Poems

2017

No Artist is Full

In this season of treason
and broken hearts
All art is for sale.

Tired fingers
Reach for the brush,
Fail.

Some day,
I will paint my way
Out,

Bring the world
In:

A painted jail will also sell
New dream
Will begin.

2016

Internet Mommy Brain

Turn baby pajamas into a teddy bear
Turn your cloth diapers into a rocking chair
Don't swear
Vaccinate, articulate, stimulate
Stay calm
Use organic balm
Read their palm
Don't vaccinate, stay up late, set a play date
Make dinner
Vaccinate
Embrace your inner
Beginner
Begin to
Make a teddy bear
Fail
Swear
Wear your baby
Connect, disinfect, perfect
Buy all unsented
Sensitive
Skin
Is in
Begin
Turn a teddy bear into baby pajamas
Go bananas
Stay calm
Read your own palm
Put baby pajamas on teddy bear
Swear not to stay up late
Fail
Investigate
Daycares
Who cares if you sleep
Take a leap
Wear teddy bear pajamas
Other mamas
Relate, I swear
Make sure to hydrate
Get set
Prepare
Make diapers out of rocking chair
Share a link
Blink
Drink wine
It's late
Hibernate


She Says

'I dance, mama!'
She says.

Entranced,
I watch her twirl
Way past her bedtime

In my whole lifetime
This is the best

She is the host
I am the guest
'I dance, mama!'

She says.


Return

Much of dancing I see 
Is just fighting
It's entirely uninviting
Yet I look and I look -
I keep waiting
For the fighting to
Turn into melting
For the meeting I wait
For the letting
For the joining
Of hearts that are
Swelling
Tired hearts fighting
Brains that are running
So fast they forget they are
Dying
Yet I look and I look
I am waiting
For the beat
To tune down
The yelling
Swollen hearts,
Please take part
In the racing
Only you can
Return us
To dancing


Song

Some of us nerds
Tango with words
Catching two birds
With one song

Slowly we learn
How to burn
Step after step
We dance on

Fine Line

One
Day
I may
Again
Wonder
Why


But
Today
I play
Music
And
Taste
New
Wine


This
Game
Of mine
Takes
One
Day
At
A
Time

One
Day
I may
Whine
Again

I may
Fall
Out
Of
Line

But
My
Glass
Is
Half
Full

So
It's
Perfectly
Fine

2015

Danceaholic

My world is dance:
I eat it, smell it, treasure it
I wear it inside out and outside in.
It is my skin and the way I begin:
I sleep in it and wake with it
I breathe it, think it, know it
My love, my child, mother, friend.
It is my path
It is my end.

Dance Lesson

“I dance, therefore I AM!” 
you say.
And yet,
when I watch you teach,
I feel that you “are NOT.”

Why is that, dear colleague?
What is this knot?
No, it is not “NOTHING.”

Dance training cannot be 
a means to an end.
You can PRETEND not to know,

But I repeat, is this it?
Can you not smell it?
This dance class reeks
Because you are breeding 
a culture of FEAR.

Here, look through this mirror
and tell me,
Is PERFECTION worth
one thousand injuries?
Two thousand?

Just to be nice, I will ask twice:
Is the PAIN a good sign of
 “working hard,”
Or is it a sign for many things,
Including 
those INJURIES?

I know, its not pretty.
It is SAD.
It has become my duty
to tell you,
This MADNESS must end.


“I teach, therefore I am”
- BAM!
You are free to be
Conscious of how you teach

Don’t preach, 
Don’t pretend that this meaningless
Repetition is somehow HEALTHY
Build new ways for PEOPLE
To SING in their bodies, 
to live and to FLY

Cry, my friend
It has been a tough lesson
Now, please TRY.

Audience Development

This ballet makes you cry tears of joy.
But I beg you: stop the charade.
Yes, I am that weird observer who talks during the show.

It’s annoying, I know, but it is too late,
Now I am on stage, screaming:
WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?

Can’t you see that this world is dead?
Armies of silent dancers – portrayed as art.
All a part of the centuries-old act of
Violence titled “technique” and veiled in “royal beauty”


This cutie – the swan – she knows
All the perfect ways not to show her pain.
She seems vain – everything pointed from her hair bun to her toes.
Perfect feathers and bows,
She bows but wishes to scream, instead:
WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?

Don’t worry,
She is not annoying like me
She will just bow in silence,
And you can keep crying tears of joy.
Applaud,
Enjoy.

Bliss

If only it was true
That ignorance is bliss.

Then, maybe you could
Take him – “the abuser" and her – “the victim”
And put them in their separate cells.

You could even pay for their food
As if they were expensive pets -
It would mean you “did good.”

Right?

Wrong.

Bliss blows.

A part of you knows – your daughter and son are
In the same boat with the rest of the world
Truth be told,
You can’t afford their food.

Does this not sound good?
Don't you feel blissful now,
Standing there like that -
Your dusty tutu sticking out
From under your office pants?

Love Bites

He was funny.

When I think of his face
I remember the teeth the most:
A gap between the top two.

I remember the imprint it made on my skin.
The gap, I mean.

The mark was like one of a horse bite, too.

I remember another time,
When a girl told me she was bit by a horse.
I thought it was funny, at first –
A horse biting her breast, like an apple
I laughed, as if I were numb to her pain.

And I was.
Numb, I mean.

After all, my favorite horse was biting me all along,
Again
And again
Here, beast, take this bite
I will carry it under my light
In the name of love it is special, right?

And it was,
Special.

Until I saw other girls crying:
The teeth marks on their skin
With a gap in between.

I remember the imprint that made on the other side of my skin.
Again
And again

Teeth choking my light
Has my beast gone wild or was this all right -
In the name of love, I mean?

Love bites, you might say.
And, it’s true.
I may even consider laughing with you,
Cause life can be mean.

But nay.
It is not funny.
This pitiful gap, I mean.

2013

Reset

When at last
Aches pass
Heart resets to
Tender

Ghostly stories
Of the past
Readily
Surrender

Go on
Tender heart
Be the top
Contender

Beat out loud
Pump around
Peace is due
To enter

Exit

Stop!
This is it.
Knowledge is obsolete.
Delete.
Let your heart
Be
The ultimate
Exit.

Fartn' Words (Pardon My French)

Empty words
Fill our worlds
Just like farts -
Stinky.

Just like worms
We eat dirt
Chew and poop -
Quickly.

If at all
We wake up
And inhale
Deeply

We will die
On the spot -
Too much shit,
Simply.

Grey Woman

Beige lies
Under your eyes,
Red lips shut.

What colour
Could possibly cover
Your leucite heart?

2012

Different Values

You are right,
I am gold.
But don't be blind.

I am not the kind
To wrap around your neck
Or jewel your finger.

I am liquid.

Bathe in me, if you dare
Drink plenty, like wine
I will embrace you fully,
Give you the whole mine.

Yet, if you try
To make me into your neck tie,
I will leave your safe empty,
Your mouth dry.

Now, don't cry.

If I become what you want,
I would be selling us both short.

Now, can you see?

Gold is free.

Politically Polite

"Please and thank you,"
"Thks and sorry,"
"After you,"
"Bonne appetite" -

Your "politeness"
Reeks
Of lonely,
Self-oppressed
"Reality."

Bee


Wake up,
Worker bee.
You've worked hard 
Not to see
That to be 
or not to be
Is not the question;
That the answer 
Is not 
The chicken,
nor is it 
The egg.
You,
Sweet bee,
Simply are -
So, 
Be.

The Switch

happy/sad
happy/sad
happy/sad
dead

Proud Pigeon

Your chest
Is covered in blisters,
Proud pigeon -
Give it a rest.

Your nest is empty
But your wings
Are full -
They know you best.

A House of Tiny Doors

They lived
in a house of tiny doors:
all nestled inside the windows.

It leaked
broken tunes through the old wooden floors
and sighed
when the moon kissed the pillows.

They wandered
around its rooms until dawn -
to try all the doors they could open.

Each morning
they woke up
completely reborn:
their rested hearts newly unbroken.

Good Morning

Sticky new bed sheets
Skin salty-sweet
Pillow talk spilling
Onto the street

Street Band

Slow sweet spring
Loops into swing
Street sounds cling
Like symbols!

Dramatic Days

Some days, the breathing is difficult
Sometimes, you can’t face the day
One day, your cells will disintegrate -
Only because she’s away.

Saving Grace

Intentionally, perhaps,
She slid off her lifeboat
And began swimming slowly -
Towards the end.

Awkwardly, alas,
Like a seal after a fight
She rolled sideways –
Away from grace.

Occasionally, indeed,
She made love to the jellyfish
Some were lonely –
Most were already dead.

Eventually, at last,
She surrendered.
Water pulled her
To land.

Dog on a Chain

He licked her wounds
Though his blistered tongue bled
While her heavy heart slowly opened

Forever Fall

She took a look -
It got her hooked
But he was set on
“Never.”

She looked and looked
Her ribs unhooked
And he fell in -
Forever.

They crawled together
Swapping skins
Lips, livers, tongues -
Whatever!

She learned to fly
He learned to cry
It was the best fall
Ever.

One Ego Ago

My ego is a ballroom dancer.
It is perfect like the heel of a tango shoe -
Tall, strong, and one of a kind.

It is graceful and muscular,
Draped in royal silks of praise,
Self-taught to shine.

Dressed in rhinestones of success,
It can practice for hours -
Just to gain first place.

It hates other dancers,
Loves its own fake tan -
As much as biting its plastic nails.

To see it perform
Is a must-see show
I die laughing.


***
I
Spy
Seven
Seconds
Staying
Silently
Still

2011

And So We Spin


As the glorious 
muse seeks her essence
through form,
I attempt to lie still
in the eye of the storm.
But 
as seconds collide
with tornadoes
of dust,
I give into the spell
of the cursed 
wanderlust.
Getting hopelessly lost
in the folds of her dress,
I choke up
on the dust,
and entreat her caress:
Have it all, 
lovely witch!
My before, now and after -
Spin my wondering soul,
Quench my thirst 
with 
your 
laughter!

Sunday

spring in full swing
doubts hang by a string
minutes get lighter
than dandelion seeds
sun succeeds

Sweet Tooth

Her femininity
is a utility knife - handy!
She easily opens 
a can of worms
Just to turn it
into a bowl of candy.

To the Corps de Ballet

Freeze, oh fragile army!
Your sharp edges are worn out,
Your perfect lines are a puppet show
for empty seats.

Now, scatter! 
For your cancerous masters
Are dead men walking.
They have nothing to offer but dirty hands 
and expired currency.

Breathe. 
Your years of child labor
Will not go unnoticed
Your tutus do not cover 
your bleeding feet anyways


Now, listen. 
And not to me 
but to your own rhythm
For your drum sticks are made of feathers,
And mine are of four inch heels


Let us wave the white flag
And laugh at each others war make up
Then, could we waltz together
naked in peace?

2010

Release

A cry from my inner child
Pulling towards
Your deep swaying cradle
My faraway beginning

Daydream

Not here and now
But there and then
Distance 
Reluctantly 
Disappears

Process

Peeling layers of space
Eyes like teeth through an onion
New visions cleansing my blindness
With sweat and tears

Witness

Stillness
silently 
smiles
As my train of thought 
crashes
Into 
an iceberg
of stale fears


Sting

This sweet longing
Pushing through sore flesh
Like one thousand honey bees 

Making my blood fresh,
Turning O negative
Into high fructose syrup.

Infatuation

My luscious ego
Smothered in positive feedback
Devours the glamour
Of "Yes, I can!"

Understanding

My playground is my fortress:
Glass prison with sliding stairs.
A queen of my own circus,
I reconstruct mirrors and chairs.

Through your repeated visits
I find forgotten doorways,
When I get stuck in a corner
You see an exit, always.

Never say never - simply
Look past the shiny surface.
I can just stay forever
Next to you, at your service.

This morning I saw you watching
How my dreams appeared.
And I woke up homeless:
Illusions of prison cleared.

Drunk on Feelings

Bitter: a liter of toxic waste
Polluting the source of acquired taste,
Addicted since birth to dramatic effect
I swallow, drink up, forget.

The cycle continues, I throw up guilt,
Wash up in self-pity and promise to quit.
The only way out is going in -
Inhale, observe, clean.

Glimpses of Clarity

The roles we assume through dispensable days
Transform pure wisdom to moldy cliches
Unless we dig deeper ourselves in the gut
Our minuscule truths are bound to rot

Backbone

Tail echoes the head
Like my life’s journey
From here to there

2009


Running Shoes

Soft rubber walls for soles in action,
So they may rest in warm embrace.
Two perfect homes for bones and flesh,
Old partners for unending journeys.

To My Baby Sister

When the temptation of perfection
Becomes a thief that grabs your rest,
Remember how we felt as children -
When simply moving was our quest!

Return to where you sing through motion,
With no conclusions, no regrets,
Allow freedom of emotion
To flow through your empty chest.