i was birthed on this very day.

BRB DYING... FUCK I LOVE THIS... 

I screwed up
But I can't get back to wait on my way
rain on
Like a bitter, evil king the first time
I thought that I was in heaven

Heaven
The first time
I thought that I was in
Heaven

Like a shotgun
Blew away my head
That's what it sounded like
Stumble like a nearly dead man
You make me
Cause I screwed up

1 x 1

Dry out my bones &

Hang my heart to rest/

With every sunset, my

Eyes seek forgiveness/

Stolen souls.

I’d love to touch your lips in the dead of winter.

     Pray with me:

     The wind erases my soul and gives me

A new one. No holes, no feelings.

               BRAND N E W.

An act of kindness? I sure don’t know.

The winter stole my old soul and I ain’t complaining.

Twenty Seven

I’m in love with the way the sky hugs the moon

At night. I’m in love with the way the stars smell after a midnight sunrise.

     A small poem

I couldn’t express to you

     The feeling I felt

When rain touched my soul for the first time.

      Pure bliss.

Red door.

With the rest of

The calendar year in my pocket, I shall

Now feed the cows.

Upon the souls of our grandparents,

This hate must end.

Before the rivers dry up, when the Sun

Swallows them whole.

With the rest of

The calendar year in my pocket, I shall

Now feed the cows.

bridle bones

When your body is too weak to carry

His sins. When the love from your

Sour soul hurts to give.

Your heart weeps at the

Foot of his bed.

A dozen dead roses

To put him to rest.

Three questions I just asked.

How do I exit a period of time

Without brushing my teeth against

The horrible things you have said?

How does one eat when their fingers

Have no feeling and their mind has

Been fried?

Where does time go when

The children are at home and the

Horses haven’t been fed?

Weak winds

Cover my lips with the wings of a bee

            Your secrets will never leave me.

The wind whispers, while the trees

Sway and crack.

Quiet ,

As the sun beats down on us, glistening

In the dead white snow.

My thoughts here have

Disintegrated.

cabin in the CT woods.

Into the mountains,

Isolated.

A deep, northern numb.

An overcast sky,

      An overcast mind.

Her opaline eyes meet mine.

Slipping into a dreary

        Dream.  

Where desolate

Roads warm my frigid heart.

A Bleak Connecticut Sky.

bare winter.

Kissing your silhouette

Lonely before the night ends.

The fire heats our souls.

Shadows from the Yellow Moon

                Follow your body’s

Outline, WHOLE.

Imagine a place with

No noise: too quiet to think.

Black roses would grow from

Your sins, deep down:

                Deeper than the

Bleak December Winter.

cucumbers

Eating the dirt from my shoes.

Selling my soul for used books.

When the music stops, the

End is creeping up.

Follow your Winter Heart:

                Graceful and elegant.

Shimmer in the dark.

Acting like a child, my heart

Sings for miles. Nothing here

Poet John Anster wrote,

"What you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it." 

from the book release last night ....

the smallest portion of me.

I just wanted to tell you that my heart is whole

With the berries we picked, the night the moonlight

Lite the fields GOLD. The moths swallow my loose

Teeth, the sheep are in my garden. Don’t take what you

Don’t need, leave some for the butterfly.

TONIGHT!!!

Collecting dead bugs since the second grade.

Life is a hurricane and tastes like a sunflower

With the touch of bark and crystal rain,

Pour her soul into a mug and let it sit.

Dead Numbers Painted on the Sky.

I wish I could paint like my great grandfather Frank.

Graceful colors blend together, melting my mind. Dainty:

As the paintbrush softly dances across the paper.

Seventeenth of December.

Where the moths sleep-

Where dreamers dance and lovers weep.

When the ice melts into a beautiful sky abyss.

Broken Thoughts scattered, tattered mind

Shooting stars and cold rain wine.

Making love to you is like chasing empty

Eyes down a snow covered road.

And there is no light in sight.

Time withers

my eyelids hide the secrets we keep from our mothers.

peel my skin back like the orange, suck my thoughts dry.

As mesmerizing as her pale skin may be, always remember

The color of the midnight sky.

Poem

I envy the wind that gets to touch your delicate skin.

As the sky cries: the angels and her mind grow brighter

With the candlestick her father gave her.

With LOVE.

Pollinate our love,

Shower emotions over us.

Rain pours and rushes in

As the walls melt, the room

Spins. I begin to forget

My reason and the name my

Mother gave me.

           

deep blue eyes.

Soak my soul in the dead of winter,

Wrap my whole body with the feathers 

from a hawk and a blanket of snow. 

Together we can grow the Spring Flowers.

Jasmine fields.

As I brush against the thorn of this rose,

            Trickle down the spine of your mind.

Blood: Warm as a light, dark as death.

Dripping,

D R I P P I N G,

DROP.

Counting words, counting the time on the CLOCK.

To start a fire you must gather your words

            Whole, hold the candlestick to your heart

And whisper the words of the hummingbird.

Softer than the feather of my backyard crow.

The white cedar branches sway and wind howls.

Every color but RED.

The abstract mind,

with colorful thoughts and opinions.

Conviction- lost tapes, lost minds.

           Corrupt files, expiration dates:

          BLACK AND WHITE.

Typewriter mind and sour souls.

Warm like the flame from my candle,

Think of spring with no flowers.

Crystal waves.

I feel like the sea on my bad days. Roaring in with emotions, letting

E v e r y t h i n g

            GO! as the sea devours the waves: NIGHTMARES.

Delicate as the waves that wash the shore clean.

A dozen agate roses.

Wilting away, my love seeps into your bad dreams.

Nightmares of peachless trees and blue storms.

You leave footprints behind you as your shadow follows.

elegance in the eye of the women.

as I’m watching the ice melt, the ideas sink, the minds think.

I see death in the distance, but he can’t take me yet.

There are too many flowers in my garden that seem dead.

Roses will lay me to rest, before the sea sweeps me away.

Winter is my soul.

As thick as porcelain snow,    

My wings continue to grow.

With summer thoughts in the

Dead of Winter- snow falls

From my mind. The inside is

Warm, with the crackle of

An evergreen fire.

Cavernous: the soul of this Child.

Drink the high seas, with the devil on my shoulder

I proceed to dance. The Wolf Moon means slumber.

As the river freezes over, an acorn drops.

I need Frames.

Crawling off your lips,

      I see lies. The color of the BLOOD MOON,

Pictures of shoes, roads and footprints.

When you are melting in between months,

The days feel like rain and the nights remind us

To pray. Snow is an unusual thing in Heaven.

I want to eat away your sickness so you can celebrate

Another Halloween.

OUTSIDE OUTSIDE

Sit outside, with snowflakes and newspapers

With dogs and garages. When the shovels

Come home, the coffee is brewing.

Kick your boots to the heater, drink

Your cold milk. The wood crackles in

The living room fireplace.

poem 13.

The glow of Jupiter’s Moon/

The sound of the Ocean’s voice/

The color of the December sky/

The echo of the Crow’s cry/

poem

I listen to the moon,

           I take notes when the seasons change.

My heart belongs to my backyard river.

          When the clouds rush in anxiety reaches my teeth,

to bring me higher than

The sky before the wind waves me goodbye.

I take it in, when I hear the tree growing.

          GROWING, 

G R O W I N G.

When the birds cry.

I don’t like it when it’s cold

          Inside my heart-

No noise, no sound, no soul.

I don’t like it when it’s cold

          With a mind full of snow

And a late summer-

I couldn’t imagine spring with no

Flowers.

          Set the table, set the flowers.

In the dirt we play, while mother slaves away

          In the kitchen, where love is made

And formed into edible surprises.

Forks on the left, spoons on the right.

Remember: Forks on the left,

Spoons on the right.

watch the moon follow us

If you travel with stones in 

your pockets how do you float home?

When the river water rises, 

where do the tree roots grow?

After the sun falls asleep 

and the stars shine, 

where does the moon hide?

happiest i am with a cup of hot tea and bee on my knee.

poem.

What a waste of time you are, selling me your soul for a

Bucket full of knees. You make me dance around the

Living room when no one is home, before dinner in

Between plates and spoons.

Bee, bee, busy CT bees.

Do you think I have enough bees to create a colony?

Living in the deep Connecticut woods, I can raise these bees.

I love the honey, I love the sound, busy little bees.

  

Clouds with a cold.

Sipping love off your lips while my body is hung out to dry.

On the line, it hangs for days. The breeze hits it gently.

Kiss my mind: the dreams disappear as months end.

At the riverbed I begin to build a bird's nest.

Choke on the stones we once threw/

Together our fingers dance in the moonlight/

Draw the shades, close your eyes and breathe/

Before we know it, we will all die/

Poem.

Perhaps it’s hard to breathe because the

Love inside my soul. Suffocates my body whole.

Bigger than the earth, deeper than a tree:

I love you until the end of time.

Dried out heart.

Premature love grows in my garden full of death,

The crows cry, the crows cry, the crying crows.

Scarlet secrets, overflowing, swimming in my mind.

The crows cry, the crows cry, the crying crows.

Ruby scars remind me of the formless chaos we share.

The crows cry, the crows cry, the crying crows.

 ........

I keep a basket near my bed at night for all my dreams/

Good and bad/ I keep a notebook near my heart all the time/

Black Ink, Blue Ink/ Crisp newspapers near my soul/ Pour

The months into a cup and let them choose/ Me or You/ Your or I/

leave me alone if you want me to be happy

Happiness is cutting my tongue on a rose thorn,

And eating the midnight stars.

Happiness is being alone in the mysterious dark woods,

When no one is around and it's easy to breathe. 

triangles.

Poke me with a feather,

My mother is still better,

At cutting the grass.

Take down the tree,

With the help a flea:

Before I eat this bee.

The rusty, ancient key:

Enter with a mouth full of peas

And a hot cup of tea.

very small pocket poem.

When a pen is held to my brain:

Your words, they slip down the drain.

Like silk against my thighs, light and delicate.

Eyes full of lies and lilies- smell the fresh December air. 

poem

Dripping off my lips

                                The secrets you gave me.

The gift of sight: so I can touch your cold heart.

Full Moon Eyes accompanied by a baby nose.

The mountains move when you wiggle your toes.

Take my hair, rip my skin but don’t rob me of my

Library.

twelve.

I told myself not to cry when it snows

And to hold my fear of rain, when it pours.

The lightening in my heart, set fire to the feelings

We shared. When the sky turns grey and the clouds are dense: Hold on to our fiery love as we celebrate seaborne dreams while the sun seeps into the Ocean.

Small poem 02.

I love you like the moon loves the sky

Like the clouds hold the stars in place.

I love you like the sun loves the earth

Like the trees swaying in the forest.

I love you like I could never love again.

Honestly. 

Skin of a kiwi.

Kiss me into the night

Arms wider than the sea

Fall into my heart

With every beat and breath

Your words I fall for

Before I hit the ground

Hold my head up

For the rough weather is

Coming.

poem for your soul or pocket.

Honey stuck to my brain, melting like ice  On a muggy day.

(Swaying back and forth)

Melting down the drain my love has expired like your attire.

(Swaying back and forth)

Sucking on dreams with no rain is like dancing with no feet.

(Swaying back and forth)

08 Pocket Poem.

My skull is full of knowledge

My skull is full of blood.

I can see where the road will

Take me, that’s why my seat belt

Is on. When the rivers meet, the

Children greet the Elderly.

Before I go home please make a

Stop at my favorite Oak Tree.

Remind me why I’m here again.

With the bad memories only,

Leaving blood stains for my Human

Self to clean. I see the shades are open,

So I am go in. Once the paint has dried

And the flowers begin to bloom,

Keep a dust broom handy, I just blew

The dust off my thoughts.

(It the river they go)

Poem forty five times three.

Staple my bad thoughts to a calendar,

Set it on fire and watch. Hold my hand

In hopes to find peace one day. Laying

Around a garden full of bees, my eyes

Wander through the thoughts and the

Stalks of grass. Through the afternoons

Full of jazz and daydreaming. With

Fear of being known, I crawl back into

My shell.

..

I like it when people are nice

When they have time to shave the ice.

Needle To The Brain.

Fly to me, my memories drawn across

The love filled sea. With flowers and

Islands in between. Fallen with the

Pollen stuck on my knees and the rain

That soaks my soul.

                        Take the thorns of this rose

And bake them in a pie of life. As the

North Star shines bright I remember my

Heart tonight.

A Pocket Poem #2.

Take just a sliver of my mind

and explain to me if you can tell the time.

Hours turn into days, where days

make months and years go by faster

Than the wind in the sky.

thoughts that taste like salt.

To make me smell the poppies again,

To rub the silk rose against my nose.

To feel LOVE again. When the Moon

Rises for you and I while we are younger

Than the scent of the sea. With rocks

And waves that comb my hair.

Scattered brain, scattered me.

Kiss me on the mouth,

Before the berries ripen

And the ice melts my

Cold soul. December is

A nice time of year to

Wear your thoughts.

Sick as a parrot.

I died and I was reborn in our life when you took your eyes off me.

My body may not be on display, but my mind is open for all of our days.

Something worth more than just a vase of flowers, my mind explores

The nature you are afraid of. When all is said and done, I come first

And no one else. The QUEEN I am, with my head held high and gold

Shimmer thoughts run down my mind. Trust me, I know when you’re

Lurking and gazing. I am not at all stupid. My soul crumbles when

I realize you see someone else. To me the world is ours and only

Ours. All I can see is you and me and our human bodies, free. Delicate

My heart may be, hold my hands for I am weak when I see my man’s

Eyes wandering.

Stew.

Can you love someone with a black soul?

When the heart has no control?

Pulling strings over a violin, music fills

The room. Feelings of despair and feelings

Of rust. The feeling of the sea beneath

My rug burned knees. Between bees and

Roses secrets lay still. It’s the morning

Before my funeral, can you feel my warm

Skin linger into the room while the women

Weep and the men mourn. Who cares

For the dinner rolls when there is

French Bread. 

I FEEL LIKE RUSTY BANANA PEELS RN

Cat food.

Licking the dust

That grows between us.

You left the front door open

Which in return gave me a frozen heart.

It rains love on Tuesdays while my cat sleeps.

The noise the train makes when it hits the tracks:

I LOVE THAT.

Eat my brains and tell me I’m blind

Tuck my body into the blanket of snow

With the birds and the bears.

With things stuck in my teeth, like

Vowels and words we don’t use.

Timing the death of my own soul, is

Like eating soup cold.

a super tiny pocket poem.

When my mother found out that 

I stole my cats teeth and I 

kept them in a jar, she took 

away my guitar for years and 

she won’t let me eat snow.

POEM OF THE DEAD.

Kill me with nothing- sting me like a bee.

Pollen sweat and Knick knacks, this month

Seems like a sad Winter. When the Sun

Is out my mind begins to wander. Sticking to

The side of walls, down the drain like

Kitchen water. Eat the nickels and don’t

Ask why, your Father is dead in the shed.

"nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but meeeee"

Number two pencil

To seek love is to find a white rose in the forest.

With the thorns that bite, the men that fight.

Love never ends like sentences or books should, It only takes 

Your time. Blind like the old mice but stronger than

Cement. Holding on to this love is like eating ice cubes

In the dark.

Poem 920

I’m sorry I can’t feel your tongue and I can’t take your pain away.

I’m sorry you have to deal with the bees past midnight and the

Stars wake you up. When the grass grows I will mow your garden

With a knife and spoon. The blood dripping from my chin

Is not mine, just like the man in my bed. I want to eat the scabs

Your mother picked and I want to dance with the moon.

Wearing nothing but my mind on this muddled morning,

Brighter than the North Star, her eyes shine.

Eyes through the blinds.

Little did we know, our neighbor was a murderer.

With a garden full of knives and a brick house,

His eyes make me feel scared. When the icicles

From the house fall before the stars come out,

Bring me my pack of smokes and a good book.

The guy next door has a dog and a hog but he

Won’t sell me his pine logs. Something strange about

A man, who loves pine and can’t stand the snow.

He gets sick when it rains and he cries when the snow

Glows. The guy is a killer, I can just smell it on his tongue.

He wipes his shoes with a white cotton towel every

Night, while his dog watches and eats a mouse.

This man is a killer he owns a red couch. His car

Is never dirty, he wears his hat low. Mom, my neighbor

Is the one who killed me.