splintered stage

we pantomime the roles we are destined to play
iterations of our selves powdered with granules of age
we struggle to sparkle on each splintered stage
box the translucent director about the ears
we sob if swollen roses aren’t tossed at our aching feet
these theatrical lives we dress and primp for
our practiced actions and exaggerated thoughts
fill the numbered rows
passersby note the sheer breeze on perfectly presentable days
how grand the marquee introduces us 
until the night inevitably falls
a lingering effect of banner reviews
the shade pulls away the sun
among the threadbare seats

highlights are broken down
gels stop proffering hazy moon glow

the distressed set has sunk well below the orchestra pit
as we strip costumes and scrub away masks
in our disposable dressing rooms
a crystal decanter smiles and
in its bottomless grandeur we

search for that little drop of poison
to ease hellacious day into callous night
where no lights warm obsidian air
or hollow stories clap clogged memories
still the flashing sign stage left reminds us
we must soon exit

Flapping

Flapping

 

drinking alone

I suck my drink down
all the way to the bottom
just like my life
all the way to the bottom
the fractured chips
how beautiful they shine
way up there in aroma heaven
my dark crimson ‘lipstuck’
always looks prettier on the rim
after the glass has been emptied
when staring up isn’t so painful

Upright nude trio/charcoal

charcoal nudes done way, way back in high school
this was an experiment – from the writing aspect, not the drinking;)

pushing

mooseman fullhow much can I push my
words
into your head
they need to push hard
there is so much I need to cram in there
inside you
I want to fill you
with my words
my thoughts
my images
of places I want to take you
and things we can do
you and I
so open your head wide
because I’m quite strong
and I can push
really hard

 

no curtain call

we weren’t destined to meet
a black bottle, a few flowery touches and
cold cubes that mimicked hot dice
rolled a bet with just enough scratch
for a room with bad lighting
our frantic hands
stripped away more than labels
our hungry mouths
fashioned words on stained cotton
our entwined legs
beat on dark motel velvet
but a new day’s integrity

revealed our imperfect forms
stale breath buried any lingering hopes  

you were in it for the quick sale
I was in it for the everlasting bargain
we were at best
a performance piece
with no curtain call

swirl skating

swirl skating

of something more

this has to be something more than the dish
serving the meat my mother so tenderly cooked for us
after being on her feet all day
something more than my dad telling us his ice truck story
and how he began work at seven when he believed Staten Island was Italy
this has to be something more than my daughter
not yet realizing just how beautiful she is
or my son who embodies the compassion of a soul lived
much older than his fifteen years
or a husband who supports my artistic demons
this has to be something more than collecting these memories
like paperclips in a box and storing them
this has to be something more than an appreciation
of life
this has to be love and living each moment
of that expression

Max and Caroline

Max and Caroline

I hope you all had a wondrous weekend

faith and a full cup

I believe in quiet miracles of love
selflessness of the human heart
the breadth of compassion
the faith of Heaven above
tucked in floating clouds
and the people below
colors of rainbows
both on this side
and the other
I believe
one day
we will

fully realize
our humanity
and peace
will settle
across the land

duck apple
“…Faith is believing in something when commonsense tells you not to…”
–from the movie, Miracle on 34th Street

To those who celebrate, Happy Easter
To those who don’t, have a lovely weekend

art titled, “Friends” – created at nine years of age, when I had much shorter hair and much longer sleeps 😉

tomorrow…

Sad Eyes/Prisma

I ache for something
what could it possibly be
I have so much
but I ache
still
there in my soul
a pinch
reaches out for my heart
straight up to the brain
then
out it spills
landing
here
the ache
it’s still there
in here

these words didn’t do it either
guess I’ll have to try again
tomorrow…

 

when you think

when you think on those moments
you and I
me and you
us
our bodies making one shape
our minds explosive in love
bedroom curtains sailing
sheets leaping overboard

my long lashes caressing your chest
your fingers playing maestro on my neck
when you think on these vignettes

think of what I needed that you didn’t give
and when your lonely heart wants company
talk to your fingers

rat pack dream

rat pack dream