I Overcomplicate Things


I don’t want to tell you my name.
With it comes stories, my stories.
I don’t know you well enough yet.

Maybe others don’t feel the same,
Don’t need complex categories,
Don’t believe telling is a threat.

Find them then, and leave me the blame,
The nameless passions, the furies.
All mine. I take what I can get.




I wandered, too young
To feel bold, just bored.
Looking for dolls. I
Hate dolls. Now. But then…
I never saw his
face. Just felt his hand
Squeeze me from behind.
Behind me. My be
Hind. Too young, too scared
To tell. Too dirty.
That’s what happens when
Little girls wander.

Loathing lasts, begun
With dolls and ignored,
Never asking why
It’s okay for men
To touch. Power is
Something grownups and
Gropers have designed.
How could I break free?
The first time I dared
Wander, it hurt me.
Stay close and closed then,
A lesson to ponder.

That’s what happens when
Little girls wander.

Writer or Witch?


I’d like to write a rhyme today,
A uni-verse for us to share,
A simple poem that travels well.

I’ll write something sublime to say
How much I feel, how much I care,
Those secrets that I never tell.

So when you don’t have time to stay,
You’ll take me with you everywhere.
A pocket poem, this writer’s spell.

Maybe the Theater’s Empty


Will ancient prayers appease young gods?
Or should we write a modern verse?
Who answers when we sinners call
To ask forgiveness? Put on hold

Again while they wean out the frauds.
Recording plays: press one to curse
Your enemies. Press two for all
Requests. I wait while hell grows cold.

My line goes dead. What are the odds?
This life slips past from bad to worse.
Still drunk on last year’s alcohol,
I vow to win all they withhold.

I take the stage. No one applauds.
Tough audience. I’m unrehearsed.
I’ll stay, though, till the curtain falls,
Performing both to young and old,
To jaded gods who’ve seen it all,
My whispered lines a life prayed bold.

Who Am I in This?


What’s up ahead, there in the dark
Beyond those first smiles? Underneath
The shimmer hides the shiver, cold
As morning and just as fierce. I’ve
changed my mind; go on without me.

Let go before you leave a mark.
We made it this far. Lay a wreath,
So we’ll remember when we’re old,
And wander back here half alive,
Searching for a love that might be

Waiting still. A shadow love, stark
Naked in the glare, all claw and teeth.
A wild love, abandoned. Stories told
About what might have been will thrive
Untended, so go. We break free.