An Open Letter To Mr. Right

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My eyes were just too at ease for your world
No trace in them of repressed anxiety from years of being misunderstood by PTA moms and pain from a father who’d abandoned
No frames of deep stress lines ’round these green babies from a lifetime of striving to live up to my ugly, outspoken, simple-minded momma’s expectations
Of your need to pity me, I had no need, I gave no fuck
Without this, Mr. Right, to hand me your hand, to gift me your name — an impossibility!

My eyes were just too at ease for your ego
Did I, wanting your sugar but not a Superman or Sugardaddy strike some fear somewhere in your heart
Did my complex, uncomplicatedness confuse the machine soul in you
Of your need to out speak me, I had no enmity, I gave no thought
Without a shred of me in need of saving, you pissed yourself and ran

Moment Lovers

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Step one, get weird with it. This belongs to you all, after all.

Step two, present yourselves all ways, every day, at the same time.

Step five, step five?! Yes, step five — there’s nothing linear or logical of this.

Step five, show the canvas of man what these years of kinship mean.

Step six, dip your brush in cool, cool water, then choose the color violet. Or orchid, because you are bold, or you want to be.

Step three, make a space in advance, or in the moment, or not at all. The whole Earth was prepared for you.

Step four, never end before you’ve finished, or for forever, whichever comes first. Last.

Step seven, relay your love for The All of them. Take responsibility and fight again tomorrow with the sunrise.

Hot Breath

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Canine king, find me, follow me

Whether dinnertime or downtime
Hot breath on my heels
Chops pressed ‘gainst my calf

Clickety-clacking claws, be unwilling to leave me be

Guard my steps, as I’m prone to frolic with frogs
Looking in wrong places for princes

No sixth-sense nonsense, your love

Brother Blend

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Coffee, simple coffee

I do not ask for more

Not a finer blend than my nemesis
Nor a larger cup than my neighbor

I can cultivate the fruit on my own
If the sun is not stolen away

I can create a rich roast to crush
If my body is not relegated

Conversations we could have
My brother

Would I pour for you
Would you pour for me

Would we meet for coffee each day

Black White Light

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Where is that storm I summoned
To keep me on my heels
From whom others retreat
As I instead advance

One with fierce energy
That will match intellects
Against all odds draw near
Whose heart I need not fear

Perch

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Flowers
They’ve suffered at my hand
Frost
Did I discount them
Never
I, as would many others
Nurturers
Set them again in the sun
Believing
They would continue
Blooming