A Prick

Posted on June 22, 2017

A teeny tiny pin prick pricked

And so the skin grew thicker


And two more pricks there pricked their prick

And so the skin grew quicker


And rise in weight and temperature

The skin began to callous


Till all the pricks were no more felt

The skin fell numb save malice


For skin too thick can turn itself

Quite into what it fears


A tiny prick will come and go

But skin can last for years

Categories: poetry

All of The Above

Posted on June 22, 2017

White as salt

        or Black as pepper

Sand is tiny colored rocks

        and stars are bright specks up above


Freckles are dust on skin

      dust is skin that's dead and been

Dust is stars and freckles and scars

      but live skin is what we live in


And the two dots in our eyes

    will never really see

If we are pepper, salt, or stars

    or maybe all of the above



Categories: poetry

The Heart to the Brain

Posted on March 05, 2017
"I know you dont trust me!" screamed the heart to the brain.
"We don't get along, you and I. We are so different:
 I don't use words and sentences and logic, like you do, so you don't trust me
But as we are inseperable in this lockstep, allow me to open your mind:
I sense danger before you do. 
I feel love first before you can even comprehend it.
When you least expect it, I bring you peace and forgiveness
while you are still comprehending the anger
I am so far ahead of you, dear brain
I beat in a steadfast rhythm 
like the focused tortoise 
that only knows truth, trust, and patience
I feel what you don't know yet
So please give me the steering wheel 
And be quiet for a little while.
Because I know more than you think."
Categories: poetry

Our Sweet Word FEMINISM Is Tired (a poem on new times and new words)

Posted on December 12, 2016


So the word "FEMINISM"
I like what you stand for

I don't like your -ism.
I don't like your exclusivity
I don't like how
The very nature of you, dear dear word,
Polarizes us

The innate nature of you
Tells us
That it is only women
Who are part of this

Well. The dance, my dear word,
Is not strictly feminine
The fight Is not
Ours alone.

The inequality is felt
By both "sides" (if there are sides)
of the
masculine AND feminine

You, my sweet, powerful, enchantress-of-word, who gave our mothers
motive and voice,
Have moved us into our present.

Thank you.

For all we know
You helped give gentle rise to
LGBQT people
Who wished to move into the light

You taught us,
both men and women
That it's ok
To cry.

But now, we are in the present
That you birthed
And we need new words
To hold us ALL now

For we are not so much
Ruled by our sex
As we are
By our spirits

And our spirits are housed
In these bodies
And these bodies now
Identify with pink as man
Or trucks as woman

And, so, dear sweet, tired word, stay your values but rest your bones.

Teach us now
The power of the words
And we will make you proud.

Categories: poetry

A Woman's Bath

Posted on October 20, 2016

A Woman’s Bath


This woman’s bath of mine

A self-inflicted Lulluby


A chance to L E T  G O

In a womb of our Creation


Your bath is hot fluid forgiveness

                    the body’s ease


A bath is a replication of your






Love, well wishes, and peace


For their daughters

X forever back

Forever forward


And on we truly LIVE

Beyond our mother's hot warm wet bath.

Categories: poetry

The Siren's Choice

Posted on September 04, 2016

The Siren's Choice

The Siren is many things. Sort of like the tide She never meant to harm.

But she is she and she

Came into the world above with legs, with curious soft tissues Inside, laying eggs

But water is as water does and water

Rises and rose around her Pushing on her lungs Pulling on her spine Speaking many tongues

And confusion is confusing and confusion

Pulled her under and sink she finally did and for a minute her eyelids closed their lids

But living is what living is and life

Would not let her die or let her live So of her floundering pruny limbs

Two, she decided, would become A pair of fins





Categories: poetry

Pudenda Love Poem

Posted on September 01, 2016

Don’t fall in love with my genitals
Fall in love with my jokes: because the greatest joke is that generally we all have genitals
Don’t fall in love with my genius
Fall in love with my mistakes: the ones you hate and the ones that worked out accidentally

Don’t fall in love with my benign smile
Fall in love with the world that gave me that smile and be wary when it’s upside down
Don’t fall in love with my beauty
Fall in love with my changes: with the tides of water and blood in this hot, living thing of me

Don’t fall in love with me externally
Fall in love with the ghosts that operate my insides mysteriously and made these acne scars
Don’t fall in love at me; fall in love through me 
Fall in love with my humanness, and baby, you’ll fall in love with yours

(written by the river, and me sitting next to it, swatting mosquitos)

Categories: poetry