Sunday, September 2, 2012

Four Stanza Haiku

Dear mister
I am not your girl, your sister,
so leave off;

go and buy
another special someone
the price of bed.

Throw me twenty
just don't expect to see
any panty.

I'm not tall
or skinny, I'm none too blonde,
but I'm here--
serving beer.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

The Hunt

Yes ma’am I’m hard
cut from stone, hard
worker and smart too.
You want me
to lick table clean?
Sure sure, can do.

Yes I go to college
and leave
with Honors, ivy leaf.
wrote many papers,
kissed limestone
statues of tall tall men.
Not as pretty as you!

but I will work for you,
sure, sure, for not much.
I know how to clean
the deep fry
and write you poems
for appetizer, try one.

Hello? Hi it’s me
again, I called last week
remember me
yes, I know you,
the sushi house.
Oh I eat sushi so much,
can roll a mean one,
and drink 10 sake box.
Monday, eight-fifteen?

At Whom It Should Concern
in Human Resources:
I would make great
typist and phone-talker.
I phone talk all the time!

Wait, don’t go!
not ladyfriend talk,
but a phone professional
I am. Ps and Qs are best
quality that I keep
in my pockets, 
for you the boss to use
his or her own
tidy hankerchief. Here it is!

That is how loyal I would be
for you
at your great big company
that does that one marketing thing
I’m so curious about.
Tell me, please, more about you,
what it is exactly that you do.

Hi, I call you back?
I spilled rice and beans
in my lap.

Ooh, lookee here,
I found your number on the job board
at 7th and West.
Walk the dog
clean the toilet
soft wipe of ass?
yes, please, ma’am,
this I want more of.
I will be the best worker
you find, hands down. 

Sure, let me know
I would love to hear from you
and here is my number, it's:

Monday, April 30, 2012

Loose Villanelle.

Watching you watch me, I make tea.
I fade out of sight, your anchor
behind the door. You couldn’t see,

but heard the screams of water
molecules turned angry vapor
screaming at me making tea.

Sometimes we drag on the floor.
Other days go on with toil and labor
behind a door we cannot see.

Here pages turn. Clocks stop. Hearts slow.
And sometimes we are boring:
sitting in chairs, screaming, and making tea.

Grueling on we grind away
at each page, the same one read yesterday,
the day before, and the one we didn’t see.

Please don’t go when you expire,
your life the flowers I closed
between a book to dry, off-white and fair.
I want to watch you watching me
from behind the door.
I want to have you to see.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Birthday tree.

You are my
this is my
my pretty plastic
blue boat that
I got
for my day
of birth.
Here it is.

They thought
I was a
boy, but I
was not. I
did not need

My grandma, she
had a dream
of me, one night.
I was a girl.
I am a woman.

She gave me
a tree, a birthday
tree, red japanese fingers,
spindly leaves that land,

still bluster down
to the dry grass
behind my parent's house.
The root ball
is too large to move now.
Only twenty-two,
it lives in its grave.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

His problem

It wraps around all
wrapped around his
hard too
grips it
with a force,

caresses the groin
all muscle
tail and sinew
body not
to mention

black eyes.

Therein lies

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

I am from the two children

kissing in the basement

underneath hallelujahs

and choirs,

and warbling sopranos

with pink nails.

I am from you, from the deep red

of you, from the caves of your heart

that wanted me,

that kept me.

From the asbestos to the linoleum,

I am from the basement and the bed,

from your jeans that widened,

from your hair that whitened,

from your arms still strong,

smelling cold cream.

I am from the maple tree

that was doomed to fall

but never did. The tree lost

a limb, soft wood inside,

drops damp leaves, is

a raccoon bed at night.

Its voice is the ocean

in autumn windstorms.

I am from mourning,

from celebration,

from bowls of cereal spilled

on the floor and crunched underfoot.

I ate, I destroyed,

and you cleaned the floor

with a wet cloth.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

I were to give grace;

if I were to do that

that thing

that thingy-thing that

may seem a bit silly

to closed and chilly me,

that would help you,

I think.

You, curled into a C.