My body is a painting;
a canvas covered in tiny handprints
from a little girl learning basic skills
to the messy strokes of an adolescent
whose life is too colorful to choose just one.

Blue is the serene waves of Zuma Beach
that I swam in when I was a child.
Red is the blouse my grandmother wore
on the morning she succumbed to white.
Black is the hopelessness I feel on days
when there’s no yellow in the sky.

My body is a cage;
an empty cell of shattered dreams
that is almost as demoralizing
as the sound of her intrusive voice.

The plan so far has gone off without a hitch
How foolish they are to believe I care at all for anything but the riches and the title
Every minute I'm counting down that much closer to my wildest dreams come true

Rather it's right or wrong I feel it's what I deserve
One long, happy forever life filled with fame and loads of money
All mine, mine, mine!
Don't and won't share it with anyone

Too bad too for him that I don't plan to be faithful
Oh well, what my prince never knows ain't gonna hurt him

This whole goody goody act is just a facade

Dockyard Boy and the Gypsy Child


His boots keep time to his whistle. The skritch
of leather-on-stone cuts through a fast-fading

fog that shrouds her as she twirls, fey-footed,
skirts flaring to his tune.  He picks at a snared

cable stitch on the sweater his gran knitted him
to block the ribbons of cold air in this March

wind. He will not step near her tinker's grove,
warned away by his foreman, friends, and family

but she follows him again this morning, wisp-thin,
willow-limbed child. Her people will be shifting

in search of love
to warm those cold nights
when frost hangs from every window pane
and the ground feels like its twenty below
and all the good we do
is reduced to a negative number
and there is no place to run
as you attempt to hide from the pain
as we search for love.

The noises, molds,
the fleas, the colds
that stuff his nose,
the rats—such woes
don’t trouble those
who populate
a town whose gate
proclaims it’s great.
Though he strolls past schools
and public pools,
the fancy cars
near crowded bars
or the shopping center,
this joe, a renter,
can’t spare the price
of a bowl of stew
or gum to chew
in this paradise.
And so he dwells
in a cellar of hells—
spiders, roaches—
and so he broaches
the keg that holds
a jillion pounds
of determination.
He fills his cup
and bravely sips

Zinfandel

Why does red wine make you cry?

The space for response is left
empty as he sticks his nose
into the glass and pretends
to be one of those people
who is distinguished.

What was meant:
I wish I could tell you more about this.

The response of her eyes:
I know it’s hard.

4 AM has him curl on the floor
cradling knees in arms and
raising his glass to the picture
resting on his squalid desk.

Look at me now, dad.

And he drinks.

I want to carve myself into the book of immortality
My epitaph: "Live, love and learn."

Join my dance with my soul in rhythmic splendor
Erase the agony of loneliness, hopelessness
Celebrate my life, now, in the moment
I may topple from the pinnacle of success
Thrashing into the gloom of utter despair
Only to rise again to celebrate

But what if I never reach these lofty heights?
What if I stay as "everyman" doing my thing
Work, love, rejoice in the chorus for the world
Almost gratified with what I have and not have

Once upon a time in a town nearby. There ran a blonde girl progressing to die. She ran and she ran as fast as she can Away from her problems and to the dope man. She was pretty and smart, not rich and not poor She went to school, had a daughter but that was before. She ran and she ran till she was Queen of the damned The dope had her stuck in a fantasy land. Evil can get you in so many ways. He'll smile in your face, yet lead you astray. She ran and she ran till she had nothing left Always searching for answers but getting a test. She ran and she ran, quickly stripped of her smile I know thi

Don't ask me to stay, and don't tell me to leave. I'm paralyzed under the weight
of your indecision; flowers are blooming in the grassy wet field of my left thigh
and the plans I've never had the courage to follow through with thud dully
with my heartbeat against the insides of my eyelids.
As much as our culture is saturated with exquisite pains, from
the sacred to the profane and their combination, I still shy away
from the heavy stuff. Let's go out for a walk, let's get away
for just an hour. Baby, let's lie on the ground