Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Earth Axis Girl

Earth axis girl
with a spring fever tilt.
Kneel dirty knees
wet with murder and milk.
You're flowering.

A beautiful flowering.

Ekphrasis girl
a paint by the blind
blood buried braille
for fingers to find.
You're sparrowing.

Starling and sparrowing.

You've got sky between your thighs.
You're built of the bones of archetypes
that know it's better to be alive
than wise and dead.
So open up your head

and let wildflowers seed.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Thursday, January 12, 2017

Arsenic Mirror

When we scry with an arsenic mirror, poison
blackens the brightest suns,
fouls the fairest fortunes,
and smudges the saintliest souls.
Glass gassed with our own
undigested venom gives a glimpse
of the godless ghosts we're twinned
to in the womb.

Arsenic mirror (a highly unscientific definition) - an old method of detecting arsenic poisoning.  If the ignited gasses from the stomach of a corpse smudged a cool glass or plate, arsenic was present. Anyone else watching Taboo?

For Kerry's prompt at Real Toads

Tuesday, January 10, 2017


I dare you to love me
just a little bit wrong.
Forget what you've read
in my file and my palm.
Wrestle me down -
a robin and worm.
If I'm wet,
I'm easier to swallow.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Sunday, January 8, 2017


I'm a dinosaur -
bits of dinosaur -
a fossil buried deep

beneath a hundred feet
of shale and should.

I have a pickaxe in my backpack,
a therapist,
and some weed;

I need to know if I'm extinct
for good.

The unconscious -
my unconscious -
wakes when ego sleeps

and kicks the puppies
everybody loves.

I have a strong back
and a small sack
of symbols I found cheap

on the internet;
that will have to be enough.

For Poetry Pantry at Poets United

Thursday, January 5, 2017


What will you make of me?
A wanted poster?
A tarot card?
An advertisement for skin or a warning against
such pleasures of the flesh?
Stern temperance or wet 
for your long stretch of dry county?

Around me
light is a thought barely spoken -
its utterance snuffed against my angular bones.
My eyes are the stones 
cast at witches and whores.
My cunt is old 
as the four edges of the world.

But I'm just a girl.
All alone, sir
and awfully grateful for your care.
A girl,
yes, take me home, sir;
take my picture if you dare.

A rather rough draft for Fireblossom Friday at Real Toads

Wednesday, January 4, 2017


I've written my obituary and yours as well -
in cool, blue ink - the sperm of a star.
Every poet for hire in a hipster jacket
carries copies next to her heart.

The time has come to be kremlined, Comrade.
There will be sleep and sleep and sleep.
Let the Motherland read you the fake news at night
and tuck your covers around your feet.

Observe, the book - spider-cracked down its spine -
the broken back of the written word.
Behold, Students, the annexation -
the looming cliff, the herd!

Some musings on the future for Midweek Motif ~ Vision at Poets United

Sunday, January 1, 2017

Two By Two

When he leaves you,
really leaves you,
let him leave you;
believe he's gone.
Don't try to carry on

or do your best.  Rest
in the small death scattered pieces of you.
Let the bloody matter dry.
Then cry -

forty days and forty nights
and out of sight of dry land.
Wait for his dove with an olive branch;
strangle it with your bare hands.

and with time
the flood inside you
will subside,
and you'll have learned
the lie
of two by two.

For Poetry Pantry at Poets United