toilet paper gown

A toilet paper gown has outlasted this fondant fairytale
Our dark lies gessoed white on white
Look at me leaping into a downpour
I’ve grown so very tired of ikea domesticity and Wayfair lighting–
dressage for mules in horse harness
These tissue sheaths spontaneously combusting, quiver my body
You once did this for me, do you even remember,
flesh-dancing with a blue fire no ocean could smother
I’ve become a zombie waltzing in a deluge
You and I suffocated in Egyptian cotton well before this pulp symbolism
Now my white paper gown disintegrates, I pray to the black prescient sky
Look up, nimbus clouds hide nothing-they never deceive
Dearest Love,
We doomed ourselves to this Pompeii,
the moment we under-appreciated the dark sky and caressed our monogrammed bath towels

by myself

I am trapped in an intolerable sameness
My mind, a weapon firing the same bullet over and over–
killing everything I wake for each day
Trapped in life’s jungle, a purgatory for lost hunters–
those who know where they should be perched–
but can never climb high enough
Earth hardens me, heaven humbles me
Trapped in between, I stare down at God and up at the devil
So much transpires, lustful living chokes out the meek
Promises break, chambers are emptied
Nothing springs back, nothing returns–

nothing, until him
His disarming gunmetal eyes–a grey so pure–
he surely has stolen pigment from Saturn’s rings
My weakest points give way to his bare arms
He becomes what I had prayed for
My spirit rekindles, like a weary grizzly in heat
Freed, my slumbering heart rises from its hibernation
His words turn my winter breath into spring air
Every moving part of his powerful anatomy, targets me–
He parlays brilliant charm and overtakes my trust

Sometime later, the camouflage fades
The sun breaks through the dense canopy
I observe him from a new position–
watching while he is unaware
My mind returns to restless oblivion
There is, I will admit here, a sense of comfort in the chaos
Around me, the entire world stampedes in unison
And I know I can survive by myself




fait accompli

to break ‘the rules’ in accordance with your understanding of them
love, the loaded chain ascribed to bind your complicated heart
twisted metal must eventually cut blood flow
suffer the sane, suffer the insane
there is not a singular countermove 
weighted shackles are duty bound to drag you down
all the way
sink your entirety below the waters of realism
submersion, suffocation
of pain, of fear – the drowning

come here, move in very close to me
let me help you, sweetheart
as we descend into the bottomless sea
into your panicking soul
I will whisper, above the chink of padlocks

the only secret worth dying for
I will murmur into your ear–
how to blackout the pain, void the fear

oh my darling,
is there breath yet left
for this–

the torture of your compromised heart
must joyously accept its doom

there, there
do not be afraid

‘fait accompli’

painted this vampy alienish woman over the last few days–
she only bites if I tell her to


it is

it is
a book
thin and monochromatic
beast and verse
love and madness
what we do to ourselves
what I’ve held
and continue
to store in my own heart
through personal trials
and gentle outward observations
it is
a book
for my children
something to hold in their hands
one day
when they need my heart nearby
I might be here
when they seek my heart
but if I’m not
it is

I’m of the old school belief if something is worthwhile eventually it will find its way, not a wonderful sales person for my own work, I must make an effort especially for my talented and generous friends and family who helped me realize this first publishing dream, so my friends, my very first illustrated book of free verse (some call them poems, my father believes poetry should rhyme – these verses do not) is available on my booksite –
cover-image-jpegI thank you – how very exciting it is this morning to write this as the first white of winter presses against my studio door:)

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

ocean lover

The new dying to occur with autumn’s arrival announced itself with icy darkness. She was burning in the nautical sheets. Why was it so fucking hot? This long day was jammed hard into the night with no sign of relenting. Watching the aqua bedroom curtains bounce–like her favorite peekaboo skirt when she was playing at sexkitten–didn’t help cool her fevered mind. A chilling breeze serpentined the bamboo furniture of her bedroom once plum-peach. These boudoir walls had been painted oceanic blue two years ago after she met him–windsailer man.

They first met on Maui’s shore when the towel worshipers had departed for the day and only the moonraisers remained. She was a sunset photographer. He belonged to the ocean. Her first magical sighting was spent picturing his body sailing on hers. All this imagined through her Nikon 16-35mm. He’d been lens captured tilting his rig until his chest was practically parallel with the turquoise water. The way his body manipulated surf and sea made her desperate to know him.

With her Nikon rolling as wingman, both lens and lady were waiting when the Freestyle Wave finally pulled to shore. Beneath the pearled moonlight, a brilliant smile connected his sea to her land. Their tropical bodies were soon venturing hand in hand to a tiki bar where they danced away the tides. He directed her curves with the ease of wind and sail. In and out, sweeping effortlessly in time to the pulse of her excited skin. The moment he dove into her mouth with a deep soft kiss, she plunged into his watery world. Head first. There was no going back to a lens loving distance. Not after this man. Not after this kiss.

Her sunset landscapes were replaced with crashing waves and flying porpoises. Sea shells adorned every nook of her condo. Her hair went from metro blonde to sun-kissed platinum and her lipstick shade to orange coral. For two long years she struggled to take this beautiful lover from the sea to the land. For as many days, the depth of her resolve watered down. On this particular night the harvest moon cast an orange-gold across Maui’s sunset. In the corner of her ocean blue walls–emptiness where once stood a rolled sail.

Another night spent sweating in relationship oblivion. She had no energy left to do battle for his heart. He had not the strength to best his wet desire. The ocean is a wickedly magnificent lover. There is no winning once she’s made up her mind.
first oceansince this is my first and most likely last ocean painting, I wanted to sneak her in again-thank you



it was to be of us

it was to be a universe of us
out there
we started so strong
perfect was the word I used
delightful was your deal
we matched
didn’t we?
spirited thoroughbreds out of the gate
but we weren’t ready
were we?
the world was loaded with faces
ripened bodies luring us away
from our interlocked hands
we fell to weakness
or was it easy desperation?
no better than horses in heat doing what comes naturally
missteps out of that gate
from the house
our glossy domicile collapsed upon itself
crumbling as it stood
on us
this neo-perfect world piled high with rubble
no longer hard and shiny
those other faces disappeared
in the din of our breaking mortar
none of them ever planned on staying
I guess
did we
rocky torso