Delicate Ink-stained Hands

My world is filled

with lined notebook paper.

My looping cursive in black ink

exorcising my thoughts and ideas.

A ritual,
an offering.

This the only way I know how.

I have always been ruled

by this compulsion,

this obsession,

with the written word.

Don't Try To Go Back

It won't be as you remembered.

Thinking about memories.

Attempting to relive
moments.

Try too many times
and they become tainted,
warped by your own mind.

Dosed and disintegrated
in nostalgia.

What Blooms Between Us?

I spend rainy Oregon afternoons

lost in conversation

with you.

As the day's colors

pass through the big window,

we are bathed

in shifting light.

Lights Out

Sleepy and sad,
I wait patiently
for an unknown
blue nebula
to take me.

Finally, I turn
the light out
to sleep.

It feels final
somehow.

Lonesome But Content

She wasted time painting
still life scenes
of citrus fruits and flowers.

The telephone never rang
so she occupied her hands and her mind.

I Dream In Shades Of Pink

Drinking tart wine,
I gaze out
at elegant, aristocratic gardens.

The blue wink of the sea
on the horizon.

A stretch of silence...
Then the symphony music plays on
as I drift through a  romantic period
of youth.

Lightening Strikes Twice

Summer storms
and extramarital affairs.

All coming to light
at the country club
to a shocked audience
with mouths agape.

The Possibilities Of A Bathtub

As a child,
I imagined
epics playing out
on the sea
of soapy water
in my bathtub.

As a woman,
retreating to
my bubble bath
with wine and candles,
that still holds true.

I've always let
my imagination
out to play
in the ocean
of my home.

Slumber In The Golden Age Of Television

Strange lives and stories
play out in the bright holographic glow
of the TV set as we sleep.

Sound turned low, a humming.
Blankets tangled.
Steady breaths.

The TV ramblings invade our dreams.

Children Can Speak Such Chilling Words

The child spoke of red skies
and chasms opening in the ground worldwide.

He frightened me,
I'll admit it only to myself.

Film reels of the old Omen movie
began screening in my head.

A devil's prophecy?
A devil's son?

I am foolish, I know,
but prone to these bouts of paranoia.

Love, Music, and Death

I meet you
at the record player's needle.

Stacks of albums
lovingly organized.

You're gone
but our favorite songs
fill my home and my heart.

Seek Your Gold

Welcome to America,
land of promise,
of greed.

The people roam and settle,
hunting gold,
faces dirty,
hands desperate.

Seek your gold.
What shall it be?
What shall you yield?

I Fold Myself Into You

I make myself small.
I fit myself in,
nestling into a home.

My hopes
poured into your earthly body.

A celestial marriage.

Dangerous Girl

She cut the powder
with a razor blade.

I gasped
at the sight of it.

She ignored me.

Or perhaps,
was so concentrated
that my audible surprise
did not even register.

It seemed such a dangerous
tool to carry around
in one's purse.

A plastic credit card
would have done the trick,
neatly dividing drug lines.

But that wasn't her style,
I would come to learn.

She preferred the dangerous choice
in everything possible.

A taste for self-destruction.

A Beautiful Note To Go Out On

The drunk sky
vomits colors
everywhere.

A fucking
incredible sunset.
Even my cynical self
is impressed.

It's so pretty,
it almost feels like
the end of the world.

Places We Must Never Visit

Impossible creatures,
monstrous
in nature,
call out
all over this world.

Sing out
a siren's lure
to the depths.

Sinister jaws
and strange,
churning bellies
await.

The Last Time

The radio croons
a love song
while we sit
in discomfort.

Until he switches
it off to a
tense silence.

This is the last time
we'll see each other.

But of course,
I don't know that
until much, much later.

Golden Myths

We rise
in our own consciousness
as Gods.

Shining the purest light
from inside out.

Living in ecstasy.

You cannot tell us
it is fantasy.

For it is how we see
the world,
how we see ourselves.

Visiting The Past?

Does the world
I used to know
still exist,
alive and breathing,
somewhere out there?
In some form?

Perhaps in a shift
of time and space.

In a world
unfathomably far
by space travel
or magic.

Backyard Flamingos

The eccentric millionaire
kept a flock of flamingos.

His most cherished possession.

They roamed
in a vast expanse of his backyard,
near the tennis court.

It certainly raised a few eyebrows
in the neighborhood.

Looking Through Old Photographs

Hazy
discolored
photographs
of an era past.

A time
that doesn't exist,
not anymore.

But it seems better
in the mask of nostalgia.

You miss the person
you once were.

Perhaps only because
you can never go back.

An American Death

Alone,
the widow slowly bet away
her vast fortune
in a garish casino.

Losing card games
one by one
to pass the cruel time.

This was where she spent
her dying days.

A Chance Missed By Fate

Who have I missed by a moment?
A slip in time?

Will I ever connect with them?
Is that sort of thing meant to be?

Or will our paths never cross now?

Do People Really Pray?

Or are their minds full
of doubt
as they strike up a conversation
with their Lord and Savior?

Perhaps I'm just cynical.
That's highly likely.

I'm forgetting the human ability
to believe blindly
and live absolutely
in denial.

Global warming?
The extinction of animals?
The threat of a meteor?
Your inevitable death?
The death of everyone you know and love?

Let's pretend I didn't just say any of that.

That's how it works right?

Am I playing the game okay?

What a world...

Learning The Game

Young and lusty,
she's becoming aware
of her magic.

She sends sparks
and pretends not to see.

It's a complex game,
she already understands.

And yet,
all too simple.

The Witch On Television

The witch
comes on the
television screen.

Draped in a gown,
commanding respect,
demanding power.

Millions watch
from their homes.
No one knows
she is ageless.

Her exterior is
beauty and youth.
She has looked
this way for
the rise and fall
of civilizations.

Weaving her web
through human history.

But she is no human.

No, the witch is other,
older than our time.

A Meeting Of Old Lovers

We met
at our special spot
overlooking
the whole city.

A secret spot.

My heart jumped
when I saw
your sleek convertible
pull up,
American cherry red.

Watching the sun rise,
it's as though
we were back
at the beginning
of it all.

Pure Joy

Moments of
intense joy
make up
a life.

Those moments
are what being
a human
and having a soul
are about.

Warm Parties On Icy Nights

The moon hangs low
but my spirits are high.

Nursing whiskey
in a velvet dress.

The windows frost
and my breath is smoke.

Drawn to the fire,
I warm my thin limbs
and search for
good conversation.

Paris Chateaus

My tongue a bit unsure
as I speak French.

I think about
all the beautiful buildings
in Paris.

The monuments and chateaus
flutter across
the veins in my eyelids
as I sleep.

The Girl That Parents Don't Like

The type of girl
who sits in
the back of class,
the back of the bus,
the back of the movie theater.

Up to no good
and always
somewhere else to be.

When Earth Was Young

The stars were
impossibly brighter
and the air was
impossibly purer.

No one was around
to wonder why
this particular planet
and the vast spread of stars
existed.

No one to ask
the meaning of the universe.

It all simply was.

Falsity

No matter what
they want you to believe.

"Blonde bombshells"
lead just as boring lives.

Money won't fix
a dysfunctional family.

And all those things you bought
won't matter when you're dead.

Infinite

This day feels infinite,
endless.
No start and no end.

It's a good thing,
if you were wondering.

To feel almost
as though I can stop time
for a bit.

To just revel
in the moments.

Bloody Clothes

Blossoming stains.

At first,
bright.

Then forgotten,
faded dark.

Then rusted,
abandoned.

Peach, Lemon, Strawberry

Peach juice
running down my chin,
sticky on my fingers.
In a red gingham dress,
I feast
on the ripeness
in the heavy heat
of the summer afternoon.

Lemon on my tongue.
The rind swirling
round my cocktail.
Tart explosion.
Stars hang, crystalized,
in the vast night sky.
My blue velvet dress
clings to every curve.

Strawberry stains on my lips,
my palms a vibrant red.
I bake a sweet pie.
Domestic girl
in a soft green dress
with rock n roll music
and the curious cat
as my cherished company.

Whatever Helps

Tarot cards spread out,
a flimsy fate
by the chaos
of the deck.

A flimsy belief
in controlling
one's life.

As if
it changes anything.

Still, I'm all for
whatever helps.

Sex.
Whiskey.
God.
Mary Jane.
Yoga.
Tarot cards.

Take your pick.

For Those Unsure Of Their Existence

If unsure
of one's own existence:
looking at
one's mirrored
reflection
may help.

A warning:
confronting
one's own reflection,
quite possibly,
may only make
one's turmoil worse.

A Bloody Crown

I take the crown
from upon
his dead skull.

Wiping the brain matter
before placing it
on my rightful head.

The throne is cold
but I don't notice.

My thoughts
float away.

The intoxication of power
is already coursing through
my royal veins.

Small Citrus Pleasures

She grows
lemon and lime
trees.

Tending to them
like children.

Delighting in
the growing
citrus.

She slices them
into her cocktails.

She bakes them
into her pastries.

The acidic profile
is always
on her tongue.

The Hysterical Dead

The corpses laugh
at the frantic
living.

They guffaw,
bloated with
death and decay.

Great, heaving
roars
as white bones
dance
and maggots shake off.

Overnight on the Train

The train windows
fogged up
cloudy with a
blue glow
from the passing
night stars.

With my finger
pressed against the
cold frosted glass,
I wrote out
what I longed to tell you
but my lips
would not speak.

The Woman's Pet Snake

The iridescent snake
slid and coiled
around her
smooth arm
and well-manicured hand.

Scales cold,
it drank from
the glass of warm
red wine
with her.

Tongue flickering.

Gods Of Another Nature

Gods older
than any constructs of time.

Larger than any
constructs of space.

Well beyond
the imagination
of the human mind.

Gods merciless and alien
to the tribulations of life.

This belief
was as close as she could get
to the mainstream religion
she'd been spoon-fed since birth.

At least,
this belief felt
plausible and true to her.

Vacant Eyes

The rain fell hard
upon her
dead cheek.

Beheaded and gone,
her hair still gleamed golden
in the town square.

Too many eyes
stared into
her own.

Empty now.

By way of the guillotine.

Vaguely Spiritual

Crystal arrangements
and the sweet stink of
homegrown weed.

Tight bodysuits
and "fuck me"
yoga positions.

The digital glow
of self-love,
karma,
mantras.

Have you tried
coconut oil?
It's life changing.

With My Eyes Closed

There are some things
I can only see
with my eyes closed.

Dancing light
and colors.

Scenes of my life
that will never
come to be.

I imagine if I had
said something different
or been somewhere
I wasn't.

I go and venture
in my mind
to all those parallel worlds.

Some things I see
only with my eyes closed.

But that's how it's supposed to be.

A Future Landscape

Unused days
stack ahead of me.

Untold events to happen.
Conversations to be had.
Places to be visited.

Revelations hidden
in the intricate web
of neurons inside
my dark-haired head.
Wisdoms biding their time.

But for now,
I look out
towards the waiting life
ahead of me
like a landscape
whose beauty
I cannot quite comprehend.

The Nightly Gatherings Of My Beloved Alley Cats

The alley cats
congregate,
discussing politics.

They act out
great love affairs
and tragedies.

I watch,
like a God,
from my second story
window.

Nighttime in the Neighborhood

In the darkest
of night.
Feeling the chill.

Listening to the neighborhood
sprinklers switch on and off.
A flood.

Coyotes and raccoons
scamper through the
suburban sprawl.

It's nice to have these moments
alone.

Observing the environment.

The local ecosystem.

A Distant Beginning

Images of this life,
or perhaps the next,
dance on
my delicate eyelids.

Another world begins
as this one falls
to its knees.
Blood spreading
in a puddle.

Lights are beginning,
lit somewhere
out there.

While our lights
are dimming
fast.

Ancient Language of the Owls

Owls hoot
every night
in the tree
outside my
bedroom.

Speaking to me
in some ancient
language.

The urgency
in their tone
is alarming.

I feel a deep need
to decipher
these midnight calls.

Their heads
turn round.
Eyes bright,
gems against the
dark tangle
of branches.

A New State Of Being

Walking until
my feet bleed
numb.

But my mind
is clear.

A room of mirrors
ice cold.

The truth shines in
bright and quick
like a deep cut.

My illusions
are shattered.

Before the blood wells
thick.

Before I return.

Ghosts Swim

Invisible hands
outreached
in the ink depths
of the nighttime
swimming pool.

I tiptoe around the edge
just out of reach.

Darkness transforms
the aquamarine chlorine
into a sinister
void.

I see the line between
our world
and theirs
but I never step any closer.

The Deadliest Sin

The ultimate sin:
to end someone.

To end
their constant
inner monologue.

To end
their vessel of years
and years
of memories.

To murder
is a powerful act.
Often not considered
in its full
magnitude.

Until the trigger pulled
or afterward,
the blade wiped clean.

Truths

There are truths
you always understand.

Love is good.
Pain hurts.

We know these from our first day
in this world.

And we keep relearning
these truths
in different lessons
over and over again
until we die.

I Lie Here Ignoring The Devil

Satan waits
in the corner of
my bedroom
every night,
3 to 4 AM.
Patient
but waiting all the same.

Waiting for me
to acknowledge him,
to cry,
to run,
to beg for mercy,
to fight.
Anything would do,
a reaction.
But I'm patient too.

I won't give him
the satisfaction.
I will not cry out to God or Christ.
I will not move a muscle.
It's likely that he knows this...
Perhaps not.

Perhaps I am better at this game
than he anticipated.

It is a game after all,
I can sense that.

Undressing

Unbuttoning
a dress.

Breasts full
and skin,
oh so white.

A pale sight,
almost an illusion.

If not for the
dark, cascading locks.

And that raspberry pout.

Blood Faucet

The faucet began to drip
blood.

Slow at first.
Then a gushing.

Horrified,
she began to cry.

In a panic,
wiping the thick, dark blood
on her legs,
on the expensive white towels.

The Greedy King

The castle is cold.

The king finds warmth
in the wet centers
of the girl servants.

He summons them
to his grand
royal bedroom.

The young girls
are mute except
for giggles.
Long hair
always braided.

The king steals
their innocence,
their warmth,
all for himself.

Portrait Of The Nephew With The Pigs

The young
freckled boy
stood smiling
among his
uncle's pigs.

Unaware that
the evening before,
they'd devoured
the entire
corpse
of a man.

A man
he'd known.

Red Wine Stains

Setting her wine glass
down too hard.
The glass sounded a thud.

Thick red nectar
sloshed over the sides,
spilling out onto the table.

A slow wave.

Briny and Alive

We sit in the sand and seaside grass
on a scratchy old blanket.

A calm day but the skies are grey,
gloomy in a comforting, familiar way.

Our century old beach house
is a beacon in the distance.
Warm with yellow light.

The Oregon coastline is empty.
We eat turkey sandwiches
with the dog wandering near.

We're alone and the salty air
clings to my lungs
as I breathe deeply.
Briny and alive.

I want to carry a fragment
of this ocean,
this beach,
this day
in me.

Along The Dark Road

The radio stations
preach
about Jesus
and sing
in foreign languages.

Warm and driving
in the
inky night.

We are two
lone travelers
in the
American West.

The Phantom Who Haunts Me

The phantom who haunts me
is a gentleman.

He disappears
when I undress.

He stops pacing and shuffling about
when I slip under the covers
to sleep.

I feel safe
as he stands guard
against any horrors
of the midnight hours.

The phantom who haunts me
is but a hazy photograph, of sorts.
A portrait of a man once alive.
But a gentleman till the end.

I suspect he has grown
quite fond of me.
Though I have no proof
but his seemingly courteous ways.

The phantom who haunts me
gets most excited at dusk,
when the watercolor sky blurs together
through my window and
his edges become much more defined,
if only for a moment.

I Could Swear It Was 1966...

Dark rum
and vibrant
green mint leaves.

Sucking down
a pretty cocktail
in my patterned dress.

You could confuse
the decades
on a night like this.