There is more to be gained from uncertainty.

two buck chuck

what a dirty soul
that pathetic old man
always so full of
all those things
that leave us empty-
gasping for air
we rub at the
smudges, so
many blind eyes
they turn away
but his words,
his desolation
tug at the
core (he made it
so familiar)
amidst the grime
and all the sin
he moved us
we felt him

"sullen girl"

who said that you cannot be
at once the elephant and also
the mouse?

the biggest and the most small
quite impossibly i find myself
here and almost a little bit
over there
all complete; but also cavernous
like a sigh, a doubt
the wall that fell

the fish & the sea

sometimes we sink even further as
we take big steps to move forward
leaps that create these distances
that shrink the faith and pose
questions of purpose, of truth

we floated too far this time
only to be swept away and
stained with the permanence of
mediocrity and the thin shell
of substance and proof

maybe we lost the point
and the sting it burns but
this comfort keeps me warm
and it's not so bad really
everything really does shrink
when seen from so far away

cookie fortune

those pretty eyes of yours never miss anything
you look around and flutter those eyelashes
things come to you and if they don't
you sit and wait and you are wasting

you just flutter
and unlike the brave little caterpillar
no one will ever see you fly out
what happened to all those colors
that will never feel the sun or
the top of all those trees

Ahhh, yes.

Un bon jour

dolly girl

you better run, little girl
use those sexy legs for
something other than
your own destruction
let them carry you
away from this
your very own
personal sabotage
they lied to you
pretty, pretty
because nothing
is easy especially
when you look
like a doll and
act like one,
too
not even the dogs
will come when
you call and
no one would ever
get grass stains
for you

screams are silenced
by the echo of
no one cares, really
so brush it off and
keep trying to
lure them in with
your tacky lip gloss
and that makeup
that runs and it
stains their pillowcases
you know you leave
your mark and
they kiss their wives
with the mouths
that went to
your fountain of youth
oh you poor, poor
lovely damaged creature
they lied to you
and you hoped
that maybe this
would only last
until the sunrise
but no, it's here
dancing with dawn

what bruises that
porcelain skin? and those
big, empty brown eyes?
searching, never finding
crying but no one
hears