I challenge myself to write relationship pieces that don’t read too sappy-it’s not always easy (as perhaps the lover was here😉)

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

she likes curves as much as the next guy

she likes curves as much as the next guy
your supple lips create a secret shadow
she dreams of hiding in
those amazing shoulders of yours
burst into perfect half-moons
she adores the curve of your back
how your lats run down into a sinewy v
on your well-formed biceps
she imagines suns rising and setting
on those glutes
ah, yes those magnificent rounded caps
leading to the sweeping arcs of your sculpted tendons
she visualizes your body thrusting into forward motion
with all those powerful curves
yes, my friends
the ladies like curves too




this fellow sketched last year at a wrestling match

could it be so simple

I wonder what you’d say
if I wasn’t kissing your lips right now
is there someone else on your mind
or do I alone
satisfy all the places in your body
entering by mouth
would your words place feathers
into my wings
serve as a silk path
beneath my bare feet
could it be so simple
this kiss
inertia in relationship time
I crave the honor of knowing your mouth
I desire the ability of understanding your motivation
your lips are etching lines into my heart
I’m usually so much more resilient
this is a bit unnerving
too many explosions going off
in my head
you are in there lighting up cannons
if I let go
gravity will pull me into you
I’m not sure why you can do this to me
when so many others have failed
I fear failure

if this kiss is authentic
I might just be in love
with your lips
and all the other spaces in your body
could it be so simple

MM super close up

exceptionally imperfect

Exceptionally imperfect. It’s all I want. This a special low bar setting, don’t you think? I like special. You may leave me alone and I will have already fallen down. No worries. There are parts which work well rolling on the floor. He knows them. Not like her. Did you hear her screaming. The window was ajar like the door–not as welcoming. I’m quite certain a few vocal sobs hit the birds below. What was it she was crying about this time? Oh yea, wrinkles. How she just can’t do it anymore. Hell, who can? You know what I mean, right? I say this but it does nothing to move her mind. Is she dying alive? There are no silent places to hide when you know all the rooms in your home. She’s always crying and not even rolling on the floor like some of us. That’s uplifting is it not? I mean what do you think? Does she expect her big plasma screen to extend its little curving arms and whisper Hallmark hucksterisms into her sobbing eyeballs? She’s screaming at the wrinkles. Oh well, let me suck this up. I can empathize a bit. Cotton shirts from the dryer. Impossible to smooth out like baby’s asses once they leave the store hangers. 100% algodon shirts shit wrinkles! Ironing is nearly as horrifying as cooking. Maybe I should be the one crying. There is also moaning that comes with her crying. We won’t get into that now. I reserve my moaning for the most special of occasions when doors are closed.

I do want to wish those who celebrate, a Happy Fourth. It is my grandma’s birthday, July 4. She could have painted her skin with stars beneath beaded fringe and knee length dresses. Maybe Heaven has a tattoo parlor and a vintage dress shop. I do so adore a firecracker backdrop when my head is on the pillow dreaming of Mr. Key and locked doors. Both shops and doors closed for holidays and moaning.

The Captain/acrylic

The Captain/acrylic

Somewhere in the world, this fella once rowed people to party island. I thought him absolutely inspirational and painted his likeness. Captains are so freakin’ cool:)

“I miss you”

“I miss you”
scrawled softly below the printed Hallmarkian homage
what she meant
she missed herself
struggling, her life had been/was a struggle
sucking on hard necks to find happiness
maybe draw out the genie floating inside green glass
brown glass
clear glass
she always swallowed with tenderness
all the adjectives applied here
warm, hot, fiery liquid, eye-watering, knockout…
they did
to her
burning her throat, searing passed her chest direct to the gut
sometimes back up again
not pleasant
her pain, fair punishment
she was not successful, self-opinion
not his
she placed those words on him like the last label of cheap Merlot
not buying that one again
she’d lost him a while back
it might have been the tumbler smash on the counter intended for his torso
mind and trajectory changed the last moment
that look
his eyes, crystal blue like the heaven she’d be locked out of
those spectacular pools, Jesus–how they watered like the oceans they came from
haunting, sad, broken for now
(not everlasting breakage, like hers if she didn’t get her shit together)
the card, her card should have been a letter, a long beautifully written thing
telling him about her fears, her passions, her self-loathing (this he knew)
still he’d stayed through most of it as much as he could stand
as any man could handle who considered himself manly
before utterly letting go and permitting the thing to die in crashing glass
she wanted to write how sorry she was
she missed the conversations mostly, the pillow banter
he was a great one for banter, a rare one
how many manly men could cure her heartache with words
sing musicals in her ear until sleep found her
just thinking of this reduced her to sobering tears
sober still not good
her grip fondled the clear neck
she held it like a lover
caressing the glass, wishing it his salty skin
lips crawled to the tip
the cylinder entered her throat
her aching mouth swallowed
warm, sweet
her eyes closed down
desperate to suck out a genie
please dream
sleep a few years
“I miss you”
what she meant
she missed him
the card slipped from her fingers




deep into my life

you are so deep into my life
I don’t remember the feel of my skin alone
you are all I long for each day, your body and mine
hearts, heads, hands
all parts in between
and below
fiercely joined, not the iceberg
that sank the unsinkable
dare pierce our flesh
you and I
float on something greater
catastrophic winds hold no bearing
across our sails
the compass of our bond guides true
would a mighty mountain black out the sun
no mourning of light
or heat for that matter
need be honored

we are self-contained
a brilliant vessel of fire
striking flames on sheets
laughing with moonlight
sharing secrets in locked embraces
my entire core flowing within yours
it is for all these most magnificent reasons

the union we share is too ungodly powerful
there is not a moment of air singularly mine
the intoxication of our mixing flesh
wobbles my entire body
forever in fog
not walking clearly
mist evaporating only by your presence
it’s not right
we weather any elemental affliction
together for certain
but I fear these soul libations
toxi-fying my blood
before I grow a milligram weaker
I will walk away
with both feet on the ground
back turned to you

I will mourn every granule of flesh
I must dig away
to make a whole

Warrior Lashes

Warrior Lashes

this art I thought fitting for the piece, as this gal is a warrior and the person in the verse is ‘trying’ to be
though I’m truly not sure if she behaving selfishly or selflessly or cowardly