Street Lights

We look alight for two tangled bodies

from the outside we pass along the line

but indoors my heart is playing

spin the bottle

and hearts of hearts are 

thumping dark and hard.

we are flowered details 

on wall paper

waiting to make a 

big advance.

and I am tired. 

so tired.

and my bones are

tired and the flesh

that binds me is tired

and the atoms 

that break

and fold to allow

you into me 

are tired.

i'm so tired of

waiting for

you when i don't 

know when the

street light will

turn red. 


The lotion on my hands is a reminder of the softness of your skin. And all the lovers that have come between us, I have to log into my bank and hope that their ghosts won’t come knocking at my door in order to make tea. 

You speak in circles, your head in the stars. Making sentences out of memories. A collection of fables wave through your organs, and keep your blood pumping rampant. 

I never liked days like this. The rain washes away the dirt from the bottom of our shoes, which serve as a reminder of the places we’ve been.I can’t stay mad at you because the blues of your eyes remind me of a perfect sky I once saw, when all was good and still.  




When everything is digitized and mobilized, I am behind, or perhaps forward. I can't relate or comprehend, so I just watch. What is behind all that glitter? Fake eyelashes and more lipstick than lips. All I can do is gaze in amazement at how much I don't understand.

When this gushed up version of reality is pushed into my face, all I can do is wonder, am I the only one that notices the slime that holds the glitter together? 


a mouth opens and

a poem slides off the tongue like a watermelon seed.

It falls out onto the table

it soaks up the sun

and dries until it's hollow. 


a poem falls into a hand

and slides between the fingers.

It picks up the dirt beneath the fingernails,

and is thrown to the floor.


a poem slips down the throat,

and rests inside the stomach. 


When I walked into the daylight

it was if all my senses were awoken.

The sound of the children playing was crisp,

and I noticed the shapes their shadows made on the grass. 

The sunlight made circles in my eyes and little fires were lit in the irises.

My bones, they were fragile. 

I keep it all inside,

no one can see,

how the light and dark connect to make explosions in the deep crevices of my insides. 

Shadows play tricks,

but the light is



It's as easy as pie 

In a nutshell 

Said the cat out of the bag.

Let's get down to brass tacks. 

Wake up and smell the coffee! 

Because a watched pot never boils. 

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. 

It's slow as cold molasses in a snowstorm, 

that's the pot calling the kettle black. 

A leopard can't change it's spots because 

you're barking up the wrong tree.

If you can't cut the mustard

Don't cry over spilt milk. 

Because curiosity killed the cat, 

a wise man once said.

Don't count your chickens before they hatch,

or put all your eggs in one basket

because you can't beat a dead horse

between a rock and a hard place.

You'll learn the ropes.

Just have a taste of your own medicine!

Hit the ground running!

Throw caution to the wind! 

But don't kick he bucket! 

Because idle hands are the devil's tools..

You'll cut your nose off despite your face.

It takes two to tango...

So hold your horses.

Let bygones be bygones, 

and let sleeping dogs lie.

Because you can lead a horse to water, 

but you can't make it drink. 

Make no bones about it.

The eagle has landed, 

so it's water under the bridge. 

Don't throw the baby out with the bath water,

or judge a book by its cover

Just keep all your ducks in a row,

until hell freezes over.

Because you'll catch more flies with honey

than you will with vinegar.

But do what you want...

The ball's in your court. 




A thorn

in my side. 

Perfectly stuck

between the skin, 

and bone. 

Still able to see

the petals of it's rose. 

A disgusting blossom, 

that reeks 

of desire

and carnal force. 

He is dormant. 

A wick that is


A subtle smile

and enticing clutch. 

He points the arrow

and strikes. 

Pink Hotel

Our hotel is pink and peach, there are flower printed mattresses leaning against the wall. Dirt and mildew cake the doorways. Mosquitos buzz around my ears, around my skin, biting, hungry for blood. The air is wet, hot sticky. I can hear the base of the music playing from the restaurant next door. Nothing is quiet, not even the night.   


There's something exceedingly scary about a carnival to me. Maybe it's the drunks and the dirt. Salty foods, suggestive postures and the latest trends, all colliding with sweat and whispers. My stomach felt upset, like I ate too much cotton candy, fried dough and popcorn, even though I didn't eat any of those. Lots of screaming children, dressed like teenagers, afraid to go on kiddie rides. Their mothers holding them, wearing more lipstick than lips; dried out hair from too much dye; speaking Spanish through cigarette smoke.    


Love is a warrior

with arrows that suck on

the spice of blood

love enjoys the angst

between it's jagged teeth

it pulls at my waist 

it smiles at my desire

for it

rose bushes with roses

a blinding red

thorns like evil fingers

dipped in poison 

dripping with someones sweat.

tears sweeping across 

the cheek of a lover

make a river of diamonds

in the dark of


what a pretty boy she'll say

what a beautiful boy

but her fingers are placed

upon her own hand

love is a warrior

and it's lips are cold

with mint

the icy silver of its gun 

is pressed against her

and it fills her with pleasure

blood taints the eyes of 

it's messenger

and a smile is forever

in it's place

as i wait for the warrior