first free drink of the night

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lovers and deaf dogs

excerpt and art from, love of the monster, eBook coming soon
I’ve been swapping some drawings in print version with paintings for eBook-
because glorious color costs the same as black and white in computer land😘

The Dipping Bread (new vamp flash)

just in time for Halloween
I’m honored to be included in Chicago Literati, with my flash piece, The Dipping Bread
I hope you enjoy reading, as much as I enjoy writing about vampires and their victims 😘

new love

you’ve made me sense the nearness of my years
and I don’t mind at all
possibilities are as rampant as raindrops on an April morning
I can see quite plainly how your smile is different
this is where I thought I might feel nervous
losing you to THAT world
the very same world, I once hurt my hands punching walls to reach–
hobnobbing like some awkward figurine whose two legs were sculpted as one–
and whose tiny Victorian shoes were forever jammed in a loaded pedestal
you are now primed to enter THAT world, but walking elegantly through the door
so you see my son, my smile is different too

max-yankee-smaller-filepainted this when Max only reached my elbow, now he towers over me

Persian rug

such was her heartbreak
the scars were visible from space
trust like a wildebeest
giving way to the crocodile jaws of desire
door to the truth
hinged directly beneath his lying tongue
cut off from his actions
it remained locked
distant to her pain
her heavy chest sunk to the bedroom floor
an ocean of aimless wood
washed over by a handmade find
discovered at an estate sale up north
on a crisp autumn day with golden air
fingers interlocked in an electric ballet
their last hand clasp
today would be dark
the blue sky tarp burnt black
the worn Persian rug often for their lovemaking
until it was the only hard, soft spot remaining
to cushion her shattering pieces

communal totem

created way, way college-back for a design class that I didn’t very much care for

how I escaped

can you glide across marble
with my big feet tripping you
will you dance across scuffed inlay
while soaking in a swing band
if you know me at all
you’ll know why horn sections and maroon socks are perfect
will you sneer if an errant hair strand sticks to my shiny mouth
my lips are glossed ’cause I’m trying to look pretty
as you twirl me left
I can’t twirl right–that’s the side I always drop things on
will you know I never lived above an Italian deli but wanted to
or worked as a librarian
or sketched ponies in a hot air balloon
or need my bed sheets striped, otherwise I put them on the wrong way
will you know I dream all the time
too much all the time

something I was supposed to be held back a grade for
teacher voices never entering an ear
and out the other, only opera wishes and flying unicorns
will you judge me for drinking hot cocoa after red wine

will you know how I escaped
the someone once called me

and that I don’t ever want her to catch me again
all I need in this life
all I want anymore

is to dance all night as the swing band plays
with someone who doesn’t mind getting their feet stepped on

swing dancer

swing dancer

originally published last year, now edited and changed up a bit, finally in a verse place it belongs
art also previously published, gosh, I gotta get cranking in all directions

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