your world is ablaze


you guarded those smoldering coals

\steaming hurts and smoking resentments\

convinced yourself

you were the watchman

lest a conflagration rise.


you stood in the gusts

\intrusions and degradations\

eyes shuttered

as if stinging sparks

were of no concern.


you felt the bonfire billow

\swallowed bile now volcanic\

while Hestia whispered

power surge sweet nothings

that brought your blood to boil.


you exhaled as a dragon

\savored the bite of rage\

dripped fuel from mangled fingers

threw that Molotov

just to watch it burn.

Phoenix Promenade

I traipse these forsaken streets

where the detritus

of the maelstrom

lies powdered in the sidewalk

cracks, smothering the industry

of ants’ ancient machinations.


I was birthed in destruction

spewed forth

from the ravaged womb

\of she who was\

I flew

where others dare

not tread


and the blood of Athena


in my veins

Funny, or Forever

it’s a funny thing

how forever

is impenetrable

the iceberg that slashed –

pierced Titanic

with a mortal gash.

until distress

in the shape of global warming

meets judgment

in the form of Mach 5

and time is awash

in an icy deluge

of fragility.


it’s a funny thing

how forever

is shrink-wrapped

in glimmery cellophane

presented by bunnies

riding aback pirouetting unicorns

wreathed in butterfly smiles.

until missteps

shred glittery wrapping

to shit stained ribbons

while apprehension

fattens the teeming nits

that gorge as medieval knights

on the clotting gore

of slaughtered hope.


it’s a funny thing

about forever




do you not see her?

the cowering fawn

peering cautious and doe eyed

behind flippant bang flips

biting back her fears

with her insolent lip.


she watches you

ancient soul

reading your exigencies

with survivor fluency

belied by halting

rhetorical cadence


do you not know her?

the ravenous infant

who suckles greedily

at the toxic teat

of counterfeit conceit

bloating on the surfeit

distended lies and

dismembered truth.

she masters you

the precocious conjurer

who spins chimerical yarns

as Van Gogh paints Poe

renders you heroine

victim of self-inflicted villainy

sutures your hara-kiri wounds


do you not hear her?

the rhythmic rocking

to her heartsick keening

the illegible lamentation

scrawled in bloodied

chicken scratch

writ literary boldface

in every listless shrug

and hangdog

‘I don’t care’


she echoes you

parroting perverse


preening for the

mirror, mirror

who’s the mommy dearest

hanging malignant mercury

poisoning her future

MALEVOLENT MELODY- Blood Into Ink Curator Collaboration

(Aurora Phoenix)

Your Urgency Pierced My Marrow


with vanilla milquetoast


you spun a web

the envy of Arachne

smeared in syrupy cajolery –

I supped on hand-dipped flattery


your urgency pierced my marrow with flim flam



Dilly Dalliance Bound Me


Lavender dipped

indulgent tongue

dripped incantations,

salacious songs—

your abuse was tender


dilly dalliance bound me with feathers



The Honey You Gave

Those words were sweet as honey and I drank them down like they were all for me. I fell for each one. But slowly, beneath my rose-covered eyes, they soured.
And, piece by piece, you took all you wanted from me. 


(My Valiant Soul)

Your Hands Are Stiff Wire


Cinnamon sticks plummeting

screeching lullaby with love and hunger,

A spasm spews on the back of an ant

The circle of disgust and disgust

My legs are broken, my arms are missing

yellow stingy archaic cry

Ruffling touch,

You disappear like a swollen pollen grain

As I chop my hair, chop the hideous you.




Lies and Propaganda


Anything goes, according to your arrogant agenda

Gaslight fueled, devotion fooled

Poisonous thirst for possession

And domination obsession

Believing exemption from

Sugar coated sin

As long as you win


Sticks and stones broke my bones, your lies and propaganda broke my spirit




No Longer Your Canvas


I throw out the bouquet of violets, salvia, red roses

you lay in empty contrition on our sheets of white linen

where I nurse the most recent bruises you have drawn with your fists

once you are gone, I adorn myself in essential oils

bittersweet for truth

thyme for strength

rosemary for remembrance

though my left eye may be swollen shut

I have never seen more clearly

than I do as I walk out the door, hidden suitcases in hand


I will no longer be the canvas for your unholy rage

Mammarian Herstory


remember those days of cocksure adolescence?

drawn on drawling

rowdy Maybelline insouciance

when we guzzled from the trough

of soured milk cooption.

we tugged clingy dress outrage

o’er demure plaid skirted unease

spouting misogynist invectives

in misbegotten self-defense

“suck my left tit!”

as if sacrificing the sanctity

of one safeguarded

the other from prying

eyes or sticky fingers.


how had the left


to be lamb led

slaughter side?

as we harnessed

encephalitic fevers

hormone jittery fed

and strutted, teetering

in our stiletto’d nonchalance

incapable of appreciative

mirror self-study.


these mammaries

they have nourished

hungry babes

soothed broken hearts

and fired thirsty fantasies.

what they may lack

in perk they heft

in earned respect.


trust, today

if I offer

left OR right

in comfort, tear-absorbing

or for quenching

alternate blazes

I expect dignity


with venerated