Posts for June 17, 2019 (page 2)


(unsteady divination)

At present, I can’t decide
which is worse:
to be the Seeress disbelieved,
or to be the Seeress
unsure if she is being deceived.



is it okay to feel resentment like
a caraway seed and crumbled raisin
with all its hard ridges
swallowed down my throat
not so bad as to choke
but bad enough that water’s all i can think about?


To be six years old at the grocery store

You are leaving Wal-Mart with your family
Walking slow, all of you, so slow and yet not slow enough
I am fast but so slow that several of you cut me off
And two of you,  your grandmother and your little brother
I assume –
How the hell would I know –
Are stuck behind me
If I were a lion and you were gazelles it would be over
I think to myself
I am
tired of handling other people’s problems
and ferocious
You look at me right in the eyes
You do not approve of me
Here in the midst of you
Never mind, child,
I tell you silently. 
I am your family now. 
You snarl. 
I wonder who’s the gazelle after all. 



I just stood outside in
the summer heat and
ate raspberries off the
briar until I couldn’t.
Tree frogs hollered in
the steamy air and
a storm brewed in the
distance. I heard the
charged sky rattle
and felt the energy
move across the
valley, the atmosphere
breathing in, about
to explode. I savored
every bite of fresh raw
zest, and the memories
of running out to my
parents’ garden barefoot
to eat every ripe berry
I could find – a
longing for the
tenderness of
childhood lingers
within us all.
A barred owl
called out its chilling
notes from the forest
behind me, interrupting
my nostalgia, and a clap
of thunder shook the earth
and sent me running
inside with my hands
full of berries.


Risky Business

The danger
in allowing
yourself to be
tenderized is 
the possibility
your next stop 
is the grill.



You say you are bored.

My eyes flicker

and I wonder 

is this temporary


your constant state

these days.

I am not bored.

I am





fills my


I am anything but



Poster: Circle Graphic

Which comes first: The witch, or the need to hunt her? Her warlock, even in that title, threatens equally, gives cause for protective, quick destruction. You can help stop them. Must. They might come for you next, may weave you in their lies. I hope you’re joking, foolishly, when you ask which “they” I mean.

Love is dangerous, you know, friendship ever suspect. Truth is Janus-faced, fluid. We’ll need to take that magazine; there are revisions to an article. Is that a book under your pillow? Perhaps you have a lighter. No? Then allow me the deep pleasure, it’s orgasmic grimace hidden behind the Gothic mask of Duty.

The year and place overlap fully, the temperature and globe as well. You are here. Wherever you are is here: Present and Future. Past, unless you believe your memories more than what I tell you is best. One man’s dystopia, another’s heaven made flesh and blood. The labels scrawled in bold blocks on this Venn diagram don’t matter.  

You are here.  


Labor and Waiting

You gave a gift by allowing me

To be present while you labored
A hard day at the office cannot compare
To the work you put in
As contractions make a space for your
Little creation to enter our lives
Face to face
Breath to breath
The waiting place is made for you
Not yet, but soon
Your little one desires a new home
Your family created such a space amongst them
Solely for his heart
The rhythm of your heart melds with his to create a melody resounding in nurse stations
As fluids leak onto bed, onto floor
We wait with you
Your pain mirrored in your man’s face
“Just a little longer. You’re doing great.”
He whispers to you, himself, his son



knitted into night’s 
lust-soaked cloak 
are wisps of Sirens’ 
curls, like fingers 
bidding “come hither” 


On a Summer’s Night

Fires fly in the skies,
Fervent hearts search
For the love of their lives.
For – ever or never,
Passionate lovers:
A life, the price it costs!