Monthly Archives: October 2016

Their Love Radiates

Train ride home, to silence at least, not having to pretend.

               Another day at work, cracking wise and being everyone’s pal,

               Being the ray of sunshine everyone counts on.


               Their love radiates, and keeps that sunshine coming, keeps me going,

               As my heart falls away from the world, and I fear for what tomorrow brings,

               And I know I’ll be alone again when I go home.


               I can watch Sports Center and Lindsey Czarniak, and then the big game.

               I can listen to sad music and read bittersweet stories about love denied.

               I can just be, and not pretend, and not have to be anything at all.

A Cigarette Lighter

The pills can’t fix it all. Only make me able to fake a smile.

               It’s still always starless twilight in my useless dreams.

               It’s still trying to outrun things implacable and hungry.

               It doesn’t go on and off at will, like a light switch, a cigarette lighter.

               I can’t just love this world.


               Somewhere the child remains, but he is buried so deep and dark,

               That the days have all turned yellow like old photographs,

               And none of that joy has stayed close, or felt in echoes from October.

               She kissed me and I felt nothing. The greatest desire impotent in rage.

               She kissed me, and the gamble fell through the table.


               The mountains hold spirits unclean and always welcoming.

               The ruins of ancient kingdoms and swallowed infancies burn bright.

               The stars shine like those useless baubles in department stores.

               The dark soil is mother’s milk to the returned and graceless.

               The night is some other world, some other love.

Mourn The Moon

In the cold, silver waters of the lagoon,

               dark and grey in the light of the moon,

               I look out, from the shrouded shore,

               for the proud mermaid, I do so adore.


               Hair as black as the shrouded deep,

               skin aquamarine, eyes dare not sleep,

               and  tail strong and glistening and green.

               I rapture in unreal found and now seen!


               I watch her, on a dark rock, looking to the sky.

               She comes to mourn the moon; I know not why.

               She looks to the stars, to those diamond glitters.

               She drinks of a cup, the poisons and so embitters.


               I drink of this cup, though not with her, on my own.

               I look to the lightless waters, to her weeping on a stone.

               She wants the sky and it’s wonders, those distant suns.

               I want her, to follow her, to be hers, as my heart runs.


               Both here until the morning comes, gold and distant.

               She looks at the bright sun coming, is gone in an instant.

               I stay until the light is firm in it’s glory, then wander on.

               Me and her, unhappy, restless, cursed by the dawn.        




Heaven’s Tattered Ways

I believed, when I was a girl, that a mermaid lived in the little grotto that formed in the bend of the dark, slow river that ran behind my house. The hill past the little back yard dropped severly, and was covered in verdant trees and mossy rocks and tall, wild grass. The little grotto was shaded and secret.

               I always swam there in the humid heat of an East Tennessee summer. The cold water made me shiver even in the hot season. I always sang to her, knowing that mermaids sang to people to keep them to come to them. I called out to her that I meant her no harm and I was her friend. She never came, though I always knew it was because she was shy.

               My bedroom was in the back of the house, my bed right against the window. We had no air conditioning so in summer I always slept with my window open, hoping for a cool breeze to ward off how stuffy and sticky the air felt. And in those summer months, as I drifted to sleep looking up at the sky full of stars and shepherded by Mother Moon, I’d talk to the mermaid, down in the little grotto. I could tell her anything, for she loved me and used her magic to protect me. I always knew she was there for me.


               I am a grown woman now. My daughter is asleep, curled up in a little ball of pink and bows on the couch, cartoons running mindlessly on the TV, though mercifully muted. She holds the stuffed mermaid I gave her close, her best and truest friend. I didn’t even realize what I was giving her when I bought it for her. A mermaid protected me; a mermaid would protect her.

               All the windows are open in the living room, but the air is still and the day is hot and even just sitting still on the couch I am sticky with sweat and finding it hard to breathe, like I need gills to breath this wet air.

               I decide to go for a walk.

               I leave my daughter sleeping and walk to the back of the house and down the wild, unkempt hill to the little grotto. It’s not as dark and hidden now, as blight and insects have killed several of the trees that shaded it. There are still patches of shade, and they are soothing.

               I walk to the very stone edge of the grotto and sit down. The stone is cool and I feel it on my skin beneath the seat of my jeans. I feel overwhelmed now, back in the secret place that nurtured me as a child, through all the hard times and wanting to escape and hiding everything inside and smiling brightly like a good girl should. This was my Eden, Neverland and Narnia, my place beyond the world.

               I sing. I sing to call the mermaid up from the dark cold waters. I sing to call back something I’ve lost and that was precious to me. The sense that there was magic in the world, and I could slip between the cracks into something wonderous, and that my mermaid really did watch out for me. That someone was watching out for me.


               “Over dark seas and endless days,

               over starless dark and devil’s ways,

               over lost moon and the hope of sunrays,

               to know at last heaven’s tattered ways.”


               I sing those words, that mantra that called her into my mind, that let me know she was there and that her magic kept me alive and safe when everything went all too shambles. I sing them and I don’t see her and my heart crushes into itself and I hang my head and my hands start to weep. After everything that’s happened not this too!

               I start to get up again, and walk back to the house, and I hope compose myself before my little girl wakes up because I will not let her so me cry, when something in the water catches my eye.

               It’s her! My mermaid! Her golden hair a halo and crown, her beautiful aquamarine face looking up from the depths. And she smiles at me.


She Calls My Name

She calls my name, calls me back from sleep, into the stars.

               Her dark eyes see it all, shame and glory, the secret I keep.

               Touched, intimate and invasive, tender in it’s disregard.

               She loves me, but is an insect, flesh masquerading as light.

               She loves me, taking a piece of my light every two weeks.


               Angels wear masks of sweetness, for their wings cut deep.

               Angel she said, when she carried me as a child into darkness.

               Angel, when she took samples and seeds and planted new life.

               A half seen loss, in another chamber, a face like mine with dark eyes.


               My room is not a safe place, she has the key to every window pane.

               The rain is a buzzing of flying ant wings, drowning out my lover’s voice.

               She is there, albino bobcat spirit animal with blood on it’s white maw.

               Those eyes so dark, welcome me in a love that tore away all desire.


               She calls my name, and she takes my hand as I rise into the stars.

               Nothing is kept for my own, I am hers, I am broken and made new.

               Chaste violation, a sharp tool intermidary, too take for silent army.

               She smooths my hair, kisses my brow, will destroy me none the less.


Naked and Flightless

Alaska, a girl, naked and flightless, feet not touching the ground.

               I worship with silver and sacred paper and all the shots collected.

               The graven altar of softness and warmth, like the sacred,

               Cannot be touched or measured, only weighed in blue iris blackened.

               The songs are not sweet in communal passion and utmost darkness

               And the bitter marks of life are unseen, neon conceals death and holiness.

               Eyes lock, the only light stars shine in a windowless cell and frustrum kiss.

               Stars blue as the ocean of which Demiurge came to spoil all love and flesh.

               Take it in hand and it will be extinguished completely by force of arms.

               It’s a light, and youth is hard as the sun in it’s cruel throne and bed of silver.

               I orbit the light now, even having drawn another veil to wrap it like a child.

               Light and stars and some hope of some other place, promised but cannot be awarded.

               Silver and sacred paper are the prayers given, time and the weight of milk returned.

               So goes the show, and the cold winter outside, the hand of the gloved moon repentant,

               Vowing to return to it’s shame in the stars beguiled and deathlike in a mistreated love.

Swimming Pool Time 2

I came for him, I loved him.

               But this house, this world,

               Is not my home.


               I came for him, I loved him.

               But I’m stuck in this place,

               And his kisses don’t heal me.


               I remember the warmth of him

               As I wrapped my tail around him

               In the blue warm Pacific.


               I remember salty kisses and laughter

               And a dream of being together forever

               In a city of angels.


               I left it all for him, and now I have nothing,

               And him holding me, kissing me, loving me,

               Can’t end my mourning for home.


               The deep blue waters, the crystalline kingdom,

               Palaces from time out of mind, my ancient kin,

               And now I have only this swimming pool.


               And I look up at a clear twilight sky, burning bright,

               And float in warm and harsh and heavy water,

               And almost feel weightless and free again.



Coconut Rum

Coconut rum, too sweet,

as I sit on the edge of an

empty swimming pool,

lost in the curse of a dream.


Drunkeness can’t spin the sky

nor raise passions beaten down

or remind of her too sweet kisses,

or the night she came to me.


Nothing in the stars, nothing at all.

The lights of extinct worlds, dead rocks

and places colored like a child’s game

when they show them on TV.


I don’t feel anyone creeping up.

I don’t feel a demon on my shoulder.

Coconut rum will not chase away this feeling

with the warmth of intoxication.


What dreams I once knew lay in the stars,

but it’s all lost now, as if it never was at all.

I don’t dream of her, or her too sweet kisses.

I dream of silence, and coldness, and no more light.


The moon will not whisper words, though I am mad.

The stars don’t even contain unspeakable things.

All things unspeakable, exist solely in my thoughts.

Too sweet coconut rum sickens me, and the night is cold.

Body Surfing With Her

I have two boogie boards as I wait for her.

The sun is rising, distant, but coming quick.

The stars pull the lighted veil over their eyes,

as the new day begins, the day I spend with her.


She comes up just off shore, dark hair gleaming

in the soft light, her torquise skin glittering.

She smiles, and I smile back, and bring the boards

with me into the water, and kiss her softly.


She’s seen me surfing, seen me spend the day

on the waves, slowly coming closer, curious.

With her tail she can’t stand, but there’s more

than one way to ride the waves, to fly on the water.


She pulls me in her arms, pulls me close and tight.

I kiss her with tenderness and desire, a burning warmth.

I give her the boogie board, and she squeals with delight.

We head to the crashing and impatient waves.


All day we body surf these crystal blue waves,

riding down the glass curves of the endless waves.

She laughs as she rides on the waves, in this new way,

daughter of the sea and the bright soul I wish to be.


And as the sun pulls the black veil over it’s eyes,

and the stars remove the light so they can see,

we hold each other close, desperately tight, shivering,

knowing not when, she can come back again.

Blue and White

Blue and white,

sand and sky.

Blue and white,

eyes and skin.

Blue and white,

her bathing suit.


Summer soft

and waves cold.

Summer hot

and shivering hands

holding tight.

Waves of fortune.


Mermaid once,

she’s still sweet.

The roar of fire

and the lost days

are mine alone.

Listen for death.


Blue and white,

her colors now

as she swims free,

and I watch,

not the boy I was,

but a ghost.