The wick

Shattered on the roof
a candle softens the shards
so it’s possible to place them
into posable figurines

She likes the idea
of molding choas
into a soft ball and
shaping impossibly dense
human bodies

Decides to hurd them
into empty armies
helpless with their heads
so full, she smiles

until the wick times out
and Kaboom!
the world is blown apart
with the dark and her hands
shattered up here
on the roof


Pot Bound

My outgrown tangled roots
are bound for a bigger pot

Tradition states my choice…
and it’s two sizes too small
as they say
so the moment I’d settled
my roots had already grown out
left most untidily tangled

To be frank, I’m tired
after two times too many plantings
my leaves droop as I fight for space
against myself, to be sure

but I’m frighted of a too big pot
one in which I might get lost
what if the edge is far away?
so I can’t find it
to sit decisive-like and say
“I’m clearly too big for this pot
I must make myself smaller”


My heart has a double beat
occasional and reckless
I call her Alice
She’s normal, they say
until she starts to sing

I’m not ready to listen
but she stays with me
until I cough her back to sleep
scared of what she’ll tell me

she’ll say;
what I know of truth isn’t
what i interpret in others isn’t
or what I believe of myself isn’t


Oh Alice

To be Considered

Who will see me when my skin lets go of my bones?
who will see me when my eyes cloud over while my nose continues to grow?

not that girl
who stands guard
in meek resolve uses that
tone of voice
and the illusion of choice she “asks” me if I’d like
milk or water to help me swallow
and when the pill gets stuck above the lump in my throat

I tell her I’m confused and I don’t feel well.
She pats my back and uses that
tone of voice
that sucks my breath
she tells me she’ll tell someone else and to enjoy this beautiful day.

My body hurts
deeply I am so tired
I never considered my life would or could be like this in the end

We have a humaine society for our pets
but we imprisin our mothers and fathers with our love.

The Pit

angeline with fu manchuI’m not the girl
who sways majestically in time
With stage light reflecting 
her careful costumed appearance
a filtered queen of the night
I envy her effort and her awareness
as the lights dim.

For a moment I let my eyes close
carefully as the drums hit me perfectly
deep in the middle of my chest
and I am free
floating on the melodies
ripped from the amps of the bassist
smiling right in front of me
laughter erupts from inside my belly
without my consent this is bliss

For a moment between the pressure
and the pain.

I’m the girl in the pit
drenched in other people’s sweat
pressed against a bolted metal fence
waves of pressure break against my back
while boots attached to bodies sail over me
but I know when to avoid the boot
I can feel it coming as security pushes in
to gleefully rip the roaring kid victorious
from their broken surf.

I don’t see that girl again
but for some reason
she stays with me.

Shower Hazards

When my thoughts
run away from me
laugh, taunt and tease

me as I scramble
out of my inspired
shower to find


in this uninspired room
to record my
obliviously unimportant
poetic musings

as my thoughts skip and
dance with strobe light
blankness and fullness

finally I have a pen and
my thoughts trip
for a second but I catch
a piece as they run away

it’s in a different
direction but I don’t care
because I’m laughing now.