wooden horse

See how the wooden horse enters the scene–
on a silent dolly from stage right it gallops
Do you fancy Montague or Capulet
The show goes on, ending when the star-crossed lovers die
Isn’t that beautiful, how the royal velvet curtains cradle the set
All hand-stitched by Venetian cobblers, who were bored out of their minds–
stringing mandolins with leather shoestrings
The stiff horse has seen better days
Its low-budget cedar ass is splintering
Someone hiding in the pit had to be mindful of costs
The wooden equine doesn’t even belong on this set
The driver missed his cue for Cinderella this morning
In her pink world, no one commits suicide–
except maybe the mice, upon learning they are no longer stallions–
and that their playhouse curtains are a machine-stitched polyblend

animated refuse

this character sketch reminds me of an ornery Shakespearean spirit, I couldn’t tell you why

 

the leap

Biker Chic/marker & watercolorshe
stood on the edge of the bed
spreading her inked feathers
willing those dark wings to lift her
away
delicate down earned through needling pain
her last chance to escape a nest of tepid dreams
gossamer points all the way to the half moons of her fingertips
highways of black lines converging at the nape
and the delicate parts of her stressed lats
he would be the last to talk her into anything

these massive tattoos on her once naked flesh
preordained, was what she mused
he’d been ink stained and broken pieces for a long time
she’d been a jigsaw right out of the birth box
together, they were hell’s mess
she didn’t mind the chaos
she didn’t mind the pain
she was just tired of minding things
the edge of the bed
a coward’s edge
the fall, two and one-half feet to the polished wood
the jump would be real
the leap symbolic
she was a coward in life
she’d be a coward in death
her arms swept as she channeled Vitruvian Man
eyelids squeezed shut
liquid limbs feigned a flying pattern
then
off, off, off she leaped
floating gloriously in this unhinged moment
down hard onto the floor
thumping

the cat woke, his mocking hiss appropriate
she gazed long into the dressing mirror
the laughter
surprised even her
it was not a raucous guffaw
just an upturn of damp lip with the softest snicker
the winged tattoos
his impassioned idea
twisted around her arms and hands
those she tenderly kissed
spiraling lines blacked-out her back, all the way down to her ass

these stunning inky feathers also took great care to smother out
the life beneath once dying of ennui
those heaven sent dark wings
had lifted her after all

what is it you want

what is it you want
insides turned out
limbs astray
hearts cut away from spines
’til the beating stops
praying one day
all are
cloaked and restricted
from a world
created for life to be lived

Know this
the beating will never cease
not in one thousand lifetimes
it is in your head
between the eardrums
the singular
boom, boom, boom
of hatred
the same pounding
of flesh
of tearing
of bodies rendered lifeless
while
you pray to meet
One who would never
cut hearts away from spines

Earth's Angel

Earth’s Angel

thoughts of peace across the ocean