Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Rot (or Wrought)

Bowing over flowers like bad news,

an empty coat prays for spring by

brushing against a blue, cashmere cardigan.

Passion-soaked walls listen for twilight to settle

like dust on a bonnet, eagerly waiting for the passage of time.

Death lives here and invites Sadness to step inside

with its bloody teeth.

Sensation is foreign after being numb so long

the deafening silence is a shrieking tea kettle

folding in on itself.

Numbness is a comforting quicksand gagging on velvet.

Shame is a battery-operated timer with

the perpetual motion of an unsteady gyroscope

drowning in emptiness like bubble wrap pushing in.

The atheist, in love with futility, meditates

over sweet bile-smelling incense.

Acidic soil makes hydrangeas blue

like the cloying promise of a fad diet.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Mourning Coat

Black in mourning
Your coat thrown
Over the freshly

Vibrant, beautiful.
Your mood covers mine
Like the coat you threw
Over the the recently

Screaming at you.
Get over yourself and
Throwing your
Mourning coat
Over my newly

Thursday, June 18, 2009


Who would wear a black coat to a courting?
To express their true nature, while under
the guise of flowers? The colors so
beautiful to augment the drab reality of
their bitter demeanor.

Isn't this coat and hat so sporting?
How could she resist my charms and
my gloating? The blues and reds of the
bouqet this day are the sky and my heart
which is where it is floating!

I brought you these flowers to ease
the pain. The passing of a loved one can
leave you insane. A black dress would suit
this sad occasion. I wonder if this bus goes
to Union station?

Wednesday, June 17, 2009


Heavyness pulls me down
The gravity an unwilling opponant
with it I fall to the blackened ground
where the purples and pinks compound

With hat upon my head I try to look around
to see where I've been
and when I will be found

I see flowers of blue, pink and purple
colors that when gazed upon astound
I'm getting comfortable in this weighted black coat
And intend to rest right here on this orange ground.

Purple N Pink

Black hats hung up for the last time
Our group coming to an end
For I am the last to remain
Laid to rest with purple and blue flowers
All in black, they watch
My heart beats faintly as life is reminisced
The good and bad times enticed us throughout
Satisfied and completed
It’s time to end
I hang up my black hat
For it is time to lay me down with pink and navy flowers


White face black hands,Tick.
Tock. Spinning, swirling, down,
ground, hot, burning, flames,Tock.
No, fly, higher, sky, white, peace,
please, fight, struggle, need, farther,Tick.
Going, going. Tock. Breath, deep, dig, in, must. Tick.
Almost, bright, light, see, soon, battle won,Tock.
Dark, fade, loom, no more,amens made, soul,yours, never.
Mine, survive, today,tommorrow, give in, again,never.
Tick, tock.
What the hell is that noise?
Babe, hit the snooze, just one more time.
Man, I had this aweful dream...
I'll tell you about it later, if Iremember.
...There was a clock... I was fighting... flying...


pink carnations
a wave of scent
swirling down
playing with toys in the hot sun
splish splash
rain on water
warm rays toasting
shiny silver plastic
flame licked handle
cool Michigan ice
fuzzy terry cloth of pink, orange, and white
four white cinder block walls
ringing black
jingling bronze coins
Consent is Sexy
shiny round silver sticker

Just for Thrills

Nothing like having a black mind.
Coldness and darkness are intertwined
and the absence stimulates the active soul.
All aspects that appear to bind you
end up being the source of your weakness.
Free from arrogant laws and hypocrisy
is where I find my immense strength.
I would gladly kill for just the thrill
of hearing your scream.
In my hostile bed I lay and dream
of moments that reflect mortal beings.
My massacre garments lay for me waiting
to dress myself and act as I have been stating.
You think you are safe behind this worlds doors, but
through the crack comes the real horrors.
I will reach your soul as it had never been,
with cold steel to your red heart is how I will win.

The Raven

The raven black as night,
Squawks his promise of nevermore.
A love burning bright,
Flowers for his great Lenore.

The black graveyard born to life,
Ghosts of days past take flight.
Memories cut the heart like a knife,
Lenore bleeds in the dull moonlight.

The raven cloaked in coat and hat,
Brings flowers to the graveyard door.
Then upon the tombstone sat,
The black bird carved above “Lenore.”

Stormy Night

Black rain on a stormy night
falls from the moonlit sky
thunder rumbles from
the pit of his stomach as
lightning passes by.

Overhead, neon signs glisten
red, orange, and pink
enticing him to listen to
the footsteps following him in sinc.

Be it man or woman
he does not care
follow me in
if you dare

With a shake of his coat
rain falls to the floor
as he takes a seat
close to the door

Throw some eggs in that
black iron skillet
coffee with cream to the rim
you can fill it.


A blue black hand and a hole in the wall

But I’ve got my cigarettes.

Tucked behind

My ear a parcel of death waiting

For us to join in on the fun.

Your face is the reflection

I hate the most.

Contemplating, waiting

To be fucked

By things unseen. I need a new pack.

Glass shatters with the slam of a door

A toast

To the nature of the beast.

I’m leaving

You behind now

But I’ve got my cigarettes.

Pride, Death, and Guilt

She lies there amongst
the wet
dirt and yellow grass

Beneath the willow tree
the branches dance.
No music to hear,
only rhythm of the
breeze from the
flapping of their wings.

On bended knee he kneals
"NO MORE", he yells.
Day to day I dread
the falling of their heads.
Trench upon trench their
bodies stacked, like
flapjacks, endless till
ones content.

Here, I Brought You Some Flowers... And Now I'm Leaving.

I'm watching the red sun go down
this is my last goodbye.
there will be no tomorrow for me
I won't make it through the night
Say goodbye to all my friends
and tell my mother not to cry
Sadness won't change anything
so wipe those tears from your eyes
I'm sorry that I hurt you
when I left our happy home
I promised you that I would return
but who could have known?
No one bothered to tell me
that it was my time to go
Most of all I'm sorry for
leaving you all alone.
I have watched my last sun down
and I've said my last good bye.
I shall never know tomorrow
for I won't make it through tonight.
I can hear them in the distance
heavy and black are the sounds of my demise
it shouldn't be too much longer now,
so I'll think of you one last time.

From the Oven's Point of View

Hat and jacket black as sin
stretch and yearn for the soft lilacs
O this is where the end must begin.
His whispers delight you
more after the gin
and tonic was his gentle touch.
Lather me up as if I were kin
while you wipe carrot stew
from the baby's chin.
Her body resembling
that of a pin
sterling, so sleek and slender
A prize I never shall win.

Darkness your soul reflects
black on the tin.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009


Bent over with a hunched back
With arms open, she accepts
his tenderness and love, overlooking the setbacks,

caused by rage and fury of heart,
oh how he felt sorrow upon his soul
realizing he cannot live apart

his love, beautiful as a soft purple flower,
she stands, smiles, and accepts his apology
waiting for this sweet hour

At last we reunite, love is in the air
Removing the heaviness of the black coat
from my soul, for we have become an everlasting pair

Until the end of times, no more will we depart,
we are now connected like the bones on our spine
I can truly say you are my sweetheart

Dinner Date

A jewel of a fruit smashed on a black tire
A tower of biscuits fall into the fire
Take a load off your mind
Give my jacket to the man over there
Wipe your feet at the door and jump higher
With technology on the menu
Fully mature, serve now, turn off the light
Candle wax dripping on the piano keys
A bouquet of shoestrings tied with scarlet ribbon
Visions of sugar plums dance in our minds
Flavor second to none and a glass of wine
The smell of leather gives me the chills
Sugar and spice and everything covered with flies
Open the door and call to the moon
Balancing life and passion with blueberry pie


My crimson lips
are safe to touch
hiding in the glow
it is just too much

your flowers you gave
I held too tight
hoping the pieces
would make it all right

the silence is deafening
shrieking in my ear
my courage tucked away
but always kept near

Your raging thought
I do not condone
sink my teeth into
the red delicious unknown.

No one will know

Blue and black is my head,
no I did not use the color red.
Don’t throw that purple lilac down,
the most gorgeous flower can be found.
Why can’t they just let her be,
all she yearns for is to be free.
Mistakes were made and now she is bound,
to a place of Hell not underground.
A place of hell right here on earth,
no one will know of his birth.
The undersized boy turns to smile,
as his pale face is slammed into a pile.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Heavy Black Coat with Hyacinths

Dear bloggers ~

Last one! And here we are with a creepy Francis Bacon painting, picked out 'specially for you. This painting falls into that tradition, too, of "Stop Making Sense" from Addonizio and Laux's book, and so that is what I'm going to ask you to try to do in this poem.

Your first job, of course, is to stare at this painting as long as you can bear it, and make notes about whatever you see, imagine, think, feel, etc. You can find a larger image of it if you click the link at the bottom of this posting. Then you will create a poem based on your notes and reflections and meditations and images and memories and what all else from this painting.

And of course there are rules for this poem (you were expecting pure freedom? Silly you).

1. The poem must be 10-25 lines long.

2. The poem must work with repetition in sound.

3. The poem must begin and end on an image. These images must contain a color, and they must be in some way related to each other (though you can interpret that as narrowly or as loosely as you like). For example, "The broken naked leg ends at the blue toenails" for your first line might be related to "the hunched spine, purple with waiting," because both contain parts of the body and similar colors. Go with your instincts here as far as how images are related.

4. The poem must make an effort to abandon logic. Rather than following the logical steps of a story ("boy meets girl, boy loves girl, depressed boy brings flowers") try to follow another path through the poem. For example, follow the sounds you like ("boy meets girl, toy flag unfurls, red hair starts to curl") and see where the poem takes you. Or, follow a color and leap with that ("boy meets red-haired girl, boy lights red sulfur match, boy becomes arsonist, burns down red barn"). See? So much more entertaining.

Go forth and write your poems!

Your poems are due on Wednesday, June 17 by 6:00 p.m.

Blog responders: Your job, after the poems are posted on the blog on Wednesday, is to select two of them to which you will respond. Your response (in the comment section) should tell the poet what you find striking/interesting/strong in the poem, and it should offer the poet some suggestions about where the poem might go from here, what you would like to see more of, what strikes you as needing more development.

You MUST comment on the way that lines and line breaks work in the poem, and/or on the images and metaphors in the poem, and/or how the poet has worked to abandon logic -- or on ways that the poet might work with these things more effectively -- since we have studied these things recently. These responses should be at least a good paragraph. Your comments on TWO poems are due on Monday, June 22 before 6:00 p.m.

(Image from National Galleries of Scotland website).

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Purple Cactus

Margaret was sick of deflecting

the expectations of her cohorts. Mall crowds were

clouds of pestering mosquitoes, “me, me, Me, Me,”

to her ear. She decided that all her failures were due

to the piedmont. Margaret cut ties with her non-friends,

all of them, that’s what they are

and sold her anchors. She disguised herself with

the name Avatar, and transplanted herself

to the land of big sky where clouds are

band-aids and people are


Now, Avatar pretends to be carefree

liking the young bohemians, drinking

in the culture of this new, ancient breed. Her True People. The façade

of tribal colors screams

her false solemnity.

Eureka! The same people. Anywhere

Avatar goes, complaint is her happiness. Even now,

Avatar lives in the same theatrical town on the opposite

coast, where she can drink her soy-milk latte and point

with her etiquette finger at the people

she dislikes, wearing the royal foam. Yea, though

Margaret is content, the purple cactus queen!

Monday, June 8, 2009

When You Return

I am alone
You are gone. I'm lying
in my gray, lonely room
When you return.

Time grows
Like a vine out of control.
Tearing through the emptiness
in my soul.
When you return.

I hear you approach.
Slowly, softly
the anticipation spills all around me
Like the brown desert sand.
You engulf me
When you return.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Death to Life

In the rocky desert its always cold.
Barren of life and
Beauty, until she comes.

The brow upon her face is bold.
A scornful look, as she
murders the desolation.

From her body the signs of life unfold.
Her bosom the catalyst for
change, slaying the emptiness.

The story of her magnificence is told.
Her love for thee eternal, she
is the mother of us all.

Her gift to us more valuable than gold.
The black hole of death replaced
by a white dove of peace.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

With a reason, and a baseball bat, I will...

Cold, left for dead,
lying in a ditch
I watched her body
there as it twitched
All I wanted to do
was to scare________
Shit got out of control I swear!
She should have seen
how this affected me
My friends all think that
I have gone crazy
But not for long
It’s been too long
My mind is lost
out into the sea
Orange and green boats are sinking
and that’s okay with me
The sharks come closer
She’s coming over...

Wednesday, June 3, 2009


Not really there. It may look
as though there is some to be seen, but there is
nothing. This scene is as empty as the pockets of
nomadics. The people are devoid of any substance. The
nitrogen seeking vegetation grows through them. For
no one can See. There eyes are open but their minds
are closed. Seeing has more depth than the shallow pool to toss
nickels into. People have the
need to see and be seen as more than obvious. There's more than
nails painted black to match the color of death. People are in dire
need to gain some substance. Fill there lives with appreciation
that everyday there is something to do and to learn. There's more
than the "OMG! There's a huge gold sale at Macy's! G2G Girls!"
In this raucous sphere I
find no boundary.
Where I end and we begin is a mystery to

It is only in letting go that arbitary
definition of you, me, us,
that the the essence of human being (not human Doing)
is delineated, set apart from

This world where what we are is
What we can name, label.
Free here of any feature which is
familiar, comforting, I am fearless, unbound.

Join me in this cacophonous vision:
Remove the 3-D glasses of 21st century
technicolor widescreen reality.
Let me see the whirling atoms inside

Your ill-conceived matter that
We may know without speech or text
The other. Long denied, now released to breathe the
Fresh light of day

Come to Me

Come to me,
Travelers from far and wide.
Here I have been for an eternity.

Come to me,
My patience is wearing.
See the ivy around me growing
The weight greater and
See how time has cast
This bitter spell on me.

Thick impatient green
Holds me back from you,
Thou who have put me here like
Rapunzel in her high tower.

See that bluebird fly
So far away?
Free me from thy prison and
Make my soul sing that
Peach coloured song.

The Crush

Buried in love growing
Nourishment the liquid of tears
The green sprout my grave marker
Shrouded in a cloak of mist

Nourishment the liquid of tears
Desire the monument of love
Shrouded in a cloak of mist
My secret passion planted

Desire the monument of love
A tree to my veiled heart
My secret passion planted
Lost in the ground forever

Buried in love growing
A tree to my veiled heart
Lost in the ground forever
The green sprout my grave marker

Trapped in a dream

Time passing slowly,
as I head toward that castle in the sky,
no, not heaven, but a home
belonging to no one, only there to remind me this is a dream

It is down below where Mother Nature lies
holding on to the land as though it were her child
she looks at me with tears of sorrow and though I cannot hear her cries
I know she fears this land will die

As feelings of anger and sadness are
bursting from my soul
I want to help and yet do not know how

It is then the rain begins to pour and
the land begins to quake, then with smile
As though to say “do not worry it will soon be over”

I feel my foundation start to shake,
through the earth’s mouth is my depart

and just before I hit the bottom,
I have awaken
to see my wonderful orange teddy bear’s smile
I am no longer trapped in a dream

A Siren's Soul

A john walks in shame.

A single name whispers from her mouth.

Into a darkened

Room desire strikes a match

With the flame

Now lit every inch of his tentacles

Wrapped around her

His weight crushing

Down she screams

A john walks in shame.

With maudlin eyes, a pain filled heart

Her white dove of peace walks in.

She whispers his name.

Dying for Love

Beneath your breast is the love I choose,
This feeling is pure and I could never lose
The image of you resting against you hand
With an emotional piercing stare that penetrates my heart

This feeling is pure and I could never lose
For in the afterlife is where we will cruise
With an emotional piercing stare that penetrates my heart
My steps become lighter as reach the top

I pray to the gods to show me mercy
Because the wrong I have done was due to my love
For you and me our time is up,
Our enchanted ride together is unraveling fast

Because the wrong I have done was due to my love
The ending will come with the snap of a noose
Our enchanted ride together is unraveling fast
Due to the floor beneath me that would not last

When your time comes I’ll be there
To bring you to heaven where we will continue
Our growing love amongst the stars
Free from the fear of those with black hearts

Desert Oasis

Weeping crimson veins caress
my outer being
seeping into the cracks
I become hollow

my soul, once an oasis
now a desert
seek shelter, for nothing
can survive

reap the entangled
web of deceit
expose my barren despair
creeping along the bedrock

encompassed in a black fog
I become hollow.

A Will of No More

Pulling me under, all hope lost, yet life blooms through me,
no thoughts exist in my mind, but to plunder to where the earth worms play,
pain ceased, joy long gone,empty,hollow,
leave me be.

Burnt to the deepest black, is the place were longing and loving once found it's home,spearing through, life struggles, like spring blossoms fighting a wicked battle through a thick blanket of white.They may survive, but count me out, tis' not a ritual I seek,pulling me under, all hope lost, yet life blooms through me.

Pulling me under, all hope lost, yet life blooms through me,
no choice of mine, dark I plead to envelop me, like a beached shell engulfed into a murderous rip tide, take my carcass, I've already given it over,without a moments thought, an empty case I am, stop this will, tis' not my own.

The lights will go out, even if you beg to differ, no life lives here,
yank out by the roots is what I will do as simply as a weed sprung up were not invited among a fragrant sea of blooms, I am not your sea, you are but a weed, now gone. At last,pulling me under, all hope lost, yet life blooms through me no more as I watch the iridescent black vultures circle and feel my shell sink into my want.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Life surrounds us

Life surrounds us, from every corner
As we lay here unknowing
We give our hearts and souls
To free our minds from entanglement

As we lay here unknowing
A path is found
To free our minds from entanglement
Our carelessness can devour

A path is found
Thankful now, we all shall be
Our carelessness can devour
Like glowing orange lava sounds Vulcan’s fury

Life surrounds us, from every corner
Thankful now, we all shall be
Like glowing orange lava sounds Vulcan’s fury
We give our hearts and souls

Sitting within, my heart grows

Sitting within, my heart grows,
With tenderness and care,
On mother earth, free from all crows,
Aloof from sadness and despair.

With tenderness and care,
I’m free of all sorrow,
Aloof from sadness and despair,
With age, that time will borrow.

I’m free of all sorrow,
Happy that wisdom is growing
With age, that time will borrow.
Feeling like an orange sunrise slowly ascending, I’m proudly maturing.

Happy that wisdom is growing,
On mother earth, free from all crows,
Feeling like an orange sunrise slowly ascending, I’m proudly maturing.

Sitting within, my heart grows.


That which stems from my heart awaits
ready to entangle and intertwine
confound I will, your vulnerable soul
my passion the venom of desire

Ready to entangle and intertwine
'tis appetite you now satisfy
my passion the venom of desire
longing you, my victim

'Tis appetite you now satisfy
your love now mine for eternity
longing you, my victim
no furthermore

Your pith now black from my corruption
confound I will, your vulnerable soul
as a demon from the fiery hells
that which stems from my heart awaits

A Mother's Purpose

Nature's Mother, breath of life
upon His shoulders Rejoice!

Tucked away for safe keeping,
growing and changing.
Hidden inside till the day He arrives, for the
day draws near His star will appear
as a beacon of light for the wise to see

The narrow path with great challenge
Paved with good intentions
Glory be Your name the seed is sown.

With Grace and Might a Deliverer
and Teacher is born.

Why did I leave

You left my heart exposed to the damage you have done
Your eye’s cold as you stare into mine
The skies turn dark and red

Im left hurting the next one to be
I search for my soul you have expunged
The thunder loud in my chest as I sit and try to cry
Trying to feel something, anything to make sure my heart still stands
But I feel nothing, how can that be when my inside’s are on the rise

Nothing is as it seems
I see you different with the next
All too clear, your true self exposed
Like a scene in a play you portray so well

You underestimate me
I too can play cat and mouse
I’ll be the black cat
Can’t you see the revenge growing in my hazel eyes

I'll Wait For You

I'll wait for you
with an open heart
without shame
my love pours out

With an open heart
blame not thee
my love pours out
like needed rain on the leaves of a tree

Blame not thee
for my hearts desire
like needed rain on the leaves of a tree
only you can put out this forest fire
burning inside of me

Vein of a feather I can not see
without shame
I await the day white birds fly you home to me
I'll wait for you

The Orange Dress, the Green Vines

Hello, there, bloggers!

Here we have a modern and autobiographical twist on mythology -- a mythology of the self, sort of. There's still lots of drama and imagination here, though this seems a bit quieter, with fewer swords and snakebites and so forth.

Your job, as per usual, is to stare and stare at this painting -- you can find a larger image of it if you click the link at the bottom of this posting -- to soak in it, to absorb it, to let it absorb you. Then you will create a poem based on your notes and reflections and meditations and images and memories and what all else from this painting.

Also as per usual, there are some rules for this poem:

1. The poem must be between 12 and 20 lines long, and some of those lines should be enjambed rather than end-stopped. (Here's one of those fun chances to try, say, a sonnet or a pantoum, to let the form guide what you write, too).

2. The poem must work with repetition in sound. Thus, at least one of the sounds from the first line (long o, short a, s, k, whatever) must repeat at least five more times in the subsequent lines. (Hint: this will be made much easier if you choose a sound that you feel reflects the mood of the poem or the mood you found in the painting).

3. The poem must end on an image, and this image must include one of the colors from the painting, but it must not include one of the objects in the painting. (Thus, "yellow bird" works well, as there is yellow in the painting, but no bird. "Orange dress," however, does not work, because there is a dress in the painting.)

4. The poem must also play with levels of diction; thus, some lines can be "elevated" (i.e., "I shall meet thee under night's wing" -- which is pretty bad, actually, so don't use that) and other lines can be "earthy" (i.e. "Meet me in the alley with a broken bottle in your hand" -- which is also pretty bad, on many levels). So, see what effects you can create by varying the elegance or grittiness of your language.

Go forth and write your poems!

Your poems are due on Wednesday, June 3, before class at 6:00 p.m.

Blog responders: Your job, after the poems are posted on the blog on Wednesday, is to select two of them to which you will respond. Your response (in the comment section) should tell the poet what you find striking/interesting/strong in the poem, and it should offer the poet some suggestions about where the poem might go from here, what you would like to see more of, what strikes you as needing more development.

You MUST comment on the way that lines and line breaks work in the poem, and/or on the images and metaphors in the poem -- or on ways that the poet might work with these things more effectively -- since we have studied these things recently. These responses should be at least a good paragraph. Your comments on TWO poems are due before 6:00 p.m. on Monday, June 8.

(Image from Mark Harden's Artchive)

Friday, May 22, 2009

The Train

Black tie noose encircles me, keeping me yet farther from you.
The cool air arrives like a horse, rushing,
Galloping, the night surrounds us.
But the heat beneath my canvas cage,
Removes the frost from the night air.
My heart bellows, yearning for what cannot,
Should not be.
I hold you, our bodies melting together in the shadows,
But I still I am alone.

The blood red wall behind reflects my agony.
On this long train of suffocating silence,
My heart is the last car, the boxcar,
The last hope.
And the train speeds off into the night.

Come Away

Run, Run away
with me tonight.

Quickly, now before they
notice we are missing.

We'll ride our horses
like a boxcar out of hell.

Waiting, longing
Is this a dream? I might fear.
For do not wake me for the end is not in sight.

Red with Passion;
Our bodies intertwine
as we bellow out through the night.

Feel on your back the frost from the ground.
A satisfying mixture of sin and pleasure.

The Affair

A man, A woman, between them a red hot desire charging through their bodies like wild horses through an open field.
The chemistry between them bellows over like an erupting volcano.
They want to be together if only for this one night, alone in an abandoned boxcar
contemplating, should we indulge in our desire for each other?
This is a forbidden passion and therefore we are shielded from one another.
Shielded buy the cloth surrounding our lips, forbidding us to make contact and explode the passion we hold inside.
Passion so strong coursing through every nerve of our bodies like frost blanketing every object in its path.
The desire is bigger than both of us, the shield is strong.
Can it protect those we married and had a family with?
Only the man and the woman will know the deciding fate.
That is, until the affair becomes unshielded and the cloth has disintergrated.

A Prickly Secret

Penned in a boxcar, wanting to run, I am a horse ready to ride.
The door opens, but this is the wrong master.
I cannot run from this secret tether.

I know these hands, but tonight they are coarse, like burlap,
Prodding at the blanket ... why does he do that?
Wrinkles hide the darkest shadows.

He looks at me with eyes that don't belong to me.
I want to see what shouldn't be happening.
He shrouds his intent.

A tongue pushes against my teeth, searching.
This new fire makes my bedroom air feel like needles in frost,
Like a prickly secret.

A pinch, and the dull relief shows the pain was pleasure.
Startled, red eyes tear up with confusion.
"Let's not tell Mom."

I am a bad girl ... I am a soon woman,
My mind bellows when my mouth won't speak.
Is there any difference?


I can tell you are wearing that red dress
The one from the first time we met
When the frost was upon the windows
As we travelled our separate ways
I yearned for you, longed for that touch, that smell, that feeling

Until now, here in the warmth of this boxcar
Away from the hustle and bustle of life
Shhh...don't be frightened, we are alone
Like the cloth over us, they cannot see either
Stay close, hold tight, can you feel my heart
Racing like a horse to the finish line

The silence now is our comfort
The guilt will be gone in moments
As the bellow of night night breaks into day and our time comes to end
We go away now, until again the passion overcomes us


Oh to be a horse.
Free from your grasp.
Running from your stables.

Oh to be that flower
Popping through the frost covered ground.

I am screaming red.
Can you hear me through
My bellow?
Can you see me?
Do you want to?

Put me in that boxcar.
Send me far away.

Who are you?
Don’t you realize
How you’ve changed?

I don’t think I recognize your face anymore.

One Night

Darkness fulfills my desire
for your tender embrace
two lonely souls in the night
fate unites us as one

When the red sun rises
and your memory begins to fade
like the frost on the petals that shed in early spring
Will you remember me
my touch, my scent, my surrender

Did you leave quietly
or did you race off
like a wild horse in search of serenity

As the boxcar comes to hault
I see you through the window
embraced in her arms
Her gaze missing you, wanting you

Will you bellow out my name
when you're with her
or will guilt hide you from the truth
of that one night of passion and tenderness

Secret Passion

Is it wrong of us to feel such passion?
Disguising it as though to have shame.
It should be understood
That our affection exists.
Are we a threat to those who can see,
Like a frost to newly bloomed petals.
Why must we contain this passion
For others to feel more comfort.
Standing in your red dress
I imagine the fire burning within.
This passion should bellow out
That their shame is not ours.
Only in this room can we express our feelings,
Dark and cramped with the emotion between us.
Feeling like a horse in small boxcar,
Wanting to rise and open the doors.
To display this passion proudly
Beyond the boundaries of this room.
Will we ever be able to express this,
To be freed from the cloak of this room.
For it is a shame for a passion like this
To remain a secret from the world

I Wonder

I wonder what happened to them.
They wouldn’t have wanted us to be alone.
At least we found our red boxcar, to shelter us like they never did.
It gives us comfort to know that we can live together here.

Henry is off collecting water for me to cook with.
Pretty soon he will bellow that the bucket is too heavy for just him to carry.
He has a hard time admitting he can’t do things, but this is the one exception.
We’re lucky that he’s the oldest, and cares for us like the parents we never met.

Oh dear shy Violet is sitting near and staring off into the heavens.
She doesn’t seem part of this world, she’s more ethereal when she day dreams.
The breeze blows her blonde hair so that is sparkles like frost in the sunrise.
She keeps us all optimistic that life will only get better for us.

Wonderful little Benny is galloping toward Henry now like a horse.
He is always so happy and full of life, because he doesn’t understand what has happened.
He cannot fear because he’s still too young to ponder the possibilities of life for us.
Benny’s one task is to stay jolly and hopefully that joy will spread.

Me, I keep the family going, acting as Moms are supposed to, but I’m still a kid.
To me, saying “Jessie” is the same as saying “Mom” around here.
I don’t mind, but I wonder where they are.
Are they happy knowing we’re together, but we’re still all alone?

A Picture of Our Torn Up Praise

We embrace

The fire of your red heart beating

With the fervor of a thousand horses.

With hands held tightly,

Our grip begins to break.

So tender, so awkward,

Our lips inches to infinity.

The distance taking it’s tole,

A heart jaded by autumns morning frost.

A black tie, a red dress.

The hollowed out shells of what was once a man,

Once a women.

A photograph in my mind,

The only thing to remind me of what once was

Is now a boxcar turned sideways,

Destroyed, meaningless.

Jackson Pollock bellows,

His perfect picture returned,

All that’s left is the distance...

A picture of our torn up praise.

We're Not Strangers... for Tonight.

My how far we’ve come in such a short time!
From the frost of our initial meeting,
to this poorly painted hotel room where we hold each other now.
What a convincing aphrodisiac alcohol can be.
You don’t really know anything about me,
other than this mask I’ve put on for you.
I can only assume you’ve done just the same.
So what now… shall we take it slow and get to know one another?
No, no… there is no time, or desire for that matter, to horse around.
This night is strictly for business.
What will become of us tomorrow… will we paint the town red?
There’s about as much chance of that, as there is of rolling boxcars.
Will you bellow out my name in the morning when you realize I’ve gone…
…or will you even remember it?
You may not be the right one for me,
but you are the one for me right now.

House of Cards

Lie next to me
in a breathless sea of red frost
trapped in a boxcar of solitude
longing to bellow the words
neither want to hear

Can you rest your head gently
on your soft pillow
and have pleasant dreams of the sweet taste?

While I am numb
drained empty of my innocence
pain buried deep under memories
of hollow promises

Fingers crossed behind your back
candy coated lies
too wrapped up
in your make believe world
your house of cards ready to tumble

Thoughts seeking an escape
instead they are a lone horse
roaming through a field of desperation

Out of bed you climb
into the arms of another


A whispered word, a muffled promise, indistinguishable over the bellow of the hearts. The sound isn’t that of affection or the beat of recognition, for we are strangers. We were brought together in the frost of the morning to join as one before the eyes of God. A conspired union not of our choosing, an arrangement made.

Now here we stand, in a room where we will become less like strangers, our hidden identities begin to be revealed. I draw closer to you, hoping to know the man underneath. A storm of emotions crash through me; scared, hopeful, timid, excited. My adrenaline rushes, like the gymnast on a pommel horse, striving for the perfect outcome. At this moment, blazing through all the emotions and adrenaline, is a red hot desire to know you intimately.

But what of the future? Will you fulfill those muffled promises of happily ever after, or will we find ourselves dreaming of boxcars, hopping trains that take us far away from each other? Am I or can I be what you expect in me? Are you or will you become what I hope for in you? Do those who brought us together have the wisdom to have made a perfect match?

Can we become strangers no more?


Here we stand in our room of materialistic acceptance
The beautiful molding is a proclamation of our sophistication
Dressed for a joyous or sorrowful occasion
Embracing each other in the essence of coexistence
The walls that surround us is a testament to that very struggle
The feeling of warmth, as if a red sun were at our side at this very moment
As it desparately trys to shield us from the frost that is forming behind us
Where are we now? What are these walls that surround us?
Is this a cage that is keeping us in place as we try to endure
Or is it merely a boxcar, ferrying us to our final destination
Is there freedom in this place? Do we have a choice?
Maybe we are just horses racing to the finish line with blinders on
I can feel your warmth, yet I am not sure if this is your true nature
I am blind, but there is still room for you to enter, I am willing to invite
I only fear the emptiness that may remain once I am hollowed out
All I want is for you to speak truth, to tell me how you really feel
I try to let out a bellow of my true feelings for you
But I am restrained, this hood feels tight around my neck
As if it were a noose, and my next action could bring it bearing down upon me
Taking away my ability to breathe, to live, I am always cautious
And in being cautious, I will always be alone


With you I lack,
sense of smell,
sense of taste,
my sight.

Your heart like a boxcar,
sealed tightly.
You forced me in,
you suffocate me.

You coverd my ears,
so to not hear you bellow.
Why pretend to thirst for you,
you have no flavor with my mouth closed.

Like the late frost,
once it's spring.
The way it coats new crops,
you suffocate me.

I could never relate,
to the horses roaming wild.
I will never be as free,
as the red cardinal flying high.

With you,
I suffocate.


As we stand in celebration, you look so divine in the red dress.

I think of all the wonderful moments we had together.

The first thought comes to mind, you were sitting in the boxcar reading, as we were heading into the windy city…

I couldn’t help but look intently at your magnificence until the bellow of the train’s horn in the night’s frost startled you and our eyes became tangled.

It was at that instant we knew we would always be.

And now, is at this moment, celebrating 20 years of blissful marriage, I realize something dreadful.

I adore you and all that you are, or is it what I remember you as?

I don’t know you and you don’t know me, who we really are.

Do you even know my favorite color, or my favorite song? Come to think of it, I don’t know yours.

Many years we spent laughing, raising our children and yet we know nothing of who we are as individuals any longer.

Come closer and look into my eyes, I want to be your knight in shining armor, to ride in to rescue you on my white horse.

To be the man you once knew and to know the stunning woman standing in front of me once more.

Twenty years and now we are strangers, but I long to be strangers no more.

Thursday, May 21, 2009


Here within my thoughts I feel your passion
We only exist in love
This is the only way we can be within each others embrace
I want to rid this burning-hot red feeling of lust and passion; it has taken its toll
Days go by and I long to feel your comfort in my presence
Shatter this accumulated frost that has started to overtake my bitter heart
It does not remember how to beat with strength and energy
Thoughts and dreams of you are soothing as a boxcar travels its route
Our love is not sought through the eyes but our affection is vivid
Our meeting is obscure for now
Sorrow will soon follow when you have departed away from me
The delicate memories are diminishing with you as I try to hold on to them
We will escape the morals and rules placed on us and experience our desires
Like a horse crossing the finish line, we also, can succeed!
Bellow for me and we will live our dreams as the frost melts


I am alone, going from one stop to the other.
my soul aches for my soul mate?

I go through life shattered at the thought of a meaningful relationship, going from one man to the next not knowing if it'll ever be right. I see red reliving the past.
So many dreams gone.

trying to forget, never fully committing.

I watch as the world swirls past me.
My world so small, stuck in this tiny boxcar space, I need room, air to breath, my own space
or so I thought for so many years.

Walking by a café realizing, that once had been a dream of mine ripped apart. I stop and stare blankly at the man next to me, yearning to see deep into him.

I saunter past to get out of the cold. The frost on the door handle snaps my attention of where I am and I bellow from the shock realizing it’s his touch...what is that sensation inside me?

I turn slowly sensing his warmth

he speaks, his words so warm and inviting. I find myself braced in his arms, anticipating his first touch, the past haunting me, the unknown of what’s to come, scared by these thought running through my head. Why so fast?

trying to fight the awkwardness I have never felt before. I realize deep inside the wanting, the need to feel the way I always imagined it was to be, wanting to be swept up and rode off into the sunset on a white horse just like the fairytale I remember as a kid.