When ivy is better off as a head wrap
and the silos scream an echo of potholders worn out;
Lying on the deck, protruding more than I ever thought
the shapes on the wall could muster,
My headache begins as always
just a spot on the carpet
just a tattoo on her underarm
(Maybe you can learn to like the rain)
Maybe the ride will be less.
The fetid harmony that
plays on and on to the spotted animal I call my brain;
and the monument to porcelain and ex-lax underscores the curse.
The pointing fingers are once again smiling and touching
the lie that used to be the truth.
(I never meant for this to happen)
The epidemic that happens to be my infectious emotions.
and I saunter on my belly to the phone………..
but I can't seem to remember the number…….
--------------------------------------------------------


Dreamed…..
I can't write without my tea cozy………….
She says "Lay down."

Strumming my pendulum under the lamp light, how easily I tinker with my own parts.
She says, "Whisper in your sleep so as not to wake yourself………."
I say there's a lot to be said for Valium.
I looked up in time to see the knife
A beautiful glint of steel reflected her honey hair.
And just before my departure I said "I love you"
out loud…..
She said "I love you, too.
--------------------------------------------------------

House like a womb……
Lately you’re in my mind…..

as a tempered, forged steel poker
penetrating the water.
These things I have said before,
things that are apparent about me
by the way my hands move through
the edge of your breathing,
scraping like air through a scream.

Your smugness,
your topsy-turgidness
your world, your mountain
I climb like so many bad novels I have incinerated.
But here happily, I offer my hand in motion
torn between the dance and the after hours,
the clock and the mantle piece…..
I drift through and fro in search of your eyes
or perhaps your inner sanctimonium.
I looked around and called you "mother"
and I died deliriously in my womb.
----------------------------------------------------------


how ominous the departure of the wind

i think i can stand one more shock
i looked in her articles and found a foul
"how can anyone wear these?"
but now i was looking at her articles
and how easily she turned to leave us
buying a quart of Blue Nun
now she is as black as the hassock turned over
dirty underneath i found it hidden
like the light never went there
when it is windy no one can hide a thing.

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