Lay Some Sugar On Me

Serve up some flattery

just a pinch will do

words delectable morsels

one more never enough

receptors lie in wait

their long fingers reaching

jonesing for syllables

manna for the love-starved

our ritual dance 

sugarcoated

a quick hit of deliverance

dissolves too quickly 

an insecure hunger

ever insatiable need

lay some sugar on me

I need another fix

Poppies

poppies nod

brave morning

they unfurl 

trusting light 

tangerine crepe

tissue-paper thin 

their core

darkness 

exposed

to heal 

beneath 

brilliance 

:hrr

Detta - 1968

black enameled
stairs, worn
with sorrow
climbed solemn
to a second floor

her small room
sat back, tucked
within an alcove
a bright tiny space

pink chenille
remembered
her weight -
dancing legs,
laughter like
sudden joy

when I arrived
the sacred heart
was still smiling -
but even
the floorboards
missed her

the only light
in a dark house

No Title

I am trying to draw;

post cards and layers of scribbled
mess and paper cover the table -
there for inspiration as if
it were easy, as if its what I do
every day

four days I have thought and worked;
no closer to a decision than I was a week ago

poetry is nothing like this; it invades me -
a possessive lover sneaking up behind

words fall through the top of my head
like coffee drip-drip-dripping
into my morning pot

they hang heavy in the steam
of my morning shower,
taunting me

I capture them on the mirror,
half-wet and shivering,
only to lose them by the time
I’ve dressed

words are my art

traveling through me like
a brush or pencil put to paper

breaking through to my finger tips,
like tears, lightening bolts, or flowers

I wish I could draw them