Warm blood spills on the chilled concrete floor
forming images discernible only to those who
need to see them at the precise moment they are
most desperate to be saved from insanity.

Ironic that such a horrific thing would bring
peace of mind, but it does in a world where people
feed on twenty-four hour newscasts
and water-cooler gossip.

I saw the Virgin Mary
in crimson on steel-gray
today, and knew that
everything would be alright.



The Children Can’t Play This Spring


Sleepless nights ‘cuz the boogeyman’s gonna get you.
Rapid breathing, nausea, chills down the spine.
Children taken while walking home from bus stops.

Strangers offering candy to preschoolers
out playing in the yard alone.
Where have all the adults gone?

I am here. Is it enough to keep her safe from predator-hands –
picking them like flowers from garden beds as they bathe in the sun
oblivious to weeds wrapping around their fragile stems?

Dooms day is coming, and ready are the evil ones
driving around in red trucks and blue sedans;
wearing baseball caps and long gray hair, at least in my neighborhood

where invisible bars have appeared on our windows
and her bike now sits in the garage gathering dust.

The Rock

photo by sethsnap. used with permission.

photo by sethsnap. used with permission.

She sits on “their rock.”
The lake and her flowing chestnut hair

– childhood backdrops

and those of the proposal, here,
six months ago.

Elbows rest on knees; right palm
cradles chin. The other, bare,
drapes casually across her lap

– maturity’s model.

Shadows veil delicate features,
rendering eyes unreadable.
The midday sun catches a spark

in the abyss

like the diamond ring slowly sinking
to the lake’s bottom.

A Normal Friend


Every once in a while
I meet someone
who is a little off her rocker

like the white double ones
that sit on front porches
inviting friends to sit

and chat a while,
or even stand for a fast hour
talking about things in common.

It’s like conversing
with yourself
only not as nutty as speaking aloud
to yourself, and not having to worry

because you answered yourself
(I always answer myself)
saying I am too weird or too different

to have any “normal” friends;
not realizing that normal is only
an issue when you compare yourself

to others.
Independent of another’s likes, dislikes,
wants, needs, quirks, opinions, views,

religion, character flaws, talents and
shortcomings, we are all our own sense
of normal.

The greatest gift a friend can give,
other than the joy of a good conversation,
is the ability to make you forget that

you are crazier than most; that you are
Ab-normal. If you find this in a person,
you have found yourself a normal friend.

Tree Tops, Monkeys and One Banana


Thoughts in my head, like five monkeys with one banana* –
the damn family tree. The mind is the first to go
when one goes insane. Hah! …redundancy

was my thing until I “got me some pills to pop.”
Neurons, neurons, go away!  Come again some other day.
Their over-excitability’s a real drag at times, but no longer

or at least not mostly, like before when
I used to put pen to paper five times a week at least
(again, at least)…and now it is the very least

activity in my life because the neurons and their neurons
don’t come out to play. Maybe it’s the 105 degree heat
or summer camps and swimming pools. (I don’t remember

the excuses this past winter and spring.) Matters not!
I can breathe! I can breathe! I can breathe!

And I no longer need the sweet scent of tree pulp
to open airways constricted by yesterday’s dust.

But then again, I am a bit of a tree hugger…and underneath
the bark lies rings and rings arranged in a downward spiral
like the rabbit hole I know too well.

*a borrowed metaphor…thanks, B.

Can’t believe I am visiting d’Verse tonight. I’m so excited!

A Little Explanation

“To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary.
To one without faith, no explanation is possible.”
~ St. Thomas Aquinas

st. thomas aquinas

No longer dwelling in past or future;
to write of either is to murder Now,
and I am no killer!

I want to live in Eternity –
that timeless presence
where egoic mind has no place;

where there are no places
of spaces and time. You see,

when I write I think,
and when I think I
categorize, and when I categorize
I suffocate in small boxes

like rodents being carried home from
pet stores – transfers from cage to cage.

I wish I could tell you
more, but it is something
you have to experience
for yourself.


The flutter inside of your heart –
the one that is cautiously, yet excitedly,
saying “Yes!” –
that is a good start.

At the Threshold of Life and Death


photo prompt from Eric at Bifocal Univision

Standing at the narrow end of a tunnel,
where the bright light should be, that’s
where you’ll find me, wondering why the air is dark.

Bony tendrils poke out into the light,
their thin skin singeing with each prod.
I keep my distance just right –

teasing death

like the licking of lips before a forbidden kiss,
making it long for the taste of my last breath –

a high like no other.