Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing


my thursday morning
slippered feet
made their way
down the driveway
of the doe
eating flower bed blooms
in my neighbor’s front yard

i froze
coffee in hand
stooping for the paper
when my eyes found the majestic deer
so robust and noble

standing slowly
stifling a giggle
as she seemed to know which plants
were the priciest
and had taken the longest to cultivate

her brazen way of saying
your quaint little cul-de-sac
is in my field and stream, fuckers

she allowed me to watch her
because she knew we were both just girls
trying to find our footing on another morning
our babies needed to be fed

there is a light within females of every species
the wonder of creation
giving oceans inside us

it makes me want to tattoo my stretch marks
to my fertility statue frame
to make my warrior scars more visible

after all
i am a red indian

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

No. 2

over the partition
he kept staring and craning
shifty-eyed and beady
to the point
i felt his glare must be sunlight
by a world’s fair sized magnifying glass
with the intent of melting my face off

well and often breaking
“you can’t check this relic out
so the research must be done here”

so finally he works up the gumption
saunters over
clears his throat and says
i’ve seen you here in the library before
over in antiquities
why do you always tie up your hair with a pencil
you should wear it down

i can feel him
he’s got creep emanating from him
on the inside he’s ted bundy quaking

i don’t look up
all hard
keeping my eyes on the line i was reading

because i may take a notion
to write a poem
or stab someone in their jugular vein