She is fitting a new shoe—Cinderellawith toenails dipped in wine. Still,in her unwitting display of feet,sunshine suckling on her toes,and they begin a conversationwith your eavesdropping eyes. Lingering—when they will meet her lingerie.A forbidden fruit,sensually dripping into her shoes. I forgot my size. I left—with a throbbing heartand a soul tormentedunder her sole. 3

Here comes the man of mirrorsThe mirrors on the man mirroring the roomWith the furniture having a conversation A painting on the wall: A horse trampling a bouquette of flowers   Horses in me, and out of me, trampling the soul.   A hand of mine, deep in my throat pulling rabbits incessantly They bite, […]

It’s cold in this time of the year And it reminds me of your hands There were no hands But there was some warmth Maybe from this thread of conversations Days of Q’s and A’s Days of exchanging stories, And some thoughts On how hearts can be fixed We both lost our fair share of […]

No one was harmed during the writing of this poem 1. Cupid had a dateWith a housewife, from midtownHe promised her love arrowsThe devilish cherub only brings her sorrow. 2. M. had an operationThe doctors treated him like a puzzleRe-arranged his insides—now nothing fitsHe can’t use his bodily tools 3. A yellow orange seeking approvalAnd […]

1.So now, you seek a primer—after years of painting—Without enough sanding,Drowning in the paradox of colors. 2.There is enough paint in here (my heart) to fill that emptiness.I opened it like Pandora’s box. 3.Armed to the teeth with brushes and rollers,Stripped to the bone—To nakedness,To invisibility. So I restart:Sanding the walls, like I used to […]