Monday, September 22, 2014


I sleep the day away,
canceling plans and not
awakening accept to urinate.

Getting out of bed is pushed
into 2nd shift assistant’s shoulders.

We watch real-estate TV.
No one selects my favorite house in Austin,
although another seller smartly avoids
buying in rape-friendly DC neighborhood.

Overdue words taunt me,
but the muse remains missing
until almost after my desired bedtime.

Monday, September 15, 2014


The must be Photoshopped,
perfect facial bisection
of Bombay/tabby crossbreed
complete with burnt orange
and onyx matches covering
its body in indiscriminate patterns
is someone’s authentic, pampered pet.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

All in a Days Work

Become lady in red…
Van to bank…
Buy a gnome…
Plus mini-loaf carrot bread,
2 quarts of back berries,
and a single box of minute rice…
Run box  back over to bank for their food drive…
Congratulate self on random act of kindness…
Call van..
Return home…
Deal with library mix up…
Retrieve meds..
Print  poetry contest entry…
Shop for overdue Apocalypse gift exchange
            Wonder why you got matched with such a diva…
            Decide to create care package
            containing first aid kit, tampons,
 peanut butter, granola, and Gatorade…
Think this much more appropriate than
her requested Sephora…
Who thinks about makeup as civilization collapses?
Mail all..
commit 2nd random act of kindness…
Listen to audiobook…
Watch TV…
Mourn Robin Williams…

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

The Things You Hold Onto

Even though chemical exposure based amnesia
poached most of the memories classified “us” from your memory,

we  still IM
hours after reasonable people
have turned off the lights,
disconnected Netflix,
and sent their laptops to sleep.

I refuse to admit to anyone,
except the stranger who’ll receive this card,
that one of my “things” remains you.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014


For more than a decade,
I required steroids to keep breathing.

But  in mid- June,
there was a new miracle drug
that actually worked.

Three injections later,
I’m two weeks steroid free
and the itchy, red eruptions that plagued me
since adolescence only feature in nightmares.

With skin clear as a Wyoming night,
I ponder shopping for shorts and tank tops.
And, today, along with my overgrown
afro frizz gone wrong, my prednisone induced facial hair
descended into my barber’s floor.

Muse Persuit

Beginning in black/blue dark
I craft lines like someone processed.

Poem supposed to fit on a postcard,
defies sizes design; no amount of shrinkage
can permit that piece to fit.

Single finger flies
from keyboard edge to keyboard edge
as gray dawn of morning
morphs into unexpected pastel green.


Start second stab.