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Tuesday, January 24, 2017


We face each other, but maybe
you are blinded by the sun, maybe
that's all you can see. It burns and
you scream and the noise is so loud
I cover my ears. Blind and deaf, 
funhouse mirror women, sometimes
we switch sides, but until we stand
side by side, we will remain

Thursday, December 8, 2016


Tendu, plie, releve, every day
the barre is the same. They say
not to expect a change, don’t hope
he will fill the frame again.
Zelda Sayre, no one is there.
The white coats float like clouds
hiding lightning and no training,
no strength can steel you to the shock.
Stop spinning, stop turning. You’ve

lost your spot and the door is warm.

Friday, November 11, 2016



I hear myself talking
and know that it is happening,
it must be, I somehow got
into my car and even though
I wanted to drive into a tree
I stopped at the lights, and,
more the miracle, started again.
I had my hair done because
I keep my appointments
and Atlanta is covered in fog
so you can almost believe
humor still lives somewhere.
These people around me, some
of them have to have chosen fear
and anger, even if they seem kind,
that is the Southern way, but now
it is America, the monsters
are out of the closet and
they've thrown off their hoods and
they are proud. They have won.
So I got my hair done, but
my foot wanted to plunge right,
to use gas to escape. Everyone
would believe it's an accident.
We all know women can't drive.

Thursday, November 10, 2016

Bleakest Beauty

We're wet and weak for bleakest beauty,
that sweet second lick as ice cream melts.
Sunsets and horizons, unreachable edges,
transient fading frustrations agitate
and stimulate fantasy to frenzy.
Our country is a burning flag,
the dying blaze of what was grace.

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Election Day

Election Day

I've lived my life to end it, neatly,
since the day the sky fell, or maybe
even always. I shrugged off strings,
neither married nor marionette, slept
in a room with one door, my cold feet
never far from the floor. Some nights
I screamed at shadows, dared the steps
to echo closer. Resigned to a run, I
expected ugliness eventually.
But then you. Hope, courage, all
those evolving energies that expose
our underbellies, leave us open.
The roots make it hard to hide,
and I wear shame like a guilty glutton
under dressing room lights.
I forgot this was coming.
I forgot the world was out there.

Friday, July 29, 2016

Words words words

We have words. We had words.
Sweating, longing, urgent yearning,
or blink-skimming skirt-swishing,
but there are words. There were words.
Blood thrums through language, life
survives through the mind behind.
A blank page is teasing lingerie,
waiting to be stretched and torn.

Monday, June 13, 2016

Ostriches and parrots

I don't want this to be pretty:
death measured in emoticons,
ping pong internet debated, or
generously glazed by photo filters.
We are more than ostriches and parrots,
hibernation and hyenas. That's not
the shape of a real heart.