The red neon sign beckons its visitors by shouting from the rooftop, "Yes, We're Open!" The sign has a constant buzz, like a bug zapper at a midnight picnic working overtime. The bell on the door handle jingles merrily, proud of its only job and more than happy to do it for anyone who comes in. The moon shyly peeps into the glass window beyond posters and signs, as if to catch a view of the games inside. Its reflected light dodges the streaks of Windex and fingerprints, and illuminates the linoleum floor.
     Twangy county music sweeps from an old jukebox, sings the blues, and calls me home to Alabama. Small talk across the room, low whistles from a TV showing a repeat football game, these are things of which I take notice. The whiz and occasional beeps of the arcade game as it sits lonely in a corner. The smell of leather boots and money fills my senses and leaves me wishing I lived in the Wild West.
     The balls are already racked on the green table, beckoning me to break their perfect form. I hold the pool-cue in my hands; feel its long and slender effectiveness, the stick waits patiently, almost anticipating my moves. I feel of the edge of the table as I lean over like a cat on the prowl. Mathematical equations dance in my head and I intensely calculate the angle for the shot, but know the game for me is only luck. I eye the six pockets; they are poised and ready to capture their latest victim.
     The cue slides to its round adversaries. The balls scream and smear across the silky table. I hear the snap of the white ball off the cue, the smack of balls as they split away from each other, a school of fish retreating from a great white shark. They whack together, entertaining me with their delight, a troop of clowns dancing in the noonday grass.
     The dim lights shadow the tall, frosted root beer mug, its delicious tang slips down my throat to quench my thirst. I set the glass down and return to the table, a battlefield for those who will take the challenge. The eight ball, the Black Knight of them all, stares up at me and laughs as it expertly dodges the pocket. I am the hound, the ball the fox, I chase him through the green thickets until he retreats into his hole. Game over, I have won.
     I balance the cue against the painted wall, and proficiently cracking my knuckles, go to retrieve the balls from their resting place. We eagerly begin another round. Behind me, a man wins fifty dollars and likewise racks another set.

     She walked into the room on the tail of the wind. The saloon music floated through the air, hitting her senses, likewise, the aroma of the stale cheap beer at the counter. The card players smoked their garbled cigars, some old geezer coughed in the corner, and a russet mutt lay beside the only rocking chair in the room.

The piano reminds me of you,
On lonely winter nights,
When the solo plays,
Accompanied by the winds,
Beating on the windowpane.
When the music turns sad,
I remember your last hours,
We sat vigil,
And cried,
And remembered:

Because the music plays in the background
I remember you
Every so often
I hear your words
And see your face
Because the music plays in the foreground
Where you always were
Giving advice
Sharing ideas
Stories of a lifetime
Laughs and Good times
The music is soft
And a harp
Plays in the background
The brass plays a melody that fits your style
Regal and majestic
It’s almost eerie at times, this music
Because it reminds me of you
Three minutes and twenty seconds of you
Like the end of a love scene or a gallant battle
The piano plays your tune
You were always a king to me
Then the music slows
And stops
Until the flutes come in
With the bells
And the harp
But this harp…
It’s always in the background
And you were always in the foreground,
Like the piano.

Cold, square, metal, bright.
Things of which only I remember,
But it comes to me at night.
Pain, relief, pain, relief.
Dreams of torture,
Each time- renewed grief.
Needles, Needles, drills, tricks
That feeling of despair,
When I don't calmly take their pricks.
Hot, cold, cold, cold.
Keep still now, be quiet,
Thats what I've been told.
Silver, black, blue, green.
The setting of my torture scene.
Cut, sew, cut, sew.
Look, stitch,
But let me go.
Fear, fear, cry, cry.
Wake up screaming,
They wonder why.

     Vivian's eyes drooped by the weight of her vodka-induced decision. She lay half-conscious under the blue tattered quilt, breathing shallow, her heavy limbs holding her in place as if there was sand in her veins. A pebble of sweat ran along the hills and curves of her back, leaving a cool path that set chills along her spine. Her thirty-five year old kneecaps ached against the springs of the twenty-five year old mattress. Her brain pounded against her oily hair, and Vivian listened to its rhythm. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. She pressed her fingers against her eyes in order to stem the incoming headache that would nodoubt later leave her wishing she had dranken the whole bottle instead of half, because it would still have been the same effect. Her stomach gurgled as the 80 proof poison spilled into her bowels and severed the particles of her worn liver. The bile rose in her throat and Vivian swallowed against its allure to make her feel an ounce better. The right bicep twitched, remembering the deed it had participated in only minutes before.
      At the moment she had no regrets about the fight she and her lying, cheating husband had had. The metacarpals in her hands still vibrated from the quick explosion of the shotgun.
     Beside the bed lay Earl's lifeless body, the last of his blood draining between the cracks in the hardwood floor, drowning the ant colony that had peacefully lived underneathe.

You're just another memory
Riding through my mind.
Playing like a movie
And I press Rewind.

I see your face in black and white,
How memories do fade.
I lay in bed and sleep all night
But now I am awake.

Please tell me a story,
Make it a good one at that
Come take me away
I want to learn what you're about

Stare into my eyes
I'll record your every move
Sit back in your truck
Lets help our world's unfold.

You're just another memory
Riding through my mind.
Playing like a movie
And I press Rewind.

Rewind to that night
When we accidently brushed hands
Do you recall the memory
Were you just as scared?

So tell me now,
Where do we go
When the lights turn out at night?

Do you believe that accidnets
Can turn out a-ok?
I didnt know I loved you then
But how I know today.

So Rewind that tape
take a good look
and tell me what you think

And if you want,
Sure we can talk
And late at night
Take that long walk.

I must write you a song,
Because I think and I know that I should.
So I sat down today,
Sending my thoughts your way.

I smeared my nail polish
While I was writing you this song,
But I was inspired,
Though that hasn’t lasted long..

Writers block came as I sat under the light.
Wishin’ you were here-
Cause this could take all night.

You’re not happy where you are
So you should come home.
And when you do, I’ll stop writin’
Cause I know you won’t be alone.

This writers block sucks,
Don’t know what to say.
Drawin’ scribbles on my paper.
I miss you and hey hey heyyy—

Why am I rhyming?
I’ve no clue.
But all this is timing.
Oh, how I miss you.

But it’s eight o’clock,
And the lottery’s on.
Too bad I didn’t win.
Anyway- more of your song---

I must write you a song,
I wonder how you are?
It won’t be long now,
And you’ll be back in town.

I fixed my nail polish
While writin’ this line.
I’m writing you now,
And hoping you’re fine.

How do I end
Such a great song?
By telling you to hang in there,
Because there are people back home who care.

If I could have just done it over
I wouldn’t have let you walk out of my life
Yeah, you would be sitting here right now
Instead of off at war and joinin the fight.

          Let me do it over,
          Let me take back that goodbye
          Let me tell you how I really felt
          Let me do this little thing over.

Oh, and when that sun sets down in Saigon,
Do you listen closely when they play our song?
And when you’re layin’ down in your bed,
Do you repeat that melody in your head?

(Chorus)

Oh, I wrote you a letter the other day
And I wrote and I said I wanted you here.
And if I could have just done it over,
I would be your woman and you be my man.

(Chorus)

But your reply, it never came,
Though I knew you had felt the same.
I went to your funeral, you were 23,
The beginning and the end of you and me.

(Chorus)

Please let me do this over,
Lord, and I would do it right.
I’d wear your ring, do anything.
Instead of you joinin’ the war and
Headin’ off to fight.

(Chorus)

I wanted to be Blind,
I didnt want to see what I already knew.
That you favor the masses,
And the Individual might as well not exist.
It saddens me to know its true,
And yet it does not suprise me.
You earn what you get,
Unless of course you are a favorite
Then everyone else might as well not exist.
It's dictated by a few, The not-so-bright,
But still more promising,
Because they exhibit themselves in a social situation.
As long as they talk, they succeed.
And no one else's opinion exists.
I emoted in a dark world,
Where intellect was looked over and positive feedback
came from the clothes you wore and the friends you held.
I remained silent not because I was shy or afraid,
But because I hesitated to lower my IQ if I stooped to your level.
But recently a light turned on in my world. A light I was dredding.
Apparently we can get by in life by taking no initiative.
Working your tail off gets you nowhere.
Just a heart-attack in your mid-forties.

     Dear God, Are you up there? Of course you're up there. They always say you're up there. Do you get bored up there? Of course you don't; you're too busy screwing up peoples lives. Yes, you know what I'm talking about. That thing that I prayed to you about for so long? Do you even remember that? Of course you remember that. You remember everything. I can't say I believe in you very much today, or yesterday, for that matter. I used to believe in you, I used to pray every night. But I grew up - and after all the let-downs I decided that I wanted proof from you. Like sending your son wasn't proof enough, right? Ya know, I'm willing to believe again, if only you'd do this one thing for me. (And maybe a few others?) But if you just give me a sign. Society isn't the same as it was back then, you can't just etch some writing in a stone and expect people to follow you. And we really need your help as of late. Take your precious Promised Land. Sure, its promised. Promised to be a parking lot by 2004. Look, all I'm saying is that we don't believe simply because there's not much worth believing in. God! Are you listening to me? Or did you just save the game and walk away from your Sim City?

      We are guarded by a force of dogs and tidy, clean-cut soldiers. Classified. You're on a need to know basis. Inside, a Board of Directors, the Adivsory Committee, the system if checks and balances. The cyber-sealed metallic chamber, strategically placed at a permanent 76 degrees- no windows, but radar to the outside world. We keep the Dept. of defense on payroll. Of course I am supreme decision maker, --well-- informed decision maker, nothing can be too hasty. Theres a glass column holding up the middle of the room. Tropical lovelies to keep variety. Every feeling, every event must go through processing before it can be admitted into storage, or if by chance, a hearing before the board. There's a cafeteria in the back. Where the only thing served on Friday's is orange Tic-Tacs. The records are closed Mondays thru Fridays and on holidays. Please wear your identification badges.

     The sun began to set as the ocean foam crept in from the outstretched arms of the sea. Orange beams and pink hues floated towards me as I stood upon the broken pebbles of sand. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the waves, their relaxing rumble, comforting among the mist. I looked towards my castle, and briskly saw it blowing into the wind. Blonde strands blew into my vision, and I pushed them away, focusing on the distant ships parked on the horizon. I was at peace without even knowing it. Seeing the baby sandpiper pop out of the reeds confirmed my relief. The reeds fell over and the wind picked up around me. I sat down in the stinging sand, next to the windswept reed. The sun had fully set.
      “Reality check, G.I.” I sighed back into reality.

I look around at the cold, harsh city
And remember now how they all had ripped me.
And how my passion in life made me feel
And to this talent I will always kneel.
I shaped the world with my sweat and blood.
Or throw it all away for a secret love.
I scan the town and see my style.
But to you only a heap or pile.
I do it my way or hit the road.
But still money in my hand,
And a contract sold.
And so the metal builds to the sky.
And my philosophy in life:
Build or die.

Little Techies
In the Booth
Wearing Black.

        Lonely TV
        In the Corner.
        We Should Watch it.

                     Little actors
                     Missed their ques.
                     Techs need oxygen.

Round Clock
On the Wall.
Tick, Tock.

I. Shapes, Figures.
Nothing, Darkness. Thoughts that I am in a glass jar,
and no air comes in or goes out.
Water droplets form on the side.
A life in the balance.
A shut window, with no escape.
Woven thoughts in a web of hell.
Blood and gravy are spilled on the kitchen floor.
No cry for help is heard as she slips out of consciousness.
Another life in the cosmic surrender.
Bruises heal,
But hearts are broken.
A pen with ink cannot describe her feelings now.
Stand by her side.
Don't let the dove go.

II. A total anarchy of fate.
No one believes.
No one cares.
Listen to the thoughts of your neighbor.
Listen to your heart.

III. At the end of the journey is a cliff.
Climb to your level.
Jump through hatred.
Walk through the door of happiness.

IV. Shoot to kill.
Kill to survive.
Protect your own heart from evil,
Raise your defenses.

V. Decipher a hot skillet
From a golden plate.

VI. A mass of open windows
Is standing for your choices.
Pick the fate which shows worthy.

VII. A girl cries out in anger.
No one ever listens.
A heart is torn to pieces.

Sitting here in this field of flowers.
I wonder why I am here.
Still sitting here,
Waiting here,
Watching here.
I wonder if he's coming?
Why still here?
I'm leaving.

Rich in love,
Flying through the night.
A star to keep all safe.

The dew upon the grass,
The moon in the sky,
A magical fairy passes by.

Her wings a shimmering blue,
Just like the drying dew.
Another night goes fluttering away.

In time, yes,
I will learn to fly.
My wings will be spread,
My heart no longer dead.
I will soar away,
Into the upcoming morn.

Gone forever,
My love for you.
It does the earth justice,

For me to leave,
I am pulling away,
Flushed ino the sea,

where Mermaids keep me warm,
And dolphins calmly swim.
A sudden silence will envelope the sun-burnt land.

To know that I loved you,
To push me away,
To float happily along an empty river.

I will be gone.
My love for you,
Gone.

A pale breeze floats in,
At the end of the road is a jagged cliff.
This is where I jump off.

Know the justice of one's demise.
In a corner, a lonely one cries.
Heartfelt tears drench a river of sorrow.
Scarlet blood flows,
Where no mortal man goes.
A fallen tombstone.
A fallen angel.
A flower on the grave.
The sweet essence of love,
Flew away with the dove.
So stay...so stay...

      Legend has it that the old Voodoo Priestess lived in a straw cottage by the edge of the Mississippi River. Some say she is a runaway slave; others say she tricked her master into setting her free by capturing his daughter’s soul.
      Her name was Acoosta. She was from Jamaica, and had a petit frame and a sunken face. Her hands were like black sticks, grouped together with wire, and one icy touch would kill a man. Her stare was just as potent, like a venomous snake, her eyes would poison a man’s soul.
      The birth of a stillborn baby was blamed on Acoosta, likewise the illness of a child, or the infidelity of a spouse. She would mix potions to destroy lives, and take sacrifices for her brews.
      Fifteen years into her seclusion and she was brought to trial against the local town, accused of killing seven children in a month. Appalled at her behavior, they wanted her to hang. Acoosta denied the charges.
      John Simons knew differently. His son had been the third to dif of a horrible rendition of the flu. “You killed my son!” he would shout. “You stole his soul, you witch!”
      John Simons –was no fool. He had the damning evidence of Acoosta. “It’s her necklace,” he argued to the court, slamming the artifact on the jury’s box railing. The wooden children figurines were set between bamboo beads dangling from a hemp string, each accurately portraying the seven children that were killed.
      “Is this true?” asked the judge,, glaring at Acoosta over his spectacles.
      The Voodoo woman turned her nose upward at the court and sneered at their talk.
      “Tell us, woman. Or you will hang!”
      Acoosta turned her head at John Simons, studied the anger in his eyes, and secretly prayed to her gods that he would fall over dead.
      The crowd began an uproar. Kill her. Burn her. She killed my child. Evil. Devil. Witch.
      “It’s true,” she kissed at them, and reached into the pocket of her tattered apron. She pulled out seven acorns and set them in a row. “The souls of your children,” she screeched, “Are in these nut shells.” She gathered them in her hand. “They will never be set free!” Acoosta threw the acorns at the fireplace. Cries and gasps filled the room. She had stolen the souls of the children, , now she had sent them to the Devil.
      Acoosta was seized by an angry mob and hung in the town square. She was never sorry for her crimes.
      Well, the story goes, that one acorn missed being thrown into the fireplace. It rolled under a floorboard.
      Some say the soul of John Simon’s son was trapped there, in that acorn, under the floorboard.
      Late at night some can still hear that cries of the boy, and the laughs of the hanging witch.
      So the legend goes…

     She stared at his picture. It sat in the silver frame, a 2-D reminder of his blue eyes and brown hair. His pale cheeks blushed with a smile. His legs crossed at the ankles, extended from the park bench. His arm was draped over the back. Carefree. That was how she described the picture.
      The TV whirred in the corner, breaking her attention from a lovely memory. “The war still rages on tonight, despite anti-war protests…”
     Soldier. That was how she described her picture of him now.
     Maggie sighed and slid under the comforter of the bed. The sheets were cold, and completely drained her remaining energy. She clutched his picture, the frozen silver edging sliding into her skin. The wind blew against the window, almost drowning out CNN. Almost. “Ten more soldiers were taken hostage today…”
     She tried to push out the images of him fighting in a distant land. Never once had he been cruel to her, never once had he made her cry. Well, maybe once, she thought, looking at the diamond on her finger, its dull glitter a beacon in the night. She remembered the day in the park when he had proposed. She remembered how he said he would never leave. He had put his arms around her and kissed her in front of the competing sunset.
     “The president urges the nation to be vigilant this evening…”
     Maggie tuned out the news in her head, and focused on his picture.
     “Maggie, will you spend the rest of your life with an unworthy chap like me?” That’s what he had said as he knelt on one knee. “Will you be my bride, and grow old with me?”
     Of course she had said yes. She had practiced many times in the mirror. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” But practicing her answer meant nothing; she still had burst into tears when he pulled out the ring.
     He had kissed away those tears. He had kissed her and he had said, “I’ll never leave you, Mag.”
     “But you did leave me,” she whispered into the night. She flipped off the TV and sat under the dim lamplight. Across from her stood the dresser, cherry oak and golden knobs. It looked solemn the way it was, holding the folded American Flag. The soldiers had been so precise in folding it at his funeral. They had saluted the coffin and handed Maggie the flag.
     After the funeral, Mag took a rose from his grave, and carried it home with her.
     Now, sitting in her lonely room, Maggie wondered what would become of her love for a lost soldier.
     The rose emitted a faint scent and brought her back to a memory made at the park one summers’ day.
     She flicked off the light, laid her head on the soft pillow, and imagined him with his arms around her.

Did you hear?
It’s on the TV.
Thousands are dead,
Still more are missing.
Fire-
From a plane.
Innocent lives slain.
Cry-
With your neighbor,
While heroes labor.
Wreckage of hopes,
Wreckage of steel.
Damnit, Osama
What’s the deal?
Terror alert,
Vigilance high.
Pick on us,
Wave your caves goodbye.
Yes, we were sad,
But we’re over it now.
You and your buddies,
We’ll run out of town.

Red is the blood that you spilled.
White is the good fight.
Blue is the color you will be
When our mafia catches you, cements
Your feet, and throws you into the
New York Harbor. Fuck You.

Clear atmospheres of breathable air,
Cool rushing water,
Green plants warmed by the sun.
High mountain tops that reach the sky.
Peaceful valleys beneath rolling hills.
Sandy beaches washed over by waves.
Soaring eagles above solemn pines.
The peaceful endurance of nature.
               Tornados, Earthquakes,
               Hurricanes, Hail Storms,
               Tidal waves, War.
                         Should take a few
                         Days to wipe out the
                         Human race.
               Greed, Politics, Hate,
               Fear, Bombs, Religion,
               Imperialism, Money
Air, Water
Plants, Sky
Valleys, Beaches
Eagles, Nature.
               Tell the crew
               We’ll dock here.
               Take heed of humans.

Walk all over me,
I am but the grass under your feet.
Disregard me,
As you bend me out of shape.
Tear me up,
For I am but a clump
Stuck in the soul of your shoe.
Crease me, Burn me,
Stomp me to the ground.
I but stain your heels
As you slide above me.
I shrink beneath your height,
And wither under your scrutiny.
I become pale
When you take away my sunlight.
I decompose
When you neglect.
If love makes all things grow,
Then I will die in this field
Of broken promises and sorrow.

     The cliff looked over a valley of watery graves. The shallow water pounded the rocks with sincere aggression, gray droplets hitting the stones and receding again into the dark abyss that we call ‘ocean.’ The clouds molded above the horizon, and brought a storm of wind and fury. Blues and blacks meshed the two scenes together, creating a painting, priceless yet free, wild yet calming.
      Nani’s hair clung to her face, her brown tresses matted from the carrying mist. She desperately pushed them back and held them in place with her trembling hand. The scalding wind chapped her cheeks, but Nani ignored that. She strained her eyes past the incoming raindrops. She yearned to see that which had been missing from her life. That long had she been alone and wanting; and searching.
      The long grasses slapped against her ankles, staining her delicate skin with welts. Nani looked down to her possible future. The waves greeted her with proud arms. The rain melted the cliff, and Nani sank into a mixture of silt and mud.
      Slapping now against her skin, the rain reminded Nani of passed hoped and fears; everything achieved and everything lost. The clothing on her back stuck to her, as almost a second layer of skin.
      A dead tree stump to her right sank from the cliff and shifted into the water. Nani fell to her knees and raised her eyes towards God. Both tears and rain stung her pupils but she blinked away their drowning influence.
      She angrily shook her fists in the air and shouted at the Heavens.

      Nani had already decided not to jump. “Damn you, God! What happens now?”
      Behind her an angel rose high into the sky. It watched Nani with detached interest, but still more compassion then any mortal could ever muster. It soared upwards; satisfied that in a few years Nani’s life would have sufficient direction and great promise.

The door was left unlocked,
Came the police report that night.
Old boyfriend came in,
Looking for a fight.
Didn’t know what to do so
She dialed 9-1-1.
Ran upstairs,
Oh, she was scared,
Grabbed her Daddy’s gun.
He was drunk,
She knew that when,
He slurred his speech
With a sloppy grin.
Get back, she said,
And he stepped her way.
Get back, she said,
And she –blew him away.
Don’t cry little girl,
It’ll be okay.
Don’t cry little girl,
It’ll all go away.
And the sirens pulled up,
But they were all too late.
Drunk Johnny was dead,
But she was okay.
The door was left unlocked,
That’s how he got in.
Little girl will never
Do that again.

               I feel like the wind could push me over
               And the sun could melt me way down low
               And where I settle in creek or crack
               I lay forever, you will not come back
                    Breeze brings chills on my sun-ripened skin
                    As I slouch in my chair and think of you again
               Shadows appear from lighted beams
               In meadows I tear, I am the rain.
Without you I am not strong
               Let the wind push me over
                    Push me way down low
               Let the wind carry me across
                    To unleveled ground
Let the sky darken now, as is its way
Could’ve been different, if I’d of said stay
               Stay - like the hard harsh wind
                    Stay- lift all my shadows
                         Stay with me this tired night
                              Stay with me until the light
     I feel like the wind could push me over
                         Let it happen
                         Oh, I will not stay
                         Let it happen
                         I will melt away

The boat
Wooden carcass of a ship
Treaded water
Across stormy seas
It was scared
Yes
The boat was scared
Afraid to float
Hesitated to stay
But it sank
To bottom ground
A new home for fish
Greedy fish
A sailor’s grave
An hour later
The sunny surf sighed
If it only
Didn’t have road rage
The broken down boat
Wouldn’t have died
No time now
For false apologies
The storm
Brewed again
Looked for another victim
A boat
Treaded water
A helpless child
Is about to have
A very bad day

Funny

How they looked at you and followed your path but took the fork in the road and went the other way.

Funny

How I met you on that trail and walked with you to keep you company.

Funny

How when it rained you shielded me under your favorite tree.

Funny

How you called my name when you pulled away from me.

Funny

How the path got muddy today.

Makes sense though,

That I went my separate way.

Memories not yet faded by the sun
          Hands gently brush a picture
          And paint a mood
          And detail a long passed summer
Tall oak trees and ice cream cones
Captured in a frame of velvet backing and silver bells
Once were children of innocent smiles
Now are children of endless miles
The smell of film
          Blended with
Sweet lurings of lemonade and sticky fingers
Grown up too fast
If only they had learned to take is slow
If only the picture
          Of happy games and playground fights
Could turn back time
          …Could turn back time

The moonlight has not been seen in a while
The rain has washed it away
I closed my eyes for comfort of you
You caressed my pain and took it away
You absorbed my soul and captured my heart
You took hold of my hand and made me feel the pulse that was in your chest
Beat with a rhythm I swore not to forget
Hair in your face, you pushed it away and kissed me again
To be so close with a definite glow
To place love on your skin and never let go
You take away time and bring eternity
And enter my dreams and keep me company on long nights
But in my head only, because you are so far
I wish every minute to bring you back once more
I wish I could touch what I so long for
Drag your finger softly down my cheek
I’ll hold you until I depart this life

I fell in love

All at once I ran out of
things to write about

He was/is perfect and I
Was/am treated like a queen

But still the words would not come

I sat for days with my blank paper

The ink may as well have been
invisible and I was ashamed to
bear my soul because I knew the
words were all wrong for my emotion

So I waited for them to make an appearance

When they did not come I tried to
force them out, like a square
peg into a round hole

Anything for inspiration
I went outside and focused
on nature, listened to music,
even imagined myself
laying in his arms

His touch was/is perfect,
(if you only knew)

As much as I wanted to write
my ever-evolving experiences,
six words only came to my mind: You are not a good writer.

Somehow I thought that was
false, I had pushed them out
so many times before, and
they seemed to turn out okay

If only I could get those words back

If only I wasn’t sitting in such
a rut, then maybe I could tell you everything that was on my mind

Until then I assume I will sit
here just drinking my coffee
and waiting until the time is right

And I can write again.

Detached,

That is how my writing must be.

Detached,

A cactus lives detached.

It stands alone and sucks the flavor dry from the sands around it.
It is self-supporting and proud to be detached.
Yet it is humble
And observant.
The cactus observes the sun and sands, while offering refuge to wayward traveling birds.
It is tall and all-knowing, its arms reach out for everyone, it seems to draw all in.
Yet it does not boast.
It is healthy and green, and did not color itself with unneeded emotion.
It is detached.

My writing is another part of the desert.
It is the coyote that hungers for a reader, but instead scares him away.

Isn’t it starting to rain on my parade?
Good feelings and party when
Jose and Adams stood up
To the microphone and sang
High-pitched karaoke?

Didn’t someone instinctly
Turn out the lights
And made a last call to
The ruffians to finish their
Game of drunken darts
While silently stacking
The bar stools?

The sign was flipped over in
The window and the
Hired help went home
For the evening.

He only sticks with the one
Called girlfriend because she gave
Him a key and he needs
A warm place to go at night.

Didn’t it rain on my parade
Last Friday night, too?

Didn’t I tell you not to
Call here again?
Your stubborn sales technique
Is not what I would call
Comfort.
555
You may be a lovely person
Trying to make an earnest living
But I am your nemesis
Who leaves the phone off
The hook for your next
Vain assail.
275
Ironic how you were
A phone company rep trying
To save me money on long
Distance calls when you
Called from 1000 miles away
8946

Aye, a soldier from the sea
Came in and left his boots by my door
He crossed my straw mat
Lay down his green hat
And shut the gap that let in the cold

Hey solider from the sea, when are you
Coming home? It’s so lonely while you’re away
And my heart aches for a soldier from the sea

Aye, soldier wrapped his jacketed arms around me
He promised to let down his guard and forget the enemy.
Oh, soldier from the sea, his vision was still cloudy.

Hey solider from the sea, when are you
Coming home? It’s so lonely while you’re away
And my heart aches for a soldier from the sea

Aye sailing warrior how I wish you’d forget
Your troubles while you’re in my hold
After nights of love and knowing he was safe,
He no longer had dreams of being a soldier from the sea

Hey solider from the sea, when are you
Coming home? It’s so lonely while you’re away
And my heart aches for a soldier from the sea

But he never forgets his traveling days
And what the warrior in him saw
He wipes a tear from cheek to ear
And silently stares into the fog.

So you thought I wouldn’t know
Well I didn’t think you’d go that low
What about the roses you gave me last week
Were you screwing her then too?
Babe I can play this game of yours
So you thought I wasn’t home
When my car wasn’t in the lot?
What makes you think you can lay
Her in our bed
Yeah- and give ‘er all you’ve got
And it wasn’t a business trip
You took to the city
Oh, you went skiing and you were sinning
So you thought I wouldn’t know
That you were kissing you little cupcake over there
Well I’m sorry I crashed your new corvette into your dining room
Yeah, my foot slipped
I was lost in thought
About those roses you gave me
Hoping you wouldn’t get caught

He stuck his foot in the door,
Pushed it open with his boot.
Juggled two bags of groceries,
Chockig on a dozen roses
Like a dog fetching a newspaper
Ignored the developing itch
Beneathe his wool scarf
Slammed the door behind him.
Honey, I'm home, he mumbled
Through rose stems in plastic.
The right bag slipped and
Ripped-
Sent an apple rolling across
Wooden planks.
Down the hall.
Honey, I'm home.
And I brought
Applesauce.

They said he had a good sense of humor.
So when he spilt red punch
All over his new white shirt,
He just laughed it off,
And said, Serves me right for
Wearing white after Labor Day.
They said he was lucky.
So when his house burnt down
On Mason Street
He merely said, Thank God I
Didn't die.
They said he was good natured.
So when he was arrested for
Killing a co-worker, They were
Puzzled to hell.
He just laughed and said, Too
Bad I only got one of you...

They ring in the new year
With some- forgettable party favors
And a- glass of champagne.
They cling to each other
As they- shout Auld Lang Syne.
Then he- gives her the old line-
Hey baby why don't you come home with me,
I'll show you a- good time.
Let's ring in the new year with more
Than some- fine wine.
Then he looked her up and down
And he- pulled her close and winked his eye.
So kitten what do you say,
Lay with me until break of day?
She coyly smiled and held up her hand.
I go home with this guy, she said,
Wiggling her ring finger.
This guy? he repeated and held up
His same hand and band.
This guy, she said, and
Kissed him for no reason.
Happy New Years, guy.

The temptation was too strong
He ran his fingers through her hair
The silky strands leading to her
Perfect cheekbone, her set chin
The love in her eyes
Softened her features
To that of an angels'
As she felt his fingertips drag
Down her neck
She knew it was real

He let his hand fall to his lap

They stared into each others eyes

She shyly broke contact and looked away

Slowly
He tilted her chin up
Brushed his fingertips over her lips

Saxaphone
Why are you so sad?
Don't you know any other tune?
The club has much to talk about tonight,
Other than that lonely sole in the corner booth,
That you choose to endlessly pick on.
He's picked up on it, too-
And ordered himself yet another round,
Hoping to drown away whatever it is
That keeps him coming here.

The skylift
Runs parallel
To the Californian shore
Takes passengers
On a long ride to
The other side
He fears heights
But goes on
Just to
Satisfy her
She fears
The fall from
The dangling chair
But keeps her fears
To herself
She wants just to
Be alone with him
Where no one can
Interfere
Just him and her
And the fall of five
Hundred feet
Gives them an excuse
To hold on to
Each other

[She] Closes her eyes
Imagines
[Him] Beside her
[His] hand on [her] heart
Felt the [beat] beat pulse
Fingertips touch her cheek
[Secretly] Knows he's never felt
Anything so soft

Half finished painting
Sitting in a corner
Like half a sigh
Caught up by a lover’s kiss
Gentle hand frames her face
Like an easel supports the canvas
Flowing paint from nimble brush
Agile hands unbutton a blouse of flowing silk
Pointed detail of woman’s face
Cluttered floor of delicate lace.

A years worth of dust
Collected on the ink well
Of the poet.
Concerned naught with his words but
With his heart.
When he finally sat
Returned to his quill
The feather trembling
Over yellowed parchment
He wrote:
Now nothing else
Rules my mind
But curved letters
And leather bind.

It was the night.
The moon can be
Beautiful.
But it brings with it
Memories.
It hurts to be alone
When I know what
Visions I shall see.
When I know my
Dreams will only be
Of you in my arms.
Dreams that I love.
Yet hate.
Incurable sadness it seems.
Knowing your love
Yet you being so far away.
Its their duty for memories
To jab at the heart.
Childish.
For closing my eyes again
And pretending you’re here
Though you’re not.
And the tears
Stream down my face like
They would never stop.

Hello
Remember me?
I was the one who
Whimpered when you went by
Seeya later, Goodbye
I know every line of your back by now
The way the shirt clings to
Your shoulders
And falls down your spine.

Barren flatland of TV set
Sporting fishbowl with
Watery pet
Nightly shows and
Daytime slots
Fish does nothing
But sit and watch

Unexpectedly-
He held her hand
As they strolled
Down the street
The passers by merely
Viewed them as a
Double link
Which they could
Not break but
Rather-
Maneuver around.

I have to admit
I was mad at you
I didn’t want you to come here and
Bother us, we were peacefully sleeping.
I regretted your coming, your legit
Rise to power. How could you? And
Yet its your born right.
Not in my opinion.
I didn’t want you and you shouldn’t
Have come.
We were alone but now you’ve come,
And you’ve brought the day,
And with it people and rush
And noise.
But we were sleeping.
And you, the sun, have risen.

I find it mandatory
To wear your dog tags
When you’re out of town
It makes me feel closer to you
They at least have better company
That I do, you said,
Plucking at the aluminum
On my breast
You seemed astounded that
I wear them constantly, some
Chunk of flat metal
That you are made to wear
Everyday, but they don’t
Nearly have the same effect
On you as they do on me.
It’s a part of you that I keep
With me.

You like it when I
Leave you little things
Trinkets
That I love
And give to you
For you to find
When I am away
In your glove box
A love letter
How long did it take you to find it?
On the seat of your car
A beanie baby
With my picture
Tied to it
In the mail
A magazine
With sticky notes of
My comments on
Every page
On your car mirror
My favorite ring
Dangling
With your graduation tassel
Size six? You once
Said. Good to keep
In mind.
You like it when I leave you
Little things
Trinkets
That I love
That you love
What are you going to
Leave me this time?
You ask me
Looking me in the eyes
Holding me in your arms
I never knew you liked
Those things
Those little things
Trinkets

Jackson Q Something
That’s his name
This oversized bear
That you bought me
When I pulled him
Off the shelf
And hugged him close
And smiled over his furry ears
At you
My giggle said, can I have him
Please, baby, please?
Later that night
When I was holding you
And forgot about the bear
You asked,
What did you name it?
I hadn’t decided
Later on I thought
Jackson Q.
But he doesn’t have a
Last name yet.

Its okay.
Put on your mean face.
All you have to do
Is walk through a building.
We’ve done this before,
Walking.
Mean face,
We’re not going to cry
Mean face.
Walk.
Concentrate.
Not going to cry.
Don’t forget to breathe.
Breathe and walk.
Breathe and walk.
Mean face.
Breathe and walk.
Don’t cry.
Breathe and walk.

Blue jeans
Dirty but well fit
Cling to his small frame
As he stands
In the middle of the room
With his arms folded.
Staring at his girlfriend
Who doesn’t eat rice.
He loves her though
And one day
They’ll elope.

Shy girl
Long hair
Doesn’t know why she follows him.
Something about the way he
Worships her, probably
Says he loves her
She’s too insecure
Not to believe him.
Maybe one day
They’ll elope.

Purify me
My soul yearns
For an angel
Like you to break this spell
Of cloudy hearts and restrained visions
Lift me up
I want to swim
In that non-gravity feeling
I get when your lips
Gently collide with mine
Scaled
A trail is left
As you glide your fingers
Down my skin
And make your home on my throat
Setting separate arsons
In a fault line that
Streams to my breast.
The fireworks, the stars
That ignite my skin
You
Run through my veins
And make me feel
So alive.

Through my eyes I saw what I always see
A perfect angel staring back at me

Through my eyes I looked into your soul
Saw our worlds spin out of control

Into the mist of baby blue spheres
With my eyes, into yours I peered

Burning a hole from your heart to mine
Crocheting a pattern to stand through all time

Tenderly grip my neck and pull me down
Nose touching nose and breathing without a sound

Hip to hip and breast to breast
You are my hero, I wouldn't take less

On those cold nights you take it away
And hold me close until break of day

..to be continued

She’s sleeping.
As he opens the door
He see’s her,
The moonlight filling curves of her body.
Perfect hills and valleys
Half covered by silken sheets.
He body conforms to her stretch,
Deep breath, and shift,
As if she slightly stirs,
Knowing man’s eyes are upon her skin.
Golden hair displayed over a pillow
Of feathers, cups her face in comfort.
Silently beckons the man to shed his longing
And come to the promised land.

She goes to him
When the moon is high
And hidden by clouds.
Takes quiet steps
Doesn’t make a sound
Retires to a spot
So warm and secure
She knows what she knows
As she shuts the door.

The drain
Doesn’t go down as fast as it used to
I stand
In ankle deep water and
Let the stream flow over
My body
As if I was mesmerized
By the massage
By the trickling sound
By the thought of you
In there with me
I concentrate
On the droplets that hammer
My skin
And the memories of you
That assault my mind
I’ve an inkling to cry
But the water does it for me

Silvia

She shot ‘im
In cold blood she
Looked down the barrel
Vital signs out of wack
Innocence- that is- of
A new gun


Emily

Enraged by society
Merely a player
In today’s world
Last in every line
Yearning for something


Maggie

Mercy,
Angels!
Get me out of here!
Grace,
I pray to thee
Even as I sink below the water


Sarah

She
Always
Ran
Away from
His fists


Lara

Leaves her home
Away from here
Road trips today
Are too overrated


Evelyn

Evelyn never
Varies in
Extracurricular activities
Least of all
Yours truly,
Nathan smith


Kelly

Khaki, normal, and
Especially indifferent
Lost in a world of
Level minded shmoes
Yesterday’s front page


Bonnie

Best actress
On Broadway
Not really-
Never really is-
Indecent and
Extravagant.

The bridge
Stands alone
Connecting two shores
Over water that doesn’t care
Who jumps
Its not the waters job to care
Its not the bridges job to
Offer easy words of advice
To those who decide to
End it all
All the bridge says is,
“Caution, wind warning,
Crosswinds may exist.”

When endangered by her
Tryst
Of self fulfillment
She struck out
Screamed at inner self
Fought demons of right now
Cried wolf thrice and
Denied them acquiescence
Of power, source, and
Maneuverability
Because time did not permit

My love for you
Is diurnal
Flowing in at first
With wind and whispers
And lust on the tail
Of a cloud
With passion
As big as the moon
And in one swift motion
You gave me all the stars
But the sun rose on the
Changing currents
Times change my
Star-snatching friend
And the tides recede
Who do not return
Leaving nothing but a rouge
High and dry
Where he belongs
Sun-bathing with his new fat
Sea-lion-honey

I lay my head
On lonely cotton pillows
Wrap myself
In dormant woven threads
Relax my mood
Stretch out my thoughts
Close my eyes Fall
And hope that I’m caught
I am
In silken sticky nets
Above endless pits of dreams
Limbo in a wish of perfect purity
Loyal like a pearl to its shell
Before its final treat
Endless like a song
On siren’s beauty beat

It doesn’t know where to fall
The snow comes down
In windy gusts
Like disheveled hair
Over a lovers shoulders
Across curves
Hills and valleys
The snow blankets-
A comforting beauty
To the land
Touches the trees with silk
And relaxes the stream
To a mere whisper

Would rather be scrambled
In a jar or marbles or buttons
Than think clearly of now.
Every fastener, every round glass ball,
A memory- a thought of you.
Shaken.
To mix up future,
Present, past.
Picking one out at random:
A long kiss goodnight.

Retire me
To hills and valleys
Of greens and golds.
Blue for sky,
White for light.
Be with me
As the sun sets on
This plane of existence.

Fly.
Clouds like fog
Vision of white
Droplets of water
Cling
To my arms
A dream
The most peaceful dream
Of falling, yet floating
Seeing for miles,
Is it the distance or my future?
What’s a metaphor for skydiving?

Recall
The conversation
Exposed, unreserved
Misty, real, masterful
Exclusive, seducing,
Had me at Hello.

The seas rise with the winds
The tide unearths its monster-
Boats sit on bottom
Aground in a new desert wasteland
The moon pulls the oceans
Sends your ship to safe harbor
Moored in port
Sailors avenging their
Restless souls

Blank walls
Where pictures hang in the future
Smiles are gone
Waiting for hope
The clock on the wall is broken

Time
Doesn’t knock at my door
With opportunity
Nothing
Knocks at my door
I wait
For you
In time,
One day far away
You’ll come home
And time
Will be on our side

I want to sob-
Looking at your picture now
Only makes me mourn
What has been physically put on a shelf
But still
you give me words
Yet
Without tone and pitch
All I have is speculation
Of true feelings
Oh, I know
You love me
But the ocean between us
Doesn’t care

Butterflies
Circle in the breeze
Soaring like an eagle
Colorful as a coral reef
Under the far away sea
Exotic breath of air
Flushed against my face
From the rapid pulse of
Wings creating wind
Butterflies
Calming, yet a jittery faerie
Delight
Dancing on flowers of
Honey and nectar
Exquisite, encouraging,
Free

Hold me
As a feather holds the air.
I am complete,
Folded in your wings.
Caress me
With the secret touch
Only lovers know.
Breath of a kiss
On my skin.

Distance causes dreams.
Laying in one haze,
Channeling you from another
To meet
Halfway
In dreams.
Fog and cloud,
Mist and shade,
Close your eyes, call my name.
Silent touch, silken caress.
Love is dependable,
All is timeless.

The sea
Rests itself
on me.
Brings me down
to water bed
Lazy currents run
through my head.
I resist to float
Don't care to swim.
It takes me far
From life and limb.
I study fish,
Watch their motion
My soul is given
To endless ocean.
Filling my ears,
Water's sound,
As I sink
To seaward ground.