This is Jail

“this is jail”

oft-repeated poisonous mantra

“if you don’t like it, don’t come to jail”

officer excusing institutional dehumanization

“we’re in jail”

flawed logic condoning

crude, rude sewer mouth

gratuitous graphic expletives

“i’m in jail”

faulty rationale promoting

senseless corrosive pejoratives

perpetually derogatory interactions

“you’re in jail”

invalidation levied rataliatorily

accusation of assured corruption

expectations of decency DENIED

“this is jail”

flashing neon sign

advertising internalized self-denigration

all-pervading loss of dignity



All in a Day’s Work

I am weighing in

on matters of weight

and consequence

I measure my words

for breadth and depth

pour them forth

in tones of equal measure

passionate and restrained.

he hears a waspish

background buzz

drowned under

the squelching

of my sopping pudenda

as he pounds,

pounds and pounds.

I see

his erroneous prerogative

in his delusional


interpretation –

conjuring a mirage,

a wet and shimmering


beckoning his thirst,

begging for repetitive


dry as the Sahara

I burn his retinas

with the unrelenting


of my rejecting stare,


assertations of import

steadfastly comport


above (his) sea level

Head Winds

winds of change blew arctic

stultifying waxing moons

forward motion frozen

afore Siberian gusts

existence benumbed

impatient glaciating

seeds of survival



debugged, deloused


no germ

she germinates

tenacious tendrils


poke purslane pink


into time and tempest

As the Moon is My Witness

Selene my silent sister

you were there that morning

dropping slow and weary

after a long night’s beaming

I noted your brilliance

in those last moments

before darkness descended

(though I knew not they were the last).

you beheld my downfall

in mute solidarity

accustomed as you are

to reflecting others’ light.

you were a touchstone, Luna

through the interminable months

I strained and contorted

climbed, risking censure

for a glimpse of your glowing orb.

I missed your presence

protracted gloom

those many moons

when I found you again

in harvest bleeding

I sat hours agog

penning amateur odes

awed by your lustrous veil.

unrestrained, I mark your phases

as I did mine own

honoring your fullness

with the fullness of my attention

above the trees, obscured

on the horizon

as I commute.

you rise, anon, Selene

gleaming, gleaning

shining light upon the lunacy

calling forth memory

glimmer and shimmer

harking back to havoc

shining forth

to halcyon revival

When There are No Words

solemn and stately

the moon spotlights

unspeakable carnage

slaughtering barrage

that obliterates luminosity.

silvered rays highlight

massacre and aftermath

bodies and belongings

littering a field

as if lives are to be

collected with the trash.

the old man in the moon

closes his weary eyes

bewildered beyond

his ancient wisdom

while coopted ostriches

bury their heads

in deep dark pockets.

the moon rises again tonight

dragging aggrieved heart

to his designated place

ablaze with consternation.

no matter how brightly he shines

this defies illumination.









Anniversary Aggravation


she observes

the uptick in hypervigilance

she startles these days

significantly more often

than her norm

jumping out of her skin

without provocation

approach with silent footfalls

scaring her silly

muffled but unstifled


escapes mortified lips

hands fluttering, protect

jackhammering heart


she can draw the line graph

the spike in reactivity

distressing dysregulation

above her baseline

her psychologist brain

checks off the symptoms

chronicles the triggers

approximate proximate causes

camouflaged in oppressive heat

autumn stealthily encroaches

absconds with daylight

shuttered from early morn

creeps in

crunching crisply



her mind awhirl

in the busy-ness

of surviving

the calendar

bypassed consciousness

her senses register

seasonal signals

condensation clings

chilly to car windows

rolled for navigation

as they were that day

when the barrel pointed

and cataclysm commenced

memories seldom play

rough cut footage

edited out

of her current screenings

by a militant producer



her body


Failed Ally: Open Letter to American Justice

Dear Lady Justice,

you wear your blindfold

for all to see

yet we remain oblivious

to your captivity

you are sculpted

in suffocating folds

of regal complicity

to values perverted


by power-deranged


I apologize

I was incognizant

bemused by my inculcation

ignorant of your

hostage situation

Do your bindings

cover tears

cover your ears

drown out the screams

echoing cinderblock


Are you forced

to nod acquiescence

as we were facing

the business end

nozzle of power

and oppression?

Do they you force

you to your knees


while WASPish lawmen

fondle their pieces

fingering triggers

in rabid self-gratification?

Do you tremble

with traumatic


at every gavel

pounding hypocritical



I respectfully

submit my regretful

subjugated resignation

I misdiagnosed

your symptoms

of rampant


I was remiss

utterly missed


Stockholm Syndrome


Fury Filled Fire-Water

your rhetoric

incinerated me

at the stake

a bonfire

all hopes of redemptive future

I drank deep draughts

from the goblet

you poured

overflowing of immolation

the hurricane

of my sorrows

left me charred

soggy clumps

I stank

with the pitiful stench

of abandoned homefires

coated in the pungent

clinging of my uselessness

I trudged, head down

into the gales

of your blistering derision

bolstering brittle limbs

with every smoke dragged step

my eyes began to eagle

your over-eager oogling

as my spines


soft protective plumes

I swallowed the lingering tongues

of salted flame

you lick

lapping at my wounds

I breathe branded fire

unsuccumbed to shame

witness the crackling fire

sparking from my eyes

and tell me again

how I will never

be anyone




she did her time

in a concrete tomb

etched in stone tablets

of damnation’s tome

lorded over

by dungeon masters

antebellum gnomes

she withered

skin dry and papery

anima Grinch-like



as an exsiccated raisin

hard and insubstantial

anhydrated bones

skeletal key

belatedly turned

she exhumes

maggoty dragging

leprous remains

thwarting the fate

befallen Rappaccini’s daughter

she sponges feculence

from splintered self

bathes her pulverized


in determination’s


fused in the fire


soul beams

sparking from her eyes