kites prominently up-swept

Kites-  you think of me
 when clocks are
 near your morning
 and sheets are tangled
 in between your legs
 shanghaied firmly
 the other
 of the bed

 you think of me
 when the
 keyboard is
 clicking your
 dives and highs
 in rapid fire
 promises of

 you think of me
 decorating your
 tree with brilliant
 adjectives and
 hyperboles star struck
 on powdery gauge
 strings harbored
 with silvery

 I think of you
 in the caliginous
 corners of my
 reposing eyes
 at dawn’s
 waiting for the
 email ping on
 my phone

 I think of you
 creating rules
 to your whim
 and heart as you
 and mechanically
 direct me to
 call you

 I think of you
 when I’m in
 need of
 your wisdom -
 modernism –
 literary philosophy
 to finely dress my
 infatuation in
 haute couture
 until the
 next heady

 I love the
 and wonder why
 your actions speak
 differently than
 your unspoken fears?
 your honesty,
 while admirable,
 is a consternation
 to my knowing

 the introspection
 keeps all of
 up-swept 2016© – all rights reserved. may not be reprinted without permission.


just before
dawn broke
your invisible
appeared in my
head while I was
the venue was blue
with the quiet complacency
of your demure voice
peacefully conveying –
prepossessing verses
to hold in my hand
but they float into
esoteric circles-
into the locked clubhouse
for select members
only 2016© – all rights reserved. may not be reprinted without permission.

I watch the
locomotion of oranges and limes
bobbing around a sunken
in a sea of grain alcohol-
realizing the more I refresh
the more intriguing the scene-

party fare disguised in a sticky garbage can
on the lawn crowned with red solos
each adorned with confident claws
lounging and laid on the
spring grass.
All the while:
consummate amateurs prey
upon the L’air du temps lambs
incessant with giggles
and Ultra Bright smiles
glow in the dark.
UnderclassMEN cannot resist
unfledged, fresh meat delivered at
their Levi draped feet.
Frat sweethearts dressed older
bolder a n d endowed
Frat brothers COCKsure,
rocked a n d cocked
BFF’s lust to view
Gamma Phi
the third brightest star
in the constellation
which takes me –
Not them
by the hand
to a capricious ingénue envisage

acute bibliography for a prospective future

I wasn’t aware 
the capacious blinds overhanging the front windowpanes
 are slanted just enough to allow
the neighbors an explicit view
                                   inside my house.
the hail of heartbeats
banging against the hurricane #5 glass
must’ve stopped the rein of ricochets no 
longer taking credit for “yard of the month”. 
Questions asked
                            a n d ignored. 
Gossip and wonder penetrate the 
 radiant barrier roof.
whispers hanging from the blooming magnolia tree – 
whispers on the winding walkways
 They witnessed the tawny bricks 
 stacked ever so politely in the front driveway before
being bundled, projected– propagated into a
 perfect subway pattern meeting and greeting right angles
into shelter walls
hand prints were mirrored historically into the concrete foundation –
 mapping an 
acute bibliography for a prospective future. 
If the window treatments were other 
than fingerprinted ivory white -
would the pathetic shouts of mercy
transcend into lyrical verses or 
uttered contractual versions of an expired lease
 with notice of eviction?
When I peer through the glass 
front to back –the express tunnel would
polarize any promise of “good” feng shui. 
the raging fires were too close to the waves
 washing the tears over the slippery floors?
 I didn’t
want the sympathetic visitors with lustrous apple pies
                    and prostrate sheriffs dictating
 arrogant orders of intimidation 
“vacancy” hung on the freshly enameled red front door – 
implementing the exorcism
for my future, my plans, my dreams,

The concerns were unwarranted. 
No one asked for the unanswered prayers or 
faint echoes turning deadbolts or
disarming security alarm sirens
 Hollow houses do not 
require supported occupancy permits
on every killum beige wall - in every room.

 Just because I bought
 doesn’t mean I have
 to live in
 it 2016© - all rights reserved. 
may not be reprinted without permission.

incorporeal treasures

You gifted me hope
an invaluable commodity
of the incorporeal treasures with the silver and blue ribbons
stacked politely inside pristine pyramids

resembling the mystic gild and glimmer
at Dillard’s.
The display shortened my gasp for air
they are:
largest to smallest
easy to climb – hard to grasp
unreachable flimsy filigree edges that continuously tilt
side to side
from my white bread
PH-PA polished and manicured fingers

Box #3 sitting next to a brilliant star

but as the
Aspirant – I chose Box #2

It repressed
shattered an d disappointed
a fragment of the hope.
The type A crown of glory and thorns
I wear impassively on my head
tilted into my brows
stopping me where I stand.
Halted from holding
both hands out,
they are now kindly
placed behind my back


incongruent hits
bemused by intangible
I can’t see who is
interring the black
under rocks?
under sheets?
behind you?
inside you?
oneiric tape
clicks- one slide
then another
slipping between
the grasp of
and –

to me© all rights reserved

The blue Olivetti typewriter


The blue Olivetti typewriter
Let words fall where they were
supposed to without the inhibitions and tribulations
hanging – dragging
lyrics bounding from the swing reckoned with burnished chain
fresh from Miller Hardware.

It didn’t matter if the breeze
your starched and frilly dress into your face
as long as your skinny legs continued to pump the flash into
your new life.
It didn’t matter what the neighbor’s thought – Why would I care about what the neighbor’s thought?

The blue Olivetti typewriter
Slammed unkind verses
clicked intense verbiage – the 18k watch wound tight
evidence of the spring snapping befell an uncommon reflex
inside of you.
Should I put it out there? Will everyone know I can’t tell time?
Shifty-Shifty gave it an A

doubts were winners
sanctions in bits to puzzle into logic
leadership became a vessel of easy passage – fallen bloomers outsize my capacity

The blue Olivetti typewriter
prospered expressions into an adolescent eminence
I didn’t know that I didn’t know – but it was alright with the ecosphere.
Shunning allocation due to a Hartley on a billboard
It wasn’t created to share venal sequestered contemplations
The assignment had to be presented
The class was paid for with sweat applause rattled the monogrammed oxford shirt pink souls are not for sale (can’t believe I remember using that expression)

The blue Olivetti typewriter
Became a moth ball overcoat
Heavy – loose buttons hanging from cord….

The Goodwill doesn’t even want to deal with the shamble of inappropriate technology in a humid southern state.

Who wears second hand underwear? especially last year’s model
Kevlar wrap road blocked phrases wrapped in a complicated compass-
Amplified by Jetson ways & means ringing a ca-ching, ca-ching to noisy editors

Electronically transmitted to the back of the closet
© all rights reserved

Poetry final


What happened to Hostess Ho Ho’s?

There has been a horrible change in the beloved Hostess Ho Ho’s. I’ve been eating these since I was in middle school. The following link will take you to one of the first  –Hostess Ho Ho Commercial 1968.  

Ho Ho’s were always the upper echelon of snack, junk food. The reason I didn’t like Little Debbie Swiss Rolls is because the chocolate covering tasted like cardboard and the cake tasted dry. As a kid, Ho Ho’s came with an individual foil cover. I remember my heart beating madly as I peeled the foil back and the waft of chocolate would fly by my nose. The chocolate was smooth and would melt around your fingers. The cake and creme were divine. I can remember savoring each and every bite.

The Hostess Ho Ho’s I purchased at the local grocery store last week (January 2016), are wrapped in a ballooned white plastic – like a tampon! The chocolate covering taste like cheap car wax. In fact, the flat bottom is barely covered at all. It looks like our dachshund’s bare belly. The chocolate cake is almost stale. You know, the kind of stale that sticks in your throat and only a fire hose can wash down.Hostess Ho Ho's

Everything that was good in the world is now made cheaper, quicker and with less calories. The manufacturer’s do not care if the product taste like wax. Kids of this time period would not have the comparison of my childhood memories.

I moved to Texas from Pennsylvania in 1984. Ho Ho’s were not available on the grocer shelves in North Houston at that time. I would actually have my grandmother mail me boxes of Ho Ho’s from Pittsburgh. In other words, I’ve been wolfing these delicacies down for many decades.

#Hostess, please hear my plea and make the good Ho Ho’s again. I am willing to pay for good chocolate, fresh cake and the foil wrapper – which obviously keeps this product fresh.