despite the protest
of my conscious
i've decided  to
surrender to temptation
give in
consummate this love affair...

everyone tells me
my lover is 
beautiful, witty, endearing
our chemistry is palpable

it's as if
i acknowledge this
stellar dynamic
there will be no return
to my
carefully orchestrated complacency

a daring step
for a dame like me
to hell with convention
i am surrendering to this
menage a trois 
me, myself, and i


pulsating honey pot

to say that
she 'felt alive again'
would be
an understatement

it's as if
there are arms on
the inside,
reaching heavenward
through her thighs, 
with silent 'hallelujahs'
at their fingertips

beehives in her breasts
buzzing with a nectar
no tongue had ever tasted
in the middle of her forest
birds chirped
in blissful tones....
as if they had just
heard their melodies
for the very first time

it was a modern miracle, 
an unobtainable tale 
for non-believers,
a willing resurrection
there had never been death


flashing lights
through broken blinds
her head 
under old sheets - 
incomprehensible things 
such as
light years, galaxies, dinosaurs
words, desire, and god

she felt like 
a character in an
old bukowski poem

you know the type
- the girl in a cheap hotel 
after days of stale pizza
great sex
leaving a whiskey ring
on the gideon bible
for someone less fortunate
to clean

had taught her
to not be at ease
with this side of herself
his overwrought messages
about her soft undertones
had soiled
a soulful song
with stale seediness


conviction's caress

last night it recurred
the potential of 
this pain passing

you were there
at 3 a.m.
somewhere between my
cognizant cares and dreamy deliriums 
wearing warmly toned
prison orange
with a roughly honed  silence
sitting upon
an old and creaky pedestal

baring a placid peace 
from your private purging

i was far away
with this tattered, 
pale gown -
openly exposing
the messiness of my physical being
the purgatory of placidity

but somehow,
as things always were,
our rough imbalance
soothed me back to sleep -
a prison like cell
that freed
the bedridden parts
of my solidarity


water whispers

after heavy days
revolting sleeps
a wind has 
deliriously blown
my head of ugly hair
those blood filled scrapes
of raw skin
and bewildering thoughts

i know
i will swim again
beneath the blue skies
the distant shore
and the loss
of my life's raft


'let down your glare'

my tale began simply enough
straight pines
margins wide, endless words
pages perfect for
bending, underlining, reexamining 

after a few
careless readers
'tenderness' turned into 'tattered'
the construction of
my tower began

brick by brick
mortared carefully
 apathy, indifference
able to shelter against
the most 
debilitating debonairness
weltering, winsome wiles

when i imagined 
my fairy tale future
was not what 
i had in mind


i decided this morning
to spend a little extra time
and see if they'd come back

we have a temperamental relationship, 
words and i
- it worked

my coffee was "luxuriant",
i'm certain sunrise
left god "breathless"...
the silent recollections
of your caress
caused prolific "cachinnating"

it seems we 
waltzed again
in this field of knowing

if a dab of sandalwood
and hints of turquoise
did this for my linguistics

then darling,
i am sending you


why, eh?

i rode home today
against the wyeth like landscape
and wondered
which i had been
to you
helga or betsy?

i identified with helga. 
her braids
your rash ideals
about watercolor behavior

but, too,
the gristmill resolve
of betsy
realizing that often
silence is the most 
aggressive tone 

tempestuous seizings

they say
i cry in
delirious screams,
crush my tongue 
in repulsive rips

that life,
after these blows
a sordid sea 
of staggering storms

i see that
the enormous moon
rises above
cloud filled skies
the windy water
whispers music
to the skin
of sailing ships

i vow to this sea,
we will travel,
against the turbulence
and arrive
at our destination.


hands are truer than the heart

they can not conceal the certainty,
that is told by a firm grasp
nor disguise their doubts,
baring all with bitten nails

they do not lie 
about their center's warmth,
wiping sweat from anxious palms
or utter words of falsehood 
for what they write, time will withstand

so recognize in cold me
that when i say 'hold my hand',
i mean 'you have my heart'

i will incorporate the fingers of your thoughts
through the parts of me that matter