nectarine man

cardboard box bearing
nectar of the gods.
ordinarily bananas or apples
today: historical highlight.
i hold it
purple, juicy gem of the
fruits --
"they" unlock.
bolted doors of resentment.
fuzzy skin to
mouth
my street years
disappear.
i'm a king.
no more homeless nights.
i can afford fruit.
dignity.
family.
heart swells
a giant balloon --
bursts,
hands squeeze
tight
juice drips like my
tears
kingdom
falls in
piles, puddles
on the table
lick my fingers
and pick up the
pieces.
taste of
heaven.

playmate

beautiful man-
soul
soft boy-heart
in you my fears, my
needs depart
hold my hand, believe my
creed
teach me how to laugh and
bleed
send me to the
stars in style
buy me flowers, run a mile
conquer mountains, climb a
tree
sail the oceans, swim the
sea
crawl into a hole
and wait
the coming dawn,
our friendly fate
the need to be with you
is vast
the loneliness i've felt
is past
but don't ask anything
of me
i'm hollow, no identity

relativity

incessant knocking.
glance at the clock, 4:30 a.m.
frantic falling out of bed splashing light into the house
flinging open the door. my brother, bearded and
smiling, his beautiful brown-haired girl, timid, apologetic.
beds slapped together, pillows puffed, small verbalities, all the while -- is this a dream?
visions of rest -- we stumble around in
awkward humanness until we find our beds and once again,
master sleep.

field of dreams

ink-black night with icing-sugar stars.
she laughs hysterically in the backseat, pulling at the broken door handle and streaking licorice across the glass.

the other (could be her sister) stares silently, vertically, profoundly, thinking of her next joint.
they can't see the water dripping from my eyes. hear the panicy prayers from my pit or know how desperate i feel.
there is no God, they whisper. you're spending your life on nothing.
another chuckle and then, stunned stupor. they stare. i back up the car and they shiver.
in a field laced with milky moonlight, you're waiting.
shining.
humble farmer, awesome God, you've come for them.

butterfly wings

i'm carried
by a married
embrace
i'm balanced
by the dance
of love
we're performing
(and deforming?)
side swipe kisses
tender moment blisses
oh give me
the courage to
stirrup the pain
if i ever find the stain
of death on
your breath
to fly away
on
butterfly wings

inside these walls

for the first time in awhile it felt right. me on the cold pew, my husband close beside cupping my hand and a strange lady smiling at me from the other side. i sang, i listened, i learned, and i appreciated. warmth in a wierd sense, a spirit-sense, knitting me to these broken threads. together we wove an intricate pattern. bright, woolen quilt of dark patches and split seams. church.

pregnant dreams

it's hiccuping, the young mother laughed and placed fingers fondly upon bulging belly. inside, life stirred. inside, children unravelled and marvelled at beginnings. outside, the world rotated -- one giant belly holding life giving birth to death and then, re-birth in another realm. century-old cycle. synonomous scenario. the wind stirred her hair, played against her rosy cheeks and lifted her lips into a serene smile. the mona lisa mother.

divine collision

i live for
miracle
moments.
when
deity and
man collide
through
gentleness
compassion
faithfulness
love
fusing hope
onto a
mural of madness
making sense
of the
chaotic
calming the
storms of
cynicism.
moments
that save
me.
may i be
that
miracle.

sunrise

the weather is weepy and worn. reflective of the mood i rained upon him. instead of passion, spite. instead of love, hate. washed-out and burnt-out i lash out in desperate fury for some sense of control.
he sits in silence. mourning. drenched in tears like the window-pane my pain is unbearable. turn his face kiss it. last resort. words only wound. he timidily looks in my eyes, windows of the soul he calls them. Crayola-colours of yellow purple and orange streak the car and we start to drive. never looking back.

do you see?

with a glance
moonbeams dance
cliffs collide
with your stride
waters waver
as you labour
tirelessly tending
deity -- bending
but still they suffer
where's the buffer
where's the grace
in your face
manna, fish
answer to their wish
tummies bloated
dreams demoted
daddies leaving
children cleaving
to temptation
bring redemption
to this place

flesh of her womb

my sisters are moving to australia. my mother is also heading south, towards despair. her babies are so big, so capable of caressing life into their own shape and size she feels like a cling-on. yet cling she does because they are hers -- flesh of her womb, woven from her genes. tired of always letting go, fatigued by her own feelings she runs. shafts of golden wheat crowd her as she races the rows, cries with the crows, dies to herself. we all watch her return, hair tousled, eyes wild, hands calmly at her side. that's all, she whispers, then falls by the pond. her babies stroke her hair -- there, there. is it all too much to bear?

paradox

eyebrow raised i query, "let you inside? not sure how" then slam shut my heart-hinges and walk away. so scared of being bared before man; so afraid of being tagged with titles. so needy of love -- heart ajar, from afar. with my confident swagger i conquer the day, then fall into homelessness and weep. so alone. so at fault.

nomadic spirit

tiny hands in
open palms
resting testing
the book of psalms
boldly weeping
leaping forward
mastering weakness
mustering courage
tripping along the
path you've paved
trusting despite
my sin i'm saved
till the gates i
come across
till the day i
count life's loss
my biggest gain
for all the pain
crawling tired
towards your lap
pondering nothing
turning the tap
on -- living water
drinking deep
hearing your praises
falling asleep.

quote

Karen-age 7
When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.

street lady

a purple buttterfly rests on my shoulder as i lean over the railing. a distorted reflection stares back. i shrug, wrap my body in a blanket and walk the streets of new york city. today maybe i'll ride the carousal, or eat cotton candy and laugh at the children who don't get any. or maybe i'll give them mine. maybe i'll climb a birch tree and swing low sweet chariot near the faces of all the strangers who never look up. i reach the park and see roger, my friend in rags who eats from my garbage can. i don't mind there's enough for the both of us. suddenly the clouds are cotton candy and i'm flat on the ground staring into my destiny. and i laugh. my spirit rises like the purple butterfly while the people pass me by.

handle with care

once upon a time, the china doll whispered, i was useful. squeezed to death, decorated, set out on display. blinking blue tears away she glanced at the discarded take-out cartons, cigarette packages, cardboard and shattered beer bottles. smoothing out her lace and ribbons, tossing her curls, she lowered lengthy lashes and willed away the nightmare. who needs anyone? she thought then brought hands to face and wept so hard her body broke. on her feet, the sticker stuck: fragile, handle with care.

summer solace

the wind smelled like strawberries, whisking up whip-cream clouds and lemon-yellow custard. i lay on the grass, body stretched like laundry drying in the summer's heat. two butterflies wings like silk romanced each other on a blade of grass, then flew off. a grasshopper greedily gobbled up ground, while birds nested and nestled and nourished my ears with song. my wrinkles slid away, and i was only 5 again, dancing in delirium. that night i saw them lay my body to rest under rosebud stars. my spirit laughed outloud and whisked up some delicious clouds. this was my meadow.