cat's eye

rocking back and forth
in the shower this morning,
i press my fingers

into my eyelids,
('eyelid wars' we say, because
of the nebula

bursts of color and
the feeling of endlessly
plummeting through space)

and concentrate hard
on the buzz of radio
and video games

that compete with the
rat-a-tat beat of water
on the shower door.

tasty tidbit

instead of a neck,
our baby has a bunch of
extraneous chins

infant milestones

much to celebrate :
baby girl has grown skillful
at flipping the bird.

soundtrack to my insanity

the unreachable
smoke detector's piercing beeps
delight my senses.

you give me an inch, i want a mile.

you know when you have
that one roll of tape that seems
to last forever

and then it runs out
and you're like, "what the fuck, bud ?
WE HAD SOMETHING REAL."

baby girl

we relish these last
moments of folie a deux --
though we know it'll be

a madness of three
because our third wheel will make
us a tricycle.

quiet

it's snowy outside.
the cat sleeps in the corner
and i mend a quilt.

when a BANANA asks you on a DATE

"i'm saying 'yes' to
fruit these days." why i find this
funny, i don't know.

DAMMIT.

unfortunately
i cannot un-know how good
these sticky buns are.

the dog and the water

the tide is high and
green today. the river sighs
and heaves her bosom,

pushing forth a kind
offering of seaweed, sticks,
and plastic bottles.

my dog runs to greet
her old friend, and graciously
accepts these fine gifts.

she dances in the
water, and on the rocks, and
kisses the river

in thanks. yet for all
her gratitude, she is but
a capricious dog

and leaves the river,
still reaching for her, without
even a 'good-bye'.

soda

he knew i wanted
root beer, though i said "surprise
me" and hoped for grape

catholic tricks

crumpling three candy
wrappers into one ball helps
you feel less guilty.

Moses

he enters the train.
he is regal, his head high.
from his neck and chin

springs forth a mighty
beard of matted coils, dense and
black. he has no shoes.

broken bags cover
his broken feet, but he walks
with Grace and Purpose.

he parts the crowd, a
sea of judgement and contempt, and
stands beside the door.

concern on High Street

we're stereotypes,
you & I. YOU : the Brooklyn-born
I-talian with

gold chains roped beneath
an open collar; and ME :
the fleshy, swollen

pregnant gal gasping
for air on a landing. you
watch me ascend the

flight of stairs, worried.
"christ's motha ! you gonna make it ?"
laughing, I nod. "yeah."

good morning, poodle.

her beard flattened, she
squints at me from across a
sun soaked room & yawns.

quit it, guys

my pets are sitting
in a circle staring at
each other. freaky.

delirious

little baby don't
worry, i was just trying
to get some shut-eye

blood clot on Front St

MOVE you big fat fuck
i'm lugging a 20-lb
bag of cat litter

when you are sad, i am sad

fingers of tears creep
down her face, they are greyish
from her mascara.

conservation of energy

sometimes my cat is
so damn lazy she only
half-blinks her eyes, yo.

in which my mother teaches me how to mend a quilt

"there's a better way,"
she says, squatting next to her
work. "but it's too hard."

she runs her fingers
along the stitches, reading
them blindly like braille.

"see how this line is
closer and tidier ? more
even ?" i nod, "yeah."

"those others are more
of a hem-stitch." she goes on,
pushing herself up.

"you try the next line."
she laughs while i knot the thread.
the actual sewing

takes me over an
hour, and looks nothing like
her neat marching ants.

"i like how you took
care of this corner." she says
kindly, somehow proud.

i pout a little.
"it's lumpy, like scars." she shakes
her head, "it's sturdy."

a nightmare

i am a deformed
and lumbering giant stranded
on an endless beach.

there is sand in all
directions, and it is wet,
but without water.

my tongue grows and twists
behind my teeth, gagging me.
i topple over.

a gentleman

a retarded man
offered me his place on the
A train today. "Miss!"

he whoops as i board.
"Miss! Right here!" so excited,
he leaps from his seat.

"Or should I say Mom?!"
he takes my arm, and weaves us
through an upset crowd.

for several stops
we talk about baseball, football,
and coney island.

or rather, he talks,
as i know nothing of these.
soon the train slows and

he gathers his things,
a collection of plastic
bags, books and sundries.

"Boy or girl?" he asks,
his face alive with joy and
interest. "A girl."

"Oh, girls are the best!"
he calls over a frowning
woman as he leaves.

mother and daughter

today my mother
and i go to the doctor,
hoping to hear the

baby's heartbeat, or
maybe catch a glimpse of the
curve of a nose, or

the crook of a knee.
i am, after all, doing
what she did once, and

times, boy have they changed.
"with you, they used a tape to
measure my belly.

that was it !" i nod.
she squeezes my hand, eager.
the doctor walks in.

she is distant and
distracted. talking idly
about traffic, she

motions that i lie back,
and then absently unfurls
her measuring tape.

last night's dream

julia roberts
and i team up to reveal
that tom brokaw

is an alien;
sad, grizzly culmination
in biosphere 2.

between the folds

some people fail to
recognize that movie monsters
look like vaginas.

these assholes need to
see either more movies or
more cunt. likely both.

lunch with a friend

'don't forget to hold
his head,' she says. she is nervous.
maybe i am, too.

eaten

it's a warm morning
on this first of june, the type
that make folks complain

because they forget
how hot july can be. the
new mosquito bite

on my ankle BEGS
my nails to rake across it,
but i plumb refuse.

instead i make little
X's on it, and treasure
the too brief relief.

GORGE-ous.

2 chili cheese dogs
for dinner. there are some sins
that can't be un-did.

raw.

and a special thanks
to the child who infected
me with this charming

bug. a sore throat : the
perfect accompaniment
to a rainy day.

dear Xeno,

what if death is a
myth. what if during your last
hours, minutes, seconds

time gradually
slows, until each moment is
an eternity.

did the Tortoise not
teach that the end never comes ?
do we not seek the

infinite between
the infinitesimal ?
I am the star of

this pornography
known as consciousness, and it
is one with no end.

dear lady

hairspray and leopard
print : the key to tricking Old
Age. or so she thinks.

namaste, fat girl.

i gorge on cookies
after yoga to honor
the glutton within.

in this great melt

we must remember
that the banana, newly
excavated by

yesterday's warm
hands, is most certainly still
delicious; for

we are not fools so
easily tricked by a peel
blackened from the cold.

bones

he orders sandwich
with a side of sandwich, but
leaves all of the crusts.

differing opinions

i say 'dive right in'
but he says, 'don't go whole hog
right outta the gate.'

i'll do what i please.

i've been home from the
dentist not two hours and
have thus far enjoyed :

one cup of coffee
one handful of jelly beans
one glass of wine, and

some other no-nos.
my mouth aches and tastes of blood
but i say FUCK THEM !

this is what happens when you try too hard.

put glasses over

glasses this morning and saw

that i could not see.