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the year i carried a copy of ferlinghetti’s book poetry as insurgent art like a pentecostal carries and twists their bible

i saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
thoughts of kissing me
sleep on disreputable futons
show up at hotel room doors

just about the time
one of my gods said
i was coming close to my

but i’m nowhere in proximity
upping the ante is perhaps required
my addictions too mitigated by motherhood
and the yolk of practicality

i’m not lesbian enough
i’m not disenfranchised
i’ve never been to france
i’ve never given anyone a hand job for a grant
ted hughes has not yet abandoned me

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

in the coming days

i should be terribly afraid
of all the ink and blood ramifications
of falling in love with you

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

selfish like sylvia

we give up
the luxury of suicide
when we have children

it ceases to be an option
because you are no longer
living for yourself

oh, if only i could be more
selfish like sylvia

or as drunk as my father

today would be the day
i’d go join the other writers