Parasite

Like a tapeworm you have slithered
into my life
settling yourself cozily
beneath my skin.

You use your gaping mouth
to suck the life force out of me.
Slowly draining me of my strength.

My skin is gray
my eyes, sunken.

Why, thank you love.
But I will no longer let you try to kill me.
I am better than you.

Hello Thursday

Icy clouds fall
splashing roar on black
yellow paint with the contrary tendency
to drip into pools of oil
light blue lightning
slips past brick
and rumbling grey
a gold wall appears
red lights blinding
squealing, screaming, struggling
pulling back on rubber
and slowly, peace.

Five

Back and forth
you shake me
like
the carnival's green and gold viking ship
(with just as much nauseousness)

Swing left
loving, compassionate
Swing right
cold, calculating
you thumb the ignition button with glee

You are fresh coffee
and rainwater

leaving moderation in your dust.

How the Rain Falls

Why do we hate?
Why do the children of today
have to know what it is to discriminate?
Why do they even have to know the meanings
of the words bigotry and race?
Why is it a race
to the top
without a second look, a second thought
of the people we have stepped on
the lives we have crushed.

Why do I deserve to know hate?
Why do the words shoot, terrorize, and bully
make so much sense
while love, honor, and cherish
seem like the lines
of a long forgotten song.

Look in their eyes!

the eight year old at recess
the eighteen year old in college;
they have seen violence


the twenty-five year old at a new job
the eighty-five year old enjoying retirement
they have felt the swift blows of judgement

Judgement, unlike understanding
falls down like rain.

Where I'm From

I am from hardwood floors

From candles and glass

I am from the big backyard       

With the perfect swing for sleeping in the sun

I am from the five gardens

The apple tree

Whose long gone limbs I remember

As if they were my own

I’m from Secret Santa and freckles

From Veronica and Michael

I’m from loud mouths and short tempers

And from long weekly road trips

On The Cross Bronx Expressway

I’m from do more and work harder

And family first

I’m from back alleys and green mountains

Thin-crust pizza and pot roast

From a stolen station wagon      

Filled with Christmas presents

Floral printed photo albums

Splayed across the house

Like art.

Congratulations, You

YOU are the wrecking ball of lives
demolishing everything in sight

YOU are the kid who feels powerless
taking a magnifying glass to a family of ants

YOU are the California wildfire
burning indiscriminately

YOU are the bitter ice
that chokes the life out of spring grass

YOU are the glaring, red 'F'
crippling the high-achiever

YOU are the hot sun
that burns up cool, white skin

YOU are destruction
in an impressively deceiving package.

I Dabble in Haiku

you are perfect God
i will share you with the world
share of your glory.