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The Year (aka Rubber-necking Dust Bunnies)

The year that knew something had to change
edges of blame
The season that took us under it’s leaves
converged on violet spiked hair and Cole Hahns
arms compelled stretched out wide beneath starlight pleas
The month Grandmother Wind blew open her door
rubber-necking dust bunnies stooped on their haunches
witness the end of a languid tug-of-war
The week sleep dreaming bore rainbows of sound
warrior arpeggios journeyed through limp forms
cavorting with rivers of blood run aground
The day the trees climbed into her heart
deep in a forest as she sat near a stream
on leaves that tickled her thighs with their edges of sharp
The hour the red-tailed hawk perched high
in the top of an autumn pine watching her
as she sat by a stream on leaves that tickled her thighs
The minute Spider climbed the leg hairs to my knee
in the strong of the wind with a lunch of red ant
snapped shut in her jaw as we sat by a stream on leaves
The second night fell shut thick deep black
and clasped our body tight to her breast
in a chorus of aromas and freedom of silence as we sat
  • Rewrite of "Red Cap" from the Wolf point of view

  • One July a woman child carried some butter buns
  • in a wicker basket with an arsenal of guns
  • through my forest wearing a red cap on her head,
  • baggy camo-pants, a black T-shirt and navy hightop keds.
  • On my foot she stomped real hard with no apology.
  • “Ouch!” I hollered, grabbed my foot and propped up on a tree.
  • “Hey you little red capped freak, come right back this way.
  • You have caused me to be lame just now. What have you to say?”
  • Camo-Red cap turned to face me, smirking bold as pink.
  • “What should I say? I only tried to kill a horrid stink.”
  • “Fair enough,” I did reply. “There is no love lost here.
  • but if you will not help me walk, I shan’t survive I fear.”
  • Camo-Red Cap thought a sec while standing on the path.
  • “I’ll help you to my grandma’s house where you shall take a bath.”
  • I liked that idea fine because I lacked the proper feet,
  • and hoped to find at Grandma’s house a little bite to eat.
  • When we arrived old grannie was all propped up in her bed,
  • reading a Dean Koonz paperback with rollers in her head.
  • Camo-Red Cap shoved clean towels and soap into my arms,
  • and pushed me towards the stovetop like a bossy old schoolmarm.
  • “Bathe here in this pot of water, so warm and big and wide.
  • I’ll hold the soap and clean towels while you climb to get inside.
  • And hurry up or I will stomp upon your other toes.
  • I’m getting tired and cranky from this holding of my nose”
  • It did not seem a good idea to me to be twice lame,
  • but on the other hand seemed worse to climb atop that flame.
  • And then I spied a catalog beside the flour bin
  • with order forms for new wolf pelts partially filled in.
  • “Ah ha,” I thought, “so that’s her game. She plans to steal my coat.
  • This Camo-rat has tricky sleeves, but I can bite her throat.”
  • I lunged at her and ate her up before she blinked an eye.
  • It was an act of self-defense. I’m not an evil guy.
  • Granny did not seem upset, which I thought rather crass.
  • She said she feared this child who was a cruel and wicked lass.
  • “Wolf, you’ve saved me just like that. One bite is all it took.
  • So stay with me and take your bath and grab yourself a book.”
  • The moral of my story is if you’re a wolf with hair,
  • stay off the path cause camo-girls are really on a tear.
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  • Love Like A Bullet

    didn't want your love on me 
    but you aimed it like a bullet
    felt it pierce my skin, my heart
    and I tried so hard to pull it

    didn't want you in my dreams
    with your astro hypno-eyes
    getting close and confusing me
    now I am the poster child

    for a heart that can't help show it
    a dance that's never done
    like celestial objects spinning spinning
    fun isn't always fun 
    with a midnight sun

    some how I cannot get around the sound of you
    I know your walk, hear your gait, I'm glued
    Are you my magnetic north and my true? 

    to be free is to let you go as I fall
    I breathe
    You have my heart
    I keep my sanity

    you lean on my left arm, my legs go weak
    I put my headphones on, let silence speak
    you close the last hall door and drop love crumbs
    Will I give them all back to you when the right time comes?

    is it not too soon for a morning moon?



    I saw a predator
    and compelled to defend
    I took a stance
    our dance
    a dangerous romance


    If I Come To You (song)

    If I come to you - when we meet
    across this summer silhouette of lovers strolling through the streets
    will you be holding a cigarette -
    you see, baby, I just don't know you that well - yet
    If I come to you - when we meet
    will your chin be tilted down, glancing shyly at your feet
    will your hands be tucked inside the pockets of your blue jeans
    or reaching for my smile
    If I come to you - when we meet
    will your lips be softly parted - your eyes undress my need
    will you be standing off to the side
    or lean into my body and straddle my desire
    you see, baby, I just don't know you well enough to believe
    if I come to you, you will come to me

    Who Are You (or You SUCK) (song)

    Who are you - what's your name
    I know you told me - but you did not say
    no you did not say - you would take my heart
    and give me nothing - but a cold false start
    yeh you gave me nothing - I thought you gave me love
    you gave me nothing - just an empty glove

    so beautiful and dangerous
    the way you sit up on that cliff
    companion of Persephone
    all ships are stopped on the open sea
    mariners jump into the starboard waves
    a desperate swim to the siren caves
    your irresistibly seductive voice
    called me to make a foolish choice
    with music and song that enchanted me
    I dove into your dark unstable sea
    I think it gives you such a devil's laugh
    to knock this sailor off her windward path
    when I find a way to stem this tide
    I'll reverse my course and save my wounded pride
    climb back aboard my super dreadnought ship
    if I may be so blunt, you SUCK - may your tide rip.

    Young Buck Series


    I know a young buck who needs to chill
    she'll never read this, she can't stand still
    wild and aggressive fallow deer 
    seeking out her doe, repelling as she goes
    instincts gone awry
    though she's no monster or cacodyl
    she's swimming in vodka and rye
    she'll soon meet her match and collide

    and when she falls off her Man O' War
    tumbling into the kind overlord
    what was she doing up on that horse
    precarious posturing on high
    the offended will breathe a sigh

    Condensed version:
    I know a young buck who needs to chill
    If she doesn't back it off, somebody else will


    she seems a bit of a Lothario 
    her walk a slow prowl 
    half panther, half privileged executive
    her name is I want you now
    her plan is to keep you off balance
    push you to risk your virginity
    pull you off your vows


    Her Eyes


    her eyes are
    nearly as piercing as mine
    and in a competition
    for top

    swampy mood swings
    untether and slip 
    rotted cypress branch topples

    I hear it crush my head
    it doesn't
    yet I am dead

    I beat my own chest back to life

    she is still in the bog
    compassion gets the better of me
    and with a long red mangrove root
    I touch her sheltered spine

    and see her ungrateful eyes


    and smell her wine


    Twisted Heart of Stone

    I get sucked into your
    twisted heart of stone
    melted by the burning and the broken
    and you know
    hard is softened by the urgency of release
    I'll put my hands where you need them to be
    someday - when you come
    to me
    Is it easier to be alone?

  • Having Seen Fear

  • Having seen
  • fear leave
  • the eye of a child come out
  • from hard face self-exiled from heart bruised
  • in places love ought adorn
  • old in places too young to be worn who
  • when yanked from the safety of oblivion
  • and thunderous pain
  • into the womb of this work that
  • God has made of you slowly over time
  • smiles softens and plays,
  • I must believe you are precious, and I
  • must believe there is grace.

  • Fear can bring me to
  • my knees
  • cause me to stop breathing suck the
  • air right out of my lungs
  • pretzel my mind maze my thoughts sharpen
  • my tongue

  • move me to
  • collect arsenal to use
  • give me the blues
  • won’t let me wear red
  • tell me not to Go home tell me not
  • to Leave home curl me up into a ball move my
  • bowels
  • move my feet race my heart convince
  • me seduce me control me refuse me make me save me
  • educate me shock my sleepless mind open the door
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  • This Woman

  • There was
  • this woman I loved so much that
  • I spent six years of my life with her,
  • climbed inside a completely unnatural bird to Paris,
  • an overbooked, oxygen deprived 757 jumbo jet,
  • irritable sticky-faced kids
  • crawling across our United Airlines laps
  • in search of their over-caffeinated parents.

  • There was this woman
  • who loved me so much that
  • she spent six years of her life with me
  • watching the sun go down over
  • asphalt highways coming home from
  • the sandy shores, terrified to be the one behind the wheel
  • to drive across the Chesapeake Bay bridge.

  • I rode
  • shotgun in the dusk, holding her shoulders,
  • stroking her hair, balm for her death-grip driving,
  • stubborn and determined to steer us clear, her big
  • tears soaking into my old denim jacket that she
  • always had to borrow, just to feel safe
  • sometimes..
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  • He

  • he
  • was having
  • trouble
  • looking out of his eyes that day.

  • he
  • lost his balance
  • a few times.
  • most of the outside view
  • from the inside of his eye sockets was blurred.
  • he appeared silent, a little low, to anyone looking.
  • feeling trapped, restless, stir crazy

  • he
  • put down the paperback life he’d been living
  • to relax the tension at the sides of his eyes.
  • his thoughts turned to his lover at work
  • and his stomach turned over, again,
  • some virus or flu

  • he
  • wasn’t sure which.
  • better to stay home in bed
  • then risk a walk and shitting
  • uncontrollably down his own legs.
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  • The Woman Who Sits in the Chair

    I force the weight
    of my anger
    onto you
    when you reach
    too deeply into
    my wound
    took me all year to tell you
    I feel close
    my voice a bit too loud
    bleached by desert sun
    not even with both our loves
    do I feel safe
    in this room
    many layers
    many veils
    feeling closer feeling wrong
    I don’t want to live
    the rest of my life
    with my shoulders up to my ears
    my mother from
    her grave
    smiles upon you
    holds you in her arms
    nudges you on
    just how you love me
    she loves you for that too
    she fixes your coffee
    winks like the dew
    I wish I had stories
    from the old ones who knew
    mine were the wandering jews
    gypsies from south Peru
    Navaho families
    our stories all scattered
    by war
    I am afraid
    I will never see
    your appointment book

  • Writing II
  • February 3, 2001
  • Confessions of An Unwed Mother

  • Dear Everyone,

  • "Get it off your chest."

  • "Lighten your load."

  • "Confession is good for the soul."

  • "You're only as sick as your secrets."

  • How shall I ease my disclosure? I have wanted to tell you for years the things I will finally say. Mostly, I live the unexamined life deemed not worth living by Plato. I don't wax philosophical with the same passion that buoys my children and lovers. For me, a mountain snow is as breath-taking an experience to behold as a plowboy leading a team of mules. Imperative, urgent, seasonal. A civil rights group marching on Washington as graceful a dance as a red-tailed hawk circling it's prey. You may laugh, but I am a product of natural law. Yes, you do forget this often.

  • I feel little discomfort in telling you that I have had many lovers and married not one. This, I'm quite certain, you already know. A few have written songs professing my beauty and their undying love, forthright and committed while in the throws of passion. I don't recall sending any one of my lovers away, though they leave. With a clash of ideals I see the first signs of unrest and they are gone. Though I am saddened by these losses of adoration, I am not broken or seriously harmed. So, alone, I bear the beauty and the grief of hurricanes, fires, floods and downed 747's. The mischief of clear-cutting forests and slash-and-burn. Even so, I am still convinced there is a brave new world.

  • I am witness to the grand confessions of rich men, poor men, serial killers, thieves, pyromaniacal corporate slugs, presidents and priests. I listen in on the small, precious "ownings up" of children; toy breakers, puppy tail pullers, class bullies, little sister pushers. With each of these I may always be as compassionate and understanding as I am judgmental and cruel. Still, disclosing my secret to you now is not made easier.

  • Catholics receive Absolution and do Penance. Criminals receive Immunity and do Freedom. Homosexuals receive a seat on Jenny Jones and get Murdered. Presidents receive a Subpoena and get Impeached, or not. Addicts and Alcoholics receive The First step and do Eleven More Steps. And I? What will I receive when I give my full confession? A hug, kiss, golden locket? I cannot afford to be concerned. I must tell you now.

  • You have broken my heart. I begot you children that I love and adore, yet, I am not proud of everything you do. For all for the lovely qualities in some, I cannot abide what others have become. You are arsonists, terrorists, rapists and thugs. You commit unspeakable crimes of homicide, genocide, suicide and abuse of power. Are you the children that came from my womb? The sibling rivalry, elitist drudge. You are deranged and inconsolable. And you are not only a few. I cannot disown you. I am your mother. I am the keystone. I will always do what I can for you. A good provider, I have sheltered and fed you, strengthened and guided you. I have given you the means to heal your wounds. Still, you are out of control. Some appear soulless. You have harmed yourselves and others, including me, and I am angry.

  • Having kept silent for far too long, I ache as I write these words. Still, they are not my most difficult secret to confess. I won't be making the same mistake again. In warning I tell you, the most agonizing confession for me is this. My beloved children, before you can kill me, I will kill you.

  • All my love,
  • your mom,
  • America
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  • Cat

    You wanted
    an amiable cat
    you didn’t
    get that
    yours was found
    half drowned
    in a gutter of rain
    a panicked and fearful catten
    with a brain

    She doesn’t believe
    you love her
    she mustn’t be foolish
    like that
    if your apartment provides
    small caverns
    she’ll hide
    eat when she’s ready
    and scat

    Your habits don’t begin
    to amuse her
    that toilet disturbs
    her day nap
    and you are enormous
    and terribly high
    how will a cat
    get a look in your eye
    she’ll skitter and scatter
    ‘til you come to her size

    You’ll just
    have to
    stand still
    a moment to be
    her name is inside
    she’ll give you a try
    she’ll say it just once
    then she’ll hide.
  • Wait ... Don't Answer

    Why do you
    make me
    don’t answer
    I will take you
    with me I
    want you
    any place we do it
    is tight enough
    against my thigh
    hard into the side of
    a mountain your
    wet cavern slide
    suck my fingers
    sunset your naked
    shoulders neck
    just your voice on
    answering machine
    your surrender to
    tiredness from long work
    moans mons
    is sexual undress
    my cheeks flush
    wet yearning swells
    seductive vocal overtones lick
    I will take you in the rain forest
    get you biten
    full of earth
    passion me hold
    you down your back snakes
    along cool brown soil leaves
    we have never
    on my couch
    are you
    made love
    why do you make me
    wait you say you may
    shock me one day
    take me
    some place
    do it
    different from
    the lover you keep
    better than
    the emotion you feel for her
    ocean swim
    back stroke breast
    salt water beads nipple tease
    torrential desire full
    blood heat surrender secrets
    palm on palm we flame each
    other we fluster
    your soft tongue hot
    wet melts my hard
    spasm your full lips
    suspend me
    where will you take
    me while we get it
    that we love each other
    that you have a lover
    passion in a
    fight for freedom we
    have I been banished to my
    room self sex touch
    my luxurious tribal
    wave to your lips on
    held breath
    why do you make me
    don’t answer

    My Part I

    We find each other like
    trackers in the snow
    we smell each others
    emotional feces
    we know

    we recognize our allies
    our foes
    we trap ourselves
    we hang on so tight

    we cluster into fear groups
    who’s had the scariest life
    who’s the angriest
    who hangs in the balance
    who’s cool can never be blown
    who never had a chance

    My Part II

    The ones who arrived before us say
    one of our worst enemies
    one that will guarantee our failure
    lays waiting in the recesses of our own minds.
    They tell us we must always be wary of
    contempt prior to investigation.

    I have become exhausted beyond
    my own sick experience with depletion and hopelessness
    lowered myself into the deepest crevice of my insanity
    stumbled over my own emotional feces
    and fallen into cracks I swore I’d never enter
    for fear I’d not return to the crevice
    I challenged with my willfulness
    in search of my home.

    This much I know.