Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

just to kick my cat

he counts the syllables
of my haiku hoping my math is wrong

he sets his alarm clock for 2 a.m.
to wake up and purposefully misdial my phone

he would deny me water after soaping

he would wage war on my dinner plate
by squashing to death all the baby peas

he fantasizes about my being seated
on the bus seat in front of him
so he could pull my pigtails

he would rip off all the heads of my dolls

he would walk a thousand miles out of his way
just to kick my cat

he wears a hair shirt
and regularly gives himself a good lashing seeking store brand martyrdom

he curses raccoons
for dragging away the dead horse
he so loves beating

all because i do not desire him

he does everything except
leave me the fuck alone

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

these little dead poems

all that remains of us
are dates to be forgotten
yellowed photographs
a carton of chesterfield regrets
and a few lingering
travel receipts


these little dead poems

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

faces come out of the rain

it was a late september afternoon

the northeastern seaboard air
held hostage
by a murderous storm

all that was required of me that day
was to exist happily at home

however extra time and a heart full of love
had allowed me
to take him grateful sandwiches at work

upon returning to our nest
i decided to watch a movie
to occupy my longing
for the sound of his blackened boots
climbing the stairs

we used his laptop to watch streaming films
hooked to a 174 inch flat screen tv
by a silver and gold hdmi cable

that’s when it happened

i clicked on the favorites list to pull up the movie website and there they were

his trunk of costumes and masks

a pile of social network aliases
he had been assuming

i realized he was no less than five people in my world…and everyone else’s
interacting on an eerily regular basis

profiles ranging from a black female poet
angst ridden housewives
hell, even a businessman from Taiwan

my body was crushed to my place on the floor by the enormity of the deception

the stench of oily manipulation filled the room

i left the laptop open to die uncharged
where it sat atop a book of van gogh’s work

still sitting cross legged and stunned
hours later
when he arrived back

horror slashing his face
the legion within him screamed
“Did you look into my computer?!”

the automaton of self preservation raised her head with a dissimulating smile and answered

“I watched The Mirror Has Two Faces, baby. Are you hungry?”

he retracted his fangs and leathery wings
a demon deciding we should have pasta fagiole

i packed my bags the next morning
leaving behind no explanatory note

just a few hairs in the drain and my hopes of making a life with him