free

some day
the flashdance queen
will come out
of what was once
you and me

Suspended

There is a moment
when time stops
when the clock explodes
and you are suspended
by the second hand
when the battery dies
and that second hand
pauses
holding you up
threatening
to drop you
back into the monotonous
tick tock tick tock
of motion.
But
there is that moment
when time stops,
when time ceases to
control the rules of existance
and you fall, hang, live
suspended in passion,
in breath,
with eyes watching
waiting
for the moment
when it all begins
again.
Echos of that
tick tock tick tock
fade to black
fade to light
breaking the
boundries of
rules
that have governed
time.
There is a moment
of stillness
that lasts
a second, a minute,
a hour, a day.
Stillness that
captures
passion, breath
the life
snapshots that
sometimes, often times
are missed
by the second hand
in its humdrum
tick tock tick tock
of time.
But there are the moments
when all bets are off,
the rules have been
shattered
and stillness is
inevetible.

Pucker Up

A quick note to one Salvador Dali:

You scare me.
I've seen your paintings
the broken black telephones hung from dead and decaying trees,
swans made of bones with the souls of dancers trapped in their rib cages,
not to mention the red, boiled lobster...phone???
Who knows. All I know is that
your exhibits make my head spin
to the point where I have to sit down.
Which I did, on one lush, plush, crimson sofa at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
I sat, my head spinning, until approached by a security guard who said,
"Miss, your sitting on the exhibit."
Oh!!!
I look and there, two lush, plush crimson lips of one Mae West.
Mae West, a luscious vaudeville star
who, like Marilyn Monroe captivated her audiences with
the power of her body.
By selling the movement of her hips, her lush red lips, and her soul
Mae West climbed to the top, and remains there
a suspended goddess.
To think, my ass and her class.
My ass and her class.
My ass and her class.
In that moment, Salvador Dali, my head stopped spinning
and I thought...

Pucker up Mae West,
there’s something in the water.

Oil on the surface
beautiful in its separateness,
yet deadly in its own right.

Covering the surface,
oil is always one to reflect the light.

Pucker up Mae West
there’s something under my skin.

Relentless as probing fingers
pushing
driving
me
to become
the oil,
to reflect the light
and to … sep - a - rate.

Pucker up Mae West
I’m the one to watch.

With just one,
simple promise -
I am the oil
deadly in my own right.
discrete, all-knowing,
guilty in my
reflection… of the light.

So, pucker up Mae West.
You fooled them once,
I can do it twice.
Pucker up
Pucker up

Kiss your legend
while I kiss my soul

goodbye.

City Paper

(Three Haikus)

The Dove
My love, one true love
you are the wings white and bright –
that fly peace above.


The Pigeon
Spreading diseases
flying rat of New York City:
you consume my heart.


The Peacock
Dance it, strut your stuff,
get me hot, all riled up.
Here I come, undone.

A Simple Ploy

He is a snake-eyed, coiled boy
a grace-less, sexy, comic
who tickles the girls. A feathered toy.

His manner is covertly coy,
to take the girls to bed each day.
He is a snake-eyed, coiled boy.

In Starbucks he calls: Make it soy!!!
A grande, three pump, soy latte
that tickles the girls; a feathered toy.

His slick, quick moves slide in - destroy
even the most tantric play-
He is a snake-eyed, coiled boy.

He divides the girls, this subtle boy-
and war begins - dividing way,
it tickles the girls; a feathered toy.

He loves, and revels the mask of Boy,
hiding in wait – a simple ploy
He is a snake-eyed, coiled boy
tickling the girls. A feathered toy.