to birth

Oh man to the feeling of
a baby coming out of you
while you crunch on a honeycrisp apple smothered in peanut butter and wonder
if you will be angrier this time.
Will your partner laugh as you squeal
operatic tones cascading from
what is only the pain of life,
while the clown nurse with blue eye shadow
and ruby red lips asks again if
I want to see the human head
stretching out the final ounce
of virginity I have left
from between my shuttering legs?
Will the little blue and red body
laid upon my breast be mine this time
or will he be stolen for half a day
and pricked and prodded and given artificial
air and bath and food and love
from women who didn’t
writhe and vomit and cry him into existence?
Oh man to the feeling
of a baby coming out of you
and onto this bright and damned earth.


i am
as faint as a heartbeart
a back drop
the seam binding your fabric
an underground root
as ephemeral as god
i am as necessary
as the air you breathe
as water to trees
as organic to bees
but only when i am finally gone


always how would it feel to go on without yous
trimming delicately the worth of self like caspari
or doilies tapering grace on slender night stands. 

the japanese beetles,
black widows surround your faith,
the opossums suck the stomach and eat your brain,
life goes on. 

all that is done is done. 
the sun. 

Til Death Do us Part

I used to be beautiful
before marriage loosened
and wrinkled my face  
like old leather,
scratched & dented with wear,
torn open by new life
And sewn back up again to tear. 

I used to be happy before 
The anger seeped deeply into
My heart, caging my soul
and the freedom to fly
sculpting my face with a sneer
that will show after I die. 

I used to laugh and imagine 
my life ever increasing,
With a hand to always hold
On a porch I’d be rocking
and singing.

I used to believe in great spirits,
paint the divine in royal colors,
I would blast music from dawn til dusk
and breathe gratitude.

I used to wear my spirit confident,
reading and writing, delighted
by a warm cup warming my hands.

I used to adventure down winding roads
to widened water bodies for silence.

I used to love. 


Ancient forests moan, roots
I scream softly
your name a thousand times, still
begging you to hear me.

Aches of I never should have left
your magnetic magnitude
of giving to the homeless,
our silent walks through trashy 
SanFran streets,
the blurry surroundings,
my immediate warmth to you.

I miss you daily,
the mandalas drawn in plea for
understanding why God begets pain,
how love will set me free
I do believe, and nothing.

A wall and chains of choices keep 
my body bound, my spirit residing
with infinite alms outside of your temple. 


The mechanical is
all I can handle when
thinking on your love. 
Like scars across 
a moonlit sky
carved by travelers 
passing by
unbeknownst to 
my looking on.
My gut hangs on 
the ledge of sewage,
my tears a melodious haunt, 
my name an interrogative ending.


Cotton stomach,
swallow & quiet.
Bones ache to tremble,
cry to sleep
that heavy of rising
or want to sink.

Strings of arachnid ghosts,
peripheral shadows
of flying swell to stings,
paranoid flailings.

My world quakes at the drop of a tear,
a frown the size of God.
Each step shatters a kingdom.
A life for a life.


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