Monday, May 30, 2011


doubled and layered
coiled and stretched
eye-stinging, mouth-watering
yellowed and blanched
smile on smile
frown upon frown
movement on movement
all fall down

Monday, May 23, 2011


  Did you know I was walking behind you?
I matched my footprints to yours
       heel to heel
       toe to toe
We both had the same wide foot
  with a little curve on the instep
  and a high arch
It took great concentration
to match our steps

Did you know I was so dedicated?
  I was watching the steps so closely
  matching every little line
I did not realize or understand
when your steps changed.
       the curve of claw
       the thrust of bone
       the thread of blood
I stepped out quietly and put my shoes back on
  of course,
       I do not think you ever knew I followed.

Monday, May 16, 2011

You're still here?

Really? Well, wasn't that fun? Aren't you glad you didn't know me as a college student? A real bundle of laughs, that was me (-:)

Well, let's move on to some of the poems I wrote for it but that didn't end up in the Communal Sight group. In case you expecting another cohesive group, sorry! That's the only cycle-ish thing I ever did.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Communal Sight #11: Reflections

I move more cautiously
than I once did.
It is unprofitable to meditate
upon what might have been
I’d rather know
Yes. Yes, I’d rather know
that all faces hide still masks.

I see how the faces
change behind my quickening run
I hold no merit in the frozen paper
            carved, painted, glistening, lovely
that dwells inside my own quick-smiling warmth
It’s quite as strange to me as I’m to you
            I wonder.
If our masks came out, took over,
would we be better off?
or would we turn inward on our own selves and die?
that might be my own mask speaking
  down! Good girl. Be good and let who will be free.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Communal Sight #10: Reply

Some time when I am not so cold
I will have words with you.
I will throw them like red sparks
I will weave them like hot gold.
But now I am too cold.

my tears are icicles before they leave my eyes
my hands shiver apart from my body
my lips blue and twitch against the wind

you assault me like a winter rainstorm
beating with sleet and snow
against my green desire

Some day when summer comes
and there is no shade or hiding place
from white-hot rays and humid breeze,
then I will turn out my store of words
and burn your ice to ash
but now I am too cold.