late-night poem

the dark smoke spice of incense

headlights flashing on raw walls

my dark midnight company.

afternoon haiku

living easy with the mad

diversions of words

gray clouds steaming rain.

copyright 2007

married to a musician

winter is the season for arthritis, so

a recluse stays inside

dark horse & dripping faucets,

every light in the place is on,

I have even opened the microwave door

to take advantage of one more sunny bulb

I turn on the television, turn it down, turn it off;

I have a pattern when youre out playing your tunes

smoke & eat & smoke

& eat

it would seem Im hell bent on developing

either cancer or a fat ass, whichever

comes first, I suppose

I go to sleep & dream uneasy dreams

over & over in grainy black & white reality:

sweet secret melodies pouring out

over the crowd beneath fans that circulate

cigarette smoke & lust &

eyes like foxes to engage you

I take my paranoia very seriously &

have cultivated it for many years, but

thoughts of sitting social in a bar

engaging in the mind numbing tedium

of spiritless small talk

causes my heart & other organs

to quiver with dull rapid fear;

midnight is best between your own walls

protected from the burdens of loud noise &

clinking glasses, with the comfort of familiar shadows

but still Im anxious, waiting

for the truth of your key in our front door.

copyright 2006

originally published in Zygote in my Coffee