my life is a hooded woman with ruby red lips

leopard printed fluorescent jacket 

adjacent fluorescent bag shouldered

beside a bus stop's corner crumbled 

like a coastline or an old tooth filling

snow scurries in a hurry to arrive unlike

the bus orange stiped barrels direct 

flakes that descend diagonally like 

my life is a hooded woman with ruby red 

lips hastening down a cracked walk 

carries a caged orange tabby and I see 

that Judy is torn with disbelief.

night crashed fell fast

 

sky grows my atmospheric 

river the loss of loss

grief kite quit his book elving 

so easily persuaded

falling is failing is failing falling 

so airily displayed 

worries a familiar queen 

in what increments may I purchase 

time or knowing how to get around?

night crashed fell fast 

twinkled trees do not return my gaze 

chandelier this winter darkness

opened pale and backwards

exit entering 

windows in windows 

portal the darkness

night crashed fell fast

Smiling at the smack

waiting for 

the bus, nut 

smacks the oblivious

street, black 

feathers furl 

down, black 

beak pinches 

nearly indestructible 

treat, retreats to 

bold black wire 

safety, smiling 

still, waiting  

for the smack...

 

contemplative tea

 

sipping tea once

a sunny morning.

radiant tree zoo.

vert quiet island

 

very quiet island, episodic sitting, sometimes still, sometimes raspberries, cooking with chopin, the sky did not threaten, depending upon your perspective, to rain all day like a fifties striptease  gets so close without ever getting there, wordling myself into clouds again, abstract erotic hopeful poetry, suddenly the idea communes, tiramisu & tea-dirty chai, the champion of potatoes loves me again but only halfway, my day wore a tight t-shirt & the cockiest black jeans they have, cute babe reclines outside the pirate ship takes a surreptitious drag of me, 

i am writing because i care.

Evidence of Rain

 

Wednesday puddles

in slow motion 

explosions of

fuchsia & lilac 

ruffled rhododendrons 

swirl a little girl 

circles the aftermath

singing I am not

welcome but

I am not trapped.

grateful for blossom

and new wave on the grass.

evidence of rain.

Grateful for the clouds

 

Grateful for 

the clouds. I remember 

the morning behind the blinds, 

darkening. We say 

took the day off but 

never gave the day away. 

thick and malty, a day of 

dark teas. Grateful for 

the clouds after all 

that sun. I have 

begun to tan makes

all my scars 

glow.