As soon as I could form a letter it was all over. I was hooked. I wrote in short colorful sentences and made my teachers crazy. I had this idea that words could be tasty, smelly, touchable…real. It was art to me and I, much like a painter or musician, could not help but let my muse run wild. I love the adventure, the scenery, the feel of release when the poem comes to be. Its who I am, who I want to be. My poems are the heart and soul of a story of where I have been, where I am going, what I have seen and what makes me feel human.

This is the journey. Come with me.

Conjuring the Muse

Just breathe on me,

set me on fire again, burn my tongue

with quill and ink, spread paper

all over my skin and just breathe…

breathe on me.

2-25-07

Robert Browning Stole My Heart

These are the pages I turned in my youth,

ten cent used text, abandoned on a bookshelf

with dog eared romance paperbacks for company.

Touching your spine and gently

opening your soul, the crispness of textile skin

under my barely aged fingertips.

This was my first glimpse of heaven.

How I held you, long winter nights

we shared by a single bedside lamp.

Your yellowed words and ancient speech

gave me comfort in my peculiar ness.

You showed me beauty, love, pain and fear.

I saw loss and passion mingled with imagination,

such a wordsmith in my ear, on my lips!

You were my first love, absorbing and cherished.

Even after all these years I still return to you

many loves later, to touch your tender spine

and open up your soul.

11-18-06

Memoires

I am an open book,

but I have erased a few pages.

Some were torn out in a rage,

others fell to dust from over exposure.

Still others are smeared from salty tears

and stained with my own blood.

But, yes, I am an open book,

but so many of the pages are

unreadable.

8-7-06

Rusted

I lost my sexy swing

in the back break of ‘92.

Pushing children into a brand new world

crushed what swagger I had.

Lumbar limbo is my new dance,

a herniated hustle

has replaced that fluid motion of my sex.

No longer female,

I clop about like some stuck robot,

the tin man rusted in the woods.

Take my ovaries, cut out my uterus.

Makes no difference now.

What little female sonata I once had

now lies in C flat along my spine.

7-1-06

Thesaurus

I was looking for a word,

luscious didn’t cut it

and delicious is over used…

majestic didn’t apply and I…

well I

sat numbly holding a #2 graphite

wondering where all those lost words go…..

4-25-06

Dandylion

Dandylion, a soft golden flower

spreads her seeds far and wide,

and if you pause, you can feel the power

of secret wisdom come to life.

For though she’s not a pampered rose

or cultivated for her grace,

she lacks the bitterness of thorns

and heralds the Suns most brilliant face.

Before you call her fate a weed

remember she has wishing power.

For children dance and praise her gifts,

alas a simple yellow flower.

2-05-06