Pretender to the Crown

Self serving egoist, would be king
You are my hierophant reversed
Mentor and manipulator
You love me only in so far as you control me
Wielding facsimile enlightenment
Peddling holy profundity ad nauseum
Freedom is your fear
You wear it vividly in every grasping attempted sabotage
In ever condescension
Tumbling from your painted lips in frenetic assaults on my choices
Increasingly excluding you
Because, you are not and never were my friend
And, perhaps, there is some part of you that knows
I know
Don't worry though, dear leader
I shall be your crucible

That’s Amore

You joke

A lot

About how I'm your nightmare


You're just not that into it

You tell me 

In so many actions 

That we are two roads diverged in a yellow wood

That deforestation has brought back together 

I don't want to be your worst case scenario


I don't want to be the path of least resistance

I want to be a choice you make every day


Full well that the world is full of choices different if not better than me 

I can't 

Love you into loving me back 

I can't

Be the partner I hope to have 

I can be your partner 


I can accept what you give 

Or not

But with me 

There's no halfway

There's no feeling it out

There's no casual

It's forever or forgotten 

It's the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie 


A sun bleached flyer long since faded

So when you tell me 

You're in

You're my partner my team mate my cheering section my tough love my always

You've gotta mean it

Because I don't do half measures

I'm not interested in going through life with or as an NPC

But that's a problem 



I can't feel you next to me



Every day in every way I grow
In this body stranger than the mind it does not know
Soul deed and countenance so wholly out of tune
A glimmer in a mirror glimpsed so utterly askew
Whose is this face, whose are these thoughts, in whose mind do they belong
For mine is surely not the one from whence these wild things come
Who is this person growing here wild in her cage
Why is this person sentenced here, apathy her stage
A stage a cage a half filled page familiar yet unknown
How is it that I am here, so very far from home
A place I don’t remember well, perhaps one I’ve never known
But home is more than place and time
And I am more than she
A girl who grows within a cage
It’s walls she cannot see


I went to sleep a little girl wondering at existence


I woke up a woman horrified by her world at war

Surrounded by the asymmetry of industrialization

We, as a species, have made the Earth shudder on her axis

More than once

In a single day, more people than I could hope to know in a lifetime

Die, unnoticed

Multiplied a hundred times, the number of non-human cohabitants killed with less thought still

How long since we last regarded our giver of life, our planet, as a treasure entrusted to our care


Anything more than a convenience of materials to be stripped bare

NASA has a fleet of nuclear warheads pointed skyward for planetary defense


WE are the extinction level event

The selfish nihilistic greed of infants incarnate

Floating fetish to fetish in the techno-stupor of the twenty-first century

Ensconced from emotion by the Narcoceutical war on social responsibility

I want the world to break my heart

I want to wake up angry, afraid of our free fall to oblivion

I want to fall asleep with eyes on fire for my refusal to waste tears in place of action


However we gild it

This is life amid ruins

Populated by the ghosts of people not yet dead

And it should not be a vacation

I would rather awaken to the cataclysmic reality of Oz than gaze at its rainbows


I always start my poems with grand ideas

Condensed down into single words

So full

They can ONLY be understood in abstraction

The heavy lifting of MY human existence

Outsourced in pursuit of transcendent literary greatness


I’m just an impetuous girl from New Jersey

Damn near three decades in and sometimes, the person I undress at the end of the day is not the one I dressed at its start

I have no idea what I’m capable of, or what I’m not… or even who I’m going to be two weeks from now

This poem

Was supposed to start with


How you need more of it


How I just don’t seem to have enough to undo what you spent a lifetime learning

It was supposed to prove that taking the next 50 years on faith is as easy as breathing


It isn’t is it….

It’s the rest of forever as far as we’re concerned

The entirety of our human experience signed, sealed and delivered

It’s the end of our youth

And that.. just… doesn’t seem fair

I’m in no rush to get to the end of our story

I know I don’t wanna glue anyone else’s dentures in


I want those dentures to be as far away and abstract as the words I use to start my poems

You’ve already taught me more about who I am and what I’m capable of in three years than I was able to figure out on my own in the preceding 24

And I want to spend the rest of my days exploring your depths because I have never in my life met someone so utterly captivating

This poem hasn’t gone where I expected, but then neither has my life so far… or yours

Somehow all those twists and turns and tears and tribulations

All those decisions large and small

Lead us to be standing in front of each other, that night, several years removed from this moment where our story began

This poem came into being as an explanation of the relativity of time

How three years CAN measure up to fifty and inform your choices about forever

I realize, though, that it was NEVER about grand ideas like time or even relativity

It was about an impetuous girl from New Jersey who fell in love with a quiet boy from Brooklyn

How she loved him so much that, perhaps selfishly, she wanted to claim him for all the rest of forever

That the magnitude of love she felt for him made her want, for the first time, to share that love with a being of our own creation


It’s about how a quiet boy from Brooklyn taught an impetuous girl from New Jersey that in the universe of moments that are the rest of our forever time -, as a linear pressure cooker of frantic expectation, – doesn’t exist

We set the pacing of our story and before we get old together we should be young together first



am fear
Not yet,
not ever, given name
Relentless whispered companion
Singing your certainty of regret
You, yourself, you fed me
Born in indecision
Bred in indiscretion
Ever chasing the smoke of someone else’s flame
Genuflect at the consecration of failures you ordained
Our world, your manifested weakness
Child of your gilded cage
I, alone, will sing you to your sleep
Requiem lullaby absent even dreams


She left, knowing that she would not come back
That sometime between here and home
The ritual folding and burning of innocence
Leaving nothing left for post partum speculation
Dreams, discarded with the ideals of youth
For some other better hero
Exchanged for one soft moment of undignified peace
Magnified ad infinitum in the lens of common decency
Responsibility and the decisions that one cannot take back
Paths that somehow cannot be changed
Sweet saccharine numb of surrender that came too late
She doesn’t love here anymore
She, doesn’t live


You’re the street drug to my sanity
The impulse toward an act I can’t take back
My desperate need for a sponsor
Apathetic addiction to thoughts
Tainted by recognition
Unable to escape this prison of self
Every dream I ever thought of having
Let me sink
Somewhere down beneath my bones
Below the idea that I could ever thrive
Abandoned between enlightened and obscene
Succulent demise


Supplication to a doctrine that breaks
As boughs to those who need
When all that blossoms
Manufactured aridity of the soul
In classrooms as in pulpits
Without value
Without context
Without color
Of all meaning
Thoughts that scream
From the top of my ribs
For all that dies


You decadents you’re damned
Resplendent on your pyres
Empires of destruction
Gilded by your forfeit lives
Mortgaged to build them higher
Cavalcade of unknowing dead
Each day closer to anonymous ash
Your dust for all your wealth no different than mine
Your worms will dine no finer
Locust civilization
Consume until you crumble


The way the leaves scrape
An unsung chorale of the pavement
They the solitary scribes of strangers thoughts
Collectors of the things that none were meant to hear
Whispered indiscretions
Rage that never bore the weight of sound
Love, unfulfilled
A cacophony of emotions damned to nonexistence
Faithfully recorded by the remnants of summer
Alternative realities of self made heroes
The demons of our darkest hours
Living together in the confidence of silence
Empty words as rain that fell too late
Cushioned from the pavement by foliage, fragile
Desiccated skin as witness to dreams unspoken
An ephemeral opus to lives we are not living