Monthly Archives: July 2009

Lemon Custard

Your sour disposition runs all over me

I keep waiting for you to become a pie

You have the flaky crustiness but …

the fluffy sweet meringue is missing

With no topping, I can’t serve you up

Place you next to a bitter cup of joe

There is no balance, no compliment

Nothing to bind your flavors together

At least not on my dessert table

How about you come back after you whip some up?

Cowboy Corral







she loved him madly, knew all his sins

no effort to change his rough exterior

he worked the fields, town and country

always finding his way to forgiveness

a lasso ’round her heart pulled tight

loved her fine but thought her simple

all that was simple was her willingness

constantly pardoning his transgressions

patiently waiting for boy to become man

hurtful cowboy jokes with other boys

her reigning him in from their demise

shaking her head in final realization

a note she thought he might comprehend

“you should have removed your spurs

don’t you know, you’re not my first rodeo”

In Your Hands

I threw my troubles to the wind this morning

in hopes that they would land in your hands

and you would help me figure out what to do

my cares I kept with me, where they belong

forty-five is not old, yet I am befriending tired

no longer greeting every day with bright eyes

I look around, trying hard not to look back

choosing to forget past efforts while searching

a new remedy to heal my broken determination

ease the torment that quietly, daily dwells

I have tried letting things go, they creep back

requests are given a nod before being filed away

others looking for motivation, I am not enough

a fixture, not a treasure, just a broken device

that should be taken to the shop and overhauled

they have forgotten that I breathe and I feel

forgotten that I can run

Coffee House Academy

i went to see them

seeking models for my aspirations

storytellers demanding you fill in the blanks

some were born for stage, their voices boomed

regardless of content

a search for meaning that wasn’t there

we drank chai tea and clapped politely

hiding some of our grins

amazed when novice trumped pro

an expert, ancient lesbian in a fishing jacket

stuck on Stein and Woolf, repeated their lines

calling it her creation, and we wondered

who gets to make the decision on value

why is she the one to navigate our feminism

telling us where we should land

then a curious thing, a young woman with a definition

just a whore from the dictionary, spoke truths that made us blush

her stumbling more endearing than certainty

i found myself wondering who was really the harlot

walking to the car after the rain

Undue Torment

reconciliation is neither in front nor behind us

we have settled into our prospective corners

yet my heart aches for the fear they breathe

relieved it is not the devastation I have known

remembering the dusty feel of inhaling the uncharted

relying on strangers to secure your child in your arms

wondering if you would ever again visit the mundane

Shedding Skins (v2)

beneath the layers

you will find me

struggling to breathe

I believe I am shedding

an exhausting struggle

I keep inhaling remnants

of intentions for others

maybe I am meant

to ingest the old skin

so that some remains

no longer the cloak

but still nurturing the core

so it will be part of the whole

when I am done

shedding skins

Bamboo Aspirations



in a land of ciphers, there is no petition

no solicitation, for the position of Job

though some may die for the divine

nobody signs up to endure the levy

like bamboo in the wind, one must bend

but not be broken, touch bare ground

yet not fracture, though trials be endless

flex ever forward, always yearning for

the cultivation of wisdom that leads to 








he read it once, read it againchords

asked me to stay right here

he ran down and back with

guitar and a strap and said

mom, just lend me your ear

the words he sang out

in his young man voice that I love

I sat quiet and somewhat amazed

I have heard him before

singing out through his door

but this is a moment I’ll save

he’s so tall I look up 

just to see his big grin

smiling as bright as the sun

I think of him still as my little boy

even though his growing is all done

I considered the difference

in the words that he sang

though the order was all just the same

the laughter, the passion, his eagerness too

this all isn’t something you train

I smiled at him, thanked him, and agreed to a future show

he said we’ll try some new chords tomorrow mom

right now I’ve just got to go

Thrift Me Baby

I look in the door of the secondhand store

scouting a new set of digs

flashy new hat and some sporty new boats

to cover my 10 little pigs

I look high and low, so what do you know

this place, it smells kinda funky

some dishes, old records, and TV remotes

there’s even a silly sock monkey

it’s dusty and dirty, a bum’s in the corner

and here I am digging deeper

old and abused, everything has been used

here is a stained sofa sleeper

so much to see and only open twelve hours

oh darling, what should I do

come back tomorrow and search it again

or go out and buy something new

Pirates Game

I exhale a sigh

but not of relief

the tension, the fear

it is ever present

what if they find out

maybe they already know

that all of it, all the words

borrowed from somewhere

learned from someone else

the book’s already written

so I shuffle them, deal them out

pretend to have the winning hand

all the while hoping they won’t notice 

some cards are marked