Category Archives: Poetry


Blind, I traversed the streets

Begging at night, like a starving dog

Scraps of rancid meat

Always hungry


Jacaranda trees are in full bloom

You pick one for me

I save the petite flower, delicate and easily crushed, it survives

A breeze, a walk, a wet jean pocket

Two dragonflies dance together across the sky

Nuzzle me in the sunshine


I can see


For Just One Second

Side by side
We lay in ancient tombs
The world still forming shape
Ultraviolet undaes
Stratosphere seduction

Through: aurora, bolide, catena, nebula
We fly
Soaring through the rot and dust we rise
Fire eyes and frothy lips
We kiss a moonbeam kiss
and slow dance on Saturn’s rings
Oh Jovian planet-exquisite
I summersault, you flip
Birds and glowing butterflies
Cliffs that curl over our heads like frozen waves
We die, we die, we dance, we die

Vast oceanus sprawling wide
just for one second
we dive, die, dive
and orbit the universe inhaling each others light
Mons, planum
like spirits on a quest for plage,
we move through you.

We feel you.

Alpha Centauri leaves a lasting glow in our eyes.

We settle in our ancient tombs
Pulsing rapture
A white feather
Rotting teeth
Sleep on my shoulder


I sit in the abandoned vehicle and ponder what I have become.


In the night I lose my breath thinking of your hands on my back

Your smoky lips and long eyelashes

Your deep voice that sometimes you recorded

In the night, you come to me in clips of dream and memory

I learn to sleep often, in an attempt to find you again

In the night, I read a card you wrote me many months ago.

Title: “All that is good and sweet and true came to me because of you”

The hills are rocky and steep, jutting out like knives.  Reminisce of others lay cracked and dull at the foot.  Looking up I can see her, even through the clouds.  So peaceful, gracefully floating like mist between the valleys staring at the snow-capped peaks.  Her sky dance around the sun is a hot and cold one.  One you can feel.  An eclipse of a goddess, moves freely above oh so high playing with light and shadow.  The breeze oh so gentle for her-lifts her hair like those lifting the train of a wedding gown.  I see parts of her flash before me as if the wind carried her down piece by piece.  Her blessed feet, so tender so soft, so perfect, untouched; floating foundation.  Her palms, so clean and healthy joined to an unscared wrist.   Her hands never closed, never flinched.  Two open empty hands.  White veils blow against my face as she gets closer.  Flowers lean, trees point and stare, leaves come and join.  Unveiled her eyes, soulful eyes was all I could see.  The goddess and I wrapped in silk, cocooning us, diffusing the world around us.  Her eyes blink slowly like a resting butterfly.  I watch her breathe, floating, moving, as if in deep waters, I can see dreams of peace and harmony through the woven orb we now live in.  Sharp sparkles ricochet her brilliance in the distance.  Oh how far we seem.  We dance, we spin, we twirl.  She whispers “This is love.”  My empty soul absorbs the beauty she gives.  I whisper back, “I love you.”  I held her hand, she held the void in my chest, corking her beauty inside me.  My eyes flourish, my hair lengthens, ears hear birds sing.  So clean, so pure, oceans of milk below fill the valley.  Legs wrapped around me, we kiss, I cradle her, my hands fit perfectly.  Holding life, an angel, I hold her tight as she spins us like children on a tire swing.  I whisper, “I’ll never let go.” She opens her face with a smile.  In heaven again.  Open arms, fingers on harps, my love, my love.  I love in you everybody, I love through you the world, I love in you also myself.  Ready when you are, for you are the one.  Blissfully yours.


Back to sleep.

Drifting dreamer I’ve become.

For: You

We walk through the heat at midnight

He makes a fist with his hand when I try and hold it

Says he likes his hands free

Crescent moon

Pizza slices

He folds his over,

Then bites

The blocks of cement we pass

And like a gymnast on the beam, I tiptoe across

A black open gate with gold spikes

Someone’s red lace up shoes and a stained blanket

We pretend someone enters the gate

He closes it after them

I-open it up again

A shadow on my wall of me and his basil plant that sits on
the window’s ledge

He points it out

And in the film section of the bookstore

James Dean photographs

He’s doing ballet

We both wear our glasses

Blowing smoke outside the door

We move outside and forget about the spider

With the spotted legs that later we’ll photograph

In the morning we’re both bit

I check outside

Spiders in the same spot


Rain now and extra blankets

Clean and laundered fresh

On the outside porch of the Coffee shop


We read each other

For a long while

And browse the antique store with all the keys and cameras

And other people’s lives

And their stories

I dance

And come home to hold your hand and snooze

The spiders gone on vacation

Soon, we too will be in a vast desert

Each others red moon sweat

The books our blankets

Covered in thoughts

One shadow; two us

(The basil plant needs a new pot you say,

A different home-you say you’re learning to love)


And even if the basil plant went brown and all the leaves of
my life crumpled to dust

I would still open the black gates with gold spikes at

And love the shadow that’s silhouetted in the darkness

The Island

Like unfinished hems

The threads of canopy trees hang

and line the pathway above my head

We walk in silence

I try sour sap berries along the way

I gather medicinal leaves to make a sedative tea

Another fruit, like a potato is supposed to cure sixty-five ailments

Three stray and hungry cats meow for food

A deserted restaurant

A vacant beach

When we get into the water

We come together

We walk in silence back through the path with hanging
threads that stop before they reach the ground

And the potato fruit we cannot reach to take home

The sour sap berries are supposed to taste like lemonade,
but they have seeds and are bitter

Nosium and mosquito bites make mini-constellations on my
left leg

The cats grow irritable

A tourist throws a Pepsi can outside the local taxi driving by

In the Medical Cafeteria

I sit slouched, writing this poem

Watching the dark blue uniformed men and women wondering
what they’ve been up to today

Was it a birth? A bleeding spleen? Maybe a gun shot wound.

But here in the cafeteria you can smell death from their

The hand sanitizers and gloves and headpieces and surgical

And the little girl, the newborn,

stitches down the side of her skull

The wheelchairs and the diabetic

The sickness and sterility

There is madness here in this place of lunch dining

There are flowers in vases on each of the tables

Lilies that wilt and have started to turn from yellow and pink

to brown

The chairs are wooden and uncomfortable

There isn’t much warmth in medicine

My mother-a nurse, my father-a doctor, my boyfriend (at the time)-sells medical tools

They understand each other

Hugs are pats on the back

Kisses are irrelevant

I love you is please and thank you

Things are just like the people here-cold, utilitarian

And the most ugly painting in the world hanging high above
the cafeteria ceiling

It is a canvas of brown and blue, jagged puzzle pieces

The most boring painting in the world

There is no meaning that could come from this

Here is where true hell lies.