we carry with us the uninhabitable breathe and bosom of our children, us as children, ripening like medlar fruit always fighting back the decay, i've been questioning lately what we've all left behind, what we traded, that sultry taste of eve's bittersweet fruit beneath the tongue, innocence & knowledge, innocence & madness, madness & the  ( Read more... )

My Mother is a creation myth,
a story of origins
and allegories,
her breast a mess
of cross-stitched carvings
fitted into a skin
the color of red-rose clay,

with two sullied silver rings on each
of her swelled fingers,
none of which she's taken off
since 1996.

When I come to visit 
at her tiny turquoise house
on Hobart Street,
she is always perched 
at the far ( Read more... )

[there's no way I'm forgetting this]

you are most handsome
when you are laying back in bed
your slippers still on
and hanging off the bed
just the tiniest amount
so that I can't complain
remote in hand,
your beer sweaty on the nightstand
your shirt haphazard on the floor
where the dinner dishes lay
beneath crumbled paper towels
and tiny grape stems
and one half-browned grape
that we decided wasn' ( Read more... )

What time are we upon and where do I belong?

i've cast deeper shadows than this,
longer & leaner
as they muscled in the sun
and moved like echos behind me,
like children
begging to be invited along,
inching behind
in quiet need
of recognition.

that strange, curling urge has hit me,
the need
to excavate,
to dig my fingernails hard
into the soil I've laid
for my wispy roots to stretch.

i've regressed ( Read more... )

I miss my brothers,
I hunger,
rapturously
for their nearness-
the silky skin-fabric
& muscle-lattice 
embrace
of their guardian
blood-love
anchored deep
& unyeilding
within me
when they
are close-by.

I, myself,
am one of the sisters
instead,
always companioned with
the sinewy emotion
of their woman lives
(though two of the three
are more like men
than most ( Read more... )

you don't know how lucky you are
you don't know how much i adore you.

you are the dream, handsome.

was it just last fall that we came tumbling into one anothers arms and dove head first into the mud puddle of love's sucker punch bliss?

yes.

love love love.