you’ll never know what secret thoughts I think,

entertain; as my eyes match my fogged up

window.  catch myself against the side to

keep from falling; falling from all my damn

sobbing.  secret thoughts to make this hell end.

awful thoughts, selfish thoughts.  the banana

leaves try earnestly to shake me from my

disturbing trance.  those distant violins

try to keep me awake.  they beg me to

follow their sorrow, but they have no clue

what’s in store for my crazy tomorrows.

you’ll never know what secret thoughts I think;

dark thoughts that would make you run, make you sink.


A few days ago she held the branches like a parasol – shielding her face from the heat she once loved, lived for even.  This same woman used to plant her face against the icy window on a February afternoon – just to sense its glow.  Close her eyes and envision the red.  Remember the way grass felt under her bare feet – lick her lips recollecting the smell of water leaving a garden hose.  Mutter under her breath, wishing winter to leave – she was sick of seeing dead leaves.

This woman now settled in the place of perpetual summer – feels the all too familiar chill to her bones.  She puts on extra layers while the lizards lie like statues at her feet. Watches the hawks bounce on the January winds and forget that she is driving.  Digs out her grandmother’s quilt from her closet (the quilt of pale random squares, playful tufts of thread, and white downy backing), and she will remember the sweet dreams of her youth.

Winter found its way to her, and she just wants to be warm again; be happy again.  She wants to remember what hopes brought her to the land of palms.  Stop cursing the march of time.  Mutter under her breath, and wish winter to leave – she was sick of certain memories.  Be grateful that her winter really isn’t winter; except for right now.


washed ashore, no breath left.  rocked to death, their

life emptied into the torturous sea

that swallowed them.  promising them lives, but

it brought them back against the wood, against

the rocks.  their pale faces charred from the sun,

their thinning brows white with salt.  their hopeful

black hair tangled with the splinters, their bones

rattling, their bones done.  I pray God saved them,

even if they didn’t believe.  please let

there be some mercy in that mystery.

but I’m afraid there are more coming,  more

running, being chased, fearful, while ever

so mournful.  lost ones being swallowed up

by the sea, washed ashore with no breath left.

la manie

it’s nothing, it’s everything

it’s the stuff fraying at the edges

it’s the goo left in-between


try to outwit it, run and escape it

but it’s clever, it’s faster

go blind when that mania warps shit


it’s nothing, it’s everything

the ailment that’s in your brain

leaving us stuck in-between


kneeling, praying

think it’s raining


it’s only my tears

hitting the hardwood

falling heavier than

I thought they could


they’ve taken on a

life of their own

my tear drops crying back to me

wanting to bring me home


my tear drops know that

I can’t even speak

can’t even pray

but they know

He knows my thoughts

I don’t have anything

new to say


kneeling, praying


all the while

thinking it’s raining




making me hunger for winter

the way the marble meets the sleepy sun’s

rouge that lingers in the evening

causing pangs I didn’t even know existed

thought I had my fill many years ago

when my feet were frozen to the ground

when I was surviving waist-high

in that frigid, blinding snow


when you took my hand you let your fingers

linger on mine a little longer than usual

made me think you were saying goodbye

much like

when you hold the hand

of a loved one that’s about to die


couldn’t be good news I’d think,

the way you just left me

watched you walk away

one part of me not caring

the other part wanting you to stay


gone and back again

moss tangled, lingering down their branches

beautiful, flowing ribbons of brown

rows and rows and rows of them

massive nest of that moss

ushered us out of the state

while the giant water storm

she spins and waits


coming back those tangled masses of feathery moss

looked more like decapitated heads

with their dried blood

and muddy footprints all around

the wind beaten ground

evidence that they fought

proof that they tried to run

a far cry from the trees we left behind

the ones with the beautiful crowns

standing tall, waiting for the change

caused a flood of memories to rush back to me

overwhelm me

made me not want to return to my sunshine state


we did and here we are

44 hours we spent in that car

back to this

back to the same


red chameleon beckoned me out 

entranced me with its glossy glaze

matched the blood that fell from me

walked past the broken grill

with the torn black cover

said hello to the baby leaves 


let the purple tendrils wrap themselves 

around my knees

“Stay with us forever!”

I pretend to hear them plead

What beautiful, caring creatures – I think 

look up at the black

feel the moisture run down my back

marvel that it’s too humid to even breathe

watch the red chameleon crawl into

a place that I cannot go 

we all can’t be Alice that gets to fall

into that glorious rabbit hole 

look away – rip my eyes from its gaze

feel the purple tendrils unwrap their grip

from my knees 

go back into my crumbling house

ignore their saddened stance

ignore their fictitious pleas


that foam hung around for a long time

this time

tickled my arms

tickled my nose

so I couldn’t breathe

reminded me of that time long ago

I held my breath when I was born

held it so long

that they told him I died


when he told that story

it was the only time

I ever saw him cry