll take out some books on Buddhism and quit smoking pot. I have sociology in an hour and I just really do not want to go at all but I sorta have to.

Constant afternoons

If I were bound to travel round the world

And follow forth the sun in perfect time

Would not I be in constant afternoons?

Would not I come to mountains bound to climb?

If sunset starts at sundown in the place

And wanderers doth follow close behind

Will sunset last eternally to them

Or will the night forever cross their mind?

Would sun stop be a golden happy heart?

Or would'st thou yearn for yellow burning noon?

And should a straggler dare to stop and wait

t'would overcome with terror at the moon

Walk

I am so much stronger than you ever could have imagined
I have done so much more than you ever said I could
And I know that we will find each other down the road
But for now I'm walking alone

9:12

I have options
And somehow that's what bothers me

Above the universe

We are knotted and wrapped
flying through the waves
as if thrown
Rocking on the air's solid stream
in gorgeous chaotic anger

Our bodies have become colors
morphing one into the other
blue into gold into red
Each one accompanied by a shivering cry
a whispered sigh, an ecstasied head rush

We are above our bodies

watching the drumming rhythm from the sky
watching our skins dance, empty of souls
pouring out eternity within moments
a pool of everything else below us
only keeping the necessary particles and energy

Time is irrelevant, time doesn't exist
we are in all things for a second and a lifetime
Our insides have separated, oil and water
a triangle of importance
our bodies at the bottom, our souls at the top

We can watch without our eyes
the past, present and future all in unison
and there is really no difference
we are only just the end and the beginning
of everything else in the worlds chain

because all that is real is right now
at the top of the heap making love
above the entire world, above the universe
In a white space, bodyless, without oxygen
fire or water and still mixed within everything

Abortion

It's night

Your hair is matted in blood
My body is twisted in a knot

The redness is dragging me down
Into the ice pit

I can't move or the probe won't kill the fetus

and the mattress is soaked
and you seem half human and half fish

I hear your nails scratching, chewing metal,
the fosset dripping

I need distraction

I hear my blood, I hear the coal fire inside of me
I hear your acid death baby

and the pill bottle's empty

Thudding, hissing, a red mist in the air
are you suffocating or are you drowning?

Roots to the sky

Come here little one, come feel this breeze
I know the trees seem rooted to the ground
but come stand underneath
and look! We're upside down
And are the trees not rooted in the sky?
No need to stand beside the oak to feel small
just look up, look up little one
See what's up above us
Come and feel the breeze, beneath the trees,
in the shade of our private green canopy
See the way the branches shiver
The fall is coming darling, don't worry when fall comes
we will stand against the burning trees
When our canopy bursts into flames the ashes will fall and fall
but we will stand little one, against all of this
Come on little one,
 let us watch the change and forget how small we are
We control the seasons! Push the breeze, light the trees
Make it bare little one. Roots to the sky

I'd like some quiet

I'd like some quiet!
My head is screaming, trying to tell me everything. Well, go away!
Does each thought have to destroy me?
tearing pieces out of me day and night?

I can't see anymore.
I've had to take out my eyes
They wouldn't leave me alone
They refused to stop replaying all the things around me

Now my eyes have crawled into my skull
where I can't reach them
They play a constant movie
of all the nightmares that were realities

Please, I'm digging through my skin
I'm carving through my flesh
Trying to find the stop, the end to all of this
Oh, all of these goddamn memories!

I'm in an endless dream

I've let the snakes in
I put them in my eyes, my nose, my mouth,  my ears
I feel them pushing through the tiny holes,
searching for good qualities

They've split parts open, my neck is burst
A red half moon with snakes slithering through
I hear them chewing away and I see the back of my skull
playing all the time the time you hit me

Leave me! My body is engulfed in fire
The snakes dance in the redness
I can see myself from far away
Laying there, skin bubbling, melting and no eyes, split open and disappearing

But oh if I go inside my body I just see memories,
feel all the realities of the past and the fire can't distract me
Please finish it, make me ashes, no view of what happened
I want blackness

I want pain in the moment, all the bad men to disappear into nothing
Let the snakes tear me apart, let the fire destroy me, put me into this moment
so I can scream,
God, kill me!

Irene

Mommy woke me up in the middle of the night

terrified the roof might blow away and carry us into the sea

The wind hit everything hard, punching the guts out

slapping and screaming a high pitched note

We took our pillows down the stairs and hid away

watching the ceiling for signs of trauma

and the power was out, everything looked blacker

outside was a shimmering dancer

The whole house shook with the world

We held tight to our pillows, clung to what we could

And soon the storm seemed rhythmic and soothing

and we fell into a deep and calming sleep

In the morning, the sky was a vibrant blue

and though the wind was still angry

it blew only hard enough to shake branches, not roots

But signs of the night before were clear and saddening

The water grew dark  and bashed the shore

in white foaming waves

and the fallen trees looked as if they were born there

born upon the ground, laying over the garden

We called the storm by name

and we did not curse her, it was too soon for that

so we begged her to go far away and she answered in daytime lightning

and far off thunder

She swept away, giddy with our crying

taking mental pictures of her power and her quality

and we took in her destruction and felt cold

felt as if we wanted her to come home

So we sang her a song of pity and begging and got to work on the cleansing of the land

and prayed for the people whom she would take next

that their rooves would stay on, and their trees rooted

and that they to would see her absract beauty

I'm dreaming

I'm dreaming.

I'm underneath truth or maybe inside

I'm trapped in a seperate thought

where I feel more than anything possible

Sharp and vibrant and painful

Everything is clearer, more real and yet I know

I'm dreaming.

I'm biting my knuckles and squeezing skin

and pulling hair and trying desperately to scream

but I'm so real here that escaping is impossible

I climb into the bed to fall asleep, to wake up and my eyes are clamped shut

and my nails are in my skin and my voice is nothing

My voice is air and my heart is whistling

I am dreaming.

I climb out of the bed, out of my skin like a snake

realizing this is half memory, half fantasy

each feeling is pure and stabbing

and all the blood is redder than possible

and hotter than the sun

and I am squeezing these eyes completely shut but I still see everything

I am dreaming

I can tell myself the whole truth here

that I am a sinner and I will never not be

but the truth is killing me

it's too real

I'm screaming nothing

A skinned body

bones in a trash can

Cans on a string

sounding the alarm

I am dreaming

They are all chasing me and I know they will hurt me

and now the pain scares me so I'm running

eternally, I run

I see them, what are they?

A father, a nun, a small boy with no eyes, and a naked old woman

A wrinkled prostitute calling me over, telling me I'm a sinner

They are all raping me, violating every part of my skinless body

I am dreaming

I know it's real because I can't wake up

and they are watching me

down the wooden hallway to the right, past the doorway

and again down this wooded hallway, to the right, past the steep black doorway and now backwards again, to find the bed, to fall asleep, to wake up, to sooth my bleeding feet, to sit and not be chased

To find the rest of the memory

I am dreaming

I remember it like it was yesterday or a past life memory

I remember it's clarity which makes this place foggy

Which makes these feeling half of what they could be

I am a shell, a sliver of a woman

10% of what could be and so I'm pinching myself and biting my tongue

to wake up into a dream, to feel, to bleed red blood

but I am dreaming

and I can not wake up

Hidden Agenda

For three and a half years my insides dwelled inside themselves

attempting to dig through all the thousand layers

And on the thirty seventh of the thirty cycle

my one inside broke a pinhole through

and led you by a miniscule light into a light filled bedroom

And for a minute my skin turned transparent

and you saw all the fighting turmoil within the grounds

of a land of many tunnels

of blood filled tunnels and breathing heaps

of purple masses

And when you blew into the lips of pink on ivory

the messy turned to water and you scrubbed away the muck

and you saw the cage of twinkles

who had lived in me for four years and who beckoned for your fingers

to unlock and find the key

And so we met inside the blue moonbeam with all the other hidden campaigners

and we were sucked into the holes in the sky

and within them no one saw us

yet we saw eachother fully

each vitamin, each scar, each neon bleeping lie

And our bodies moved together

unison swimmers

naked as newly rained air

And my insides, inside, inside myself exploded

and all the twinkles burst into stars

And we cherished the sight

like a blind man would

till the green mirrored sea swallowed the night

and my twinkles moped their way back to the cage

and sealed over with golden glue

And we flew from our moonbeam and we ballooned down

to our lifeless reality

captured by our landlords, our gold turned brassy, our bones roughened

and our rooves shaggy

back onto our hooks for another hundred years

dancers

there are stars on the floor all you dancers
beware or they'll burn up your feet
they fell from the skies, and the heavens
the glittering gas balls of heat

they've polished the golden glass staircase
they've shone up the pillars as well
and everything's blue as an ocean
but you can see straight into hell

so the ladies are running and yelling
and the man says we cannot go out
the holes in the world are expanding
still the dancers are spinning about

the stars on the floor are all fading
the pillars have melted to lumps
the dancers have burned off their footsies
and now they shall dance upon stumps

there is something below us that's growing
there are fire's in us that burn deep
still the dancers will not lose their music
and the sinner's can not go to sleep

and heaven: she's light as a feather
and hell: he's as heavy as lead
but heaven will float in the distance
while hell will be there in her stead

A sense of finality

I scattered every word onto the floor
and double checked each syllable, sound and letter
I threw away your daylgiht and your nihgttime
and I reassessed your rotten ryhmes and your foolish structures
I sunk into one though, I fell into a blissful dream of reading
One sentence strange and bright and themeless
clearly thoughtless
just a process
you must have
but did you think this one through?
Were these words chosen or did they choose you?
"Sail onward downward swallow"
and did he float or did he sink?

Summer song

Something super happy:) for a change.

Mommy

Mommy doesn't quite pay attention.
She says I'm grown up, a women.
She says I am thrilling, sexual, a breasted dancer.

No mommy. I'm the pale swan,
I'm the silver raindrop, I'm the calmest lake.
But, mommy doesn't quite pay attention.

So, maybe to mommy I'm the metallic taste,
the viscious snake, the reddest lace.
But, mommy doesn't see that the wolves take me.

The wolves drove me to unvieled point.
They made me naughty and ate my body.
Mommy wants to be rid of this heathen sinner, this mucky image.

Well, mommy be rid of me!
Throw me in the well.
But do not let the wolves in for they won't let me drown.

Pay attention mommy!
I'm the golden lock, I'm the ivory tusk, I'm the angels wing.
I am not what mommy thinks.

Elegy for the green from false rings

Oh puddling, squaddling sugar tins

With stars in jars that burn and spin

and canes of sugar, beets and pearl

You’ve gone to limits lost the world

Of days in August, hot and moist

And shining water’s misty voice

You slid the upper, stayed the low

And what’s the silver got to show?

I lost my nails in World War II

Oh stay my fake, I stayed with you

You tricked the smith and stayed for show

Oh tell me darling where’d you go?

All that you taught me

I’m under the tree of the honest and true

I’m put here to learn things of Latin and spin

I’m put here to learn things of reason or sin

You gave me the book of the wise and the new

I’m inside the tree of the wishes and goals

I’ll sit in the shadows of Sickle and Sam

I’ll sew in the cottage, the wife and the lamb

I’ll climb up the ladder, the posts and the poles

I’m tippity top to the branches and high

I’ll learn of the world through searching above

I’ll find all the answers through hatred and love

I’ll jump into blue and float through the sky

The learnt is below me in jumbles of pools

The lessons you taught me are lessons for fools

The sins you swallowed

You lived in the fire, the grass, and the snow

You lived in the cages, the stars and the sea

You lived in the honest, the fake and the pure

You lived in the captive, the spring and the child

You dressed in the dresser the damned naked fish

You swam in the singer, the lines on the page

You pushed till she swung into dosies and jigs

You climbed him to higher, the unfolded leg

You rang to the boss on his sex covered desk

You walked in the line of a swallowing sea

You died for the life, and you died on the cross

Freaks

A spitting, hissing, drooling mess

Locked in a box, a man in a dress

Her hair covered body, her thick coffee fur

She’s caged and she’s looked at, she’s perfect and pure

Two born together born tied at the hip

They’ll both go down if one should slip

But their minds are two separates, their music is grand

One sells the circus please give her a hand

Lionel the lion with 6 inches face

Wears handsome suits, speaking fluent with grace

The man with no arms who played strings for Strauss

Left the orchestra to afford a house

A spitting, hissing, drooling mess

Locked in a box, a man in a dress

Take Me

Take me to your hidden city with the bright blue lights

And the reflections of the purple past and present leaning against the walls

Place me upon the building tops exposed for all the people in the mirrored walls

Make love to me on the top of the top

And on the bottom of the bottom

And make me scream for the entire blue city to hear

Dance me on your dresser

And sing me on your floor

Let the cars drive fast past our little indigo secret

Take me to your hidden city with the bright blue lights

And forbid the sun to shine

Or the world will see blue through the thin curtain

100 years ago

100 years ago we were trees

You an oak, and I a willow

And how we grew together

Entwining our thousand branches

Do you remember my blossoms?

I gave you each one

And you the strong oak

Sheltered me

Do you remember our life together?

Our lives that shook in the storm

But remained rooted in the ground

And even our roots took the time to knit together

Do you remember the rain?

And how it ran across us

And soothed our parched insides

Each ring soaking up glory

Do you remember how I lifted my arms?

How I lifted my arms and covered you

I covered you from the worst of it

And lost a million blooms

Do you remember the lovers?

Who sat under our shade and kissed for us

And how they climbed upon us

and made love within our arms

100 years ago we were trees

You an oak, and I a willow

And how we grew together

Do you remember?