One hundred sets of words arranged in a variety of emotional settings I pause postpartum, confused Still pregnant with ideas and an inexplicable feeling of dread. Someone should rescue me, slay my dragons mindful not to spill my blood.I have spilled my words like living seeds To germinate or cure or to serve as omens Postpartum I am Crazy from loss Bewildered Bedeviled Wordless word loss Moonstruck.
Naked except for my nails and pearl earrings I lie before you I lie before you. Naked except for my lashes and nails, Pearl earrings I am still before you. Naked except for my thoughts The fine hairs on my body Nothing to disguise my desire My earrings They glisten in the lamp light I lie before you. My desire dissipates.
They say love is a tyrant and will stop at nothing because the heart must have its way. Yet, When dromedaries cross the desert their suitable feet turn the sands of eternal time where love abides, The warm sand sometimes cold, sometimes harsh, yet always soft for sleeping. Time is always the same in the desert of each heart, Spotted oases, teasing reality. Time that cannot be counted or measured, it doesn’t exist, Like the dromedaries, entrust their existence to…
The Bees came by my windows A swarm. I caught the last two lines of their anthem. Bitter is life without the ingredient A recipe for tears only They sang, their voices sharpened my window panes One Bee per person, One life to thrive in I am listening for a cue to come in falsetto bass, alto not Soprano, not prose, not winsome Faithful to the song of life. They buzzed a sound like ocean waves like terrible tornadoes Rumbling;…
Death is brown and brittle. He sleeps and puffs his hoary mist in Winter. Blanket upon blanket, lulled by warrior winds he seems dead for months Pinning us in submission A ploy To spread the brown of death across the lands and lakes They harden, another ploy. The Brown invites the Grey and Black Voices protest the horror When mighty limbs fall away and the living die Turn brown Grey machines count the dead Death is Brown and sits upon…
One pancake and a box of orange juice. Sultry waitress buttered with last night’s misery glowers Dares me to complain, then quipped, ‘One pancake?’ Her eyes stab me, “One pancake” I said Her snarl bruise my forehead sharply I was not quick enough I lower my gaze and wait for her to accept me and leave. The space fill up All kinds of men And then Over-sized female tromps through She takes every last condiment for her satisfaction I breathe…
Half-moon day spilling over into my view How awesome is nature as she raises her skirt to cause raging winds rebelling against spring Spring, Mysterious Spring with her promises of beauty The Lilies will come as she commands So will the lilacs and Daisies But more than anything else God Himself will appear when my prayers For you fall tenderly on His ears.
Like a disease they cling to me, the madness they create I am forced to write something down as they flow like a river, sometimes rushing, sometimes gentle, or sometimes painful and deliberate… Words hurt me, while thrilling me, they make me fat and giggly, they make me sad and broody. Words hold me hostage until I agree to set them down and empty my cache. They come back every time I thought they’d gone, words never leave me,…