The Difference is ME

The difference is ME

not some world

that you hang on a chain

around

your neck

that

stiffly smiles

indifferent.

Don't Suck-- Spit

You know the spiel.
Get inspired
Write about something that moves you
Paint using vivid images
And if you can’t
at least have the good sense
to make it short.
Sell it
Show some cleavage
Leave them wanting more
And If you are lucky enough and talented enough to get noticed
go to the awards ceremony, celebrate
But don’t let it get to your head
Stay humble
afterwards go home and
write something else.
Stick with what you know
stick with what works.

Scratch that,
It really doesn’t matter
what subject you choose
it isn’t even the style you use
all that really matters is if
anyone else cares
or can relate to your
drivel, I mean
take spit for instance.
Yeah—you heard me….SALIVA.

Now let’s show what would happen
 if I spit on the sidewalk…
Or—if you’d rather go first
I’ll wait.

it wouldn’t be as interesting though
as if I spit in your face
now would it?

I mean
think about it
what  could you create with spit
maybe take a stick
a little paint
some canvas
an old T-shirt
It might translate into something unique
It might even parade around as ART
SURE…
and pretty soon EVERYBODY
would have to have it
and it might even come in different textures
and tongues—LONG WINDED ONES
AND before you know it
there would be a MOVEMENT
And people could follow your BRAND

and you could get a Twitter button

It would be so COOL and like
maybe the Kardashian’s would
design some spit fashions
for Sears
and well
the rest...
The REST
is still unwritten.

Just This

Love means

I’ll help you pack

then prepare your dinner

but stress me out and I will eat

your young.

Red Dawn

The sun winks red-faced

on its upward climb

chased by sultry hounds

slobbering wet kisses

drenching the cracked brown earth

snaking a path to the sea.

Two dendrobiums snatched

by teething pair

chomped

discarded

alone.

The culprits

soon jailed

by a critical gust

curling hot on their

red heels.

Practical

Perky banks minutes

pens animated haiku

time for pedicure.

Pregnant with Possibility

Mother Earth 
orbits the Sun
pregnant with the seed of life.
Papa Moon glows
rocking the vast oceans 
flexing his muscles
at the growing
galaxy 
he has considered 
since the ancient of days
in this vast playpen growing, multi-hued and
littered with the debris of self absorbed toddlers.

Time passes filling the void
pressing against the outer limits
stretching, kicking, gurgling and cooing
Until...Uncle-- Papa cries, finally
shaking his head
fixed on  a yellow star
as it transforms into a red dwarf and explodes 
ripping a black hole
into the silk wall 
silhouetting space time 
inhaling all, including Mama and her afterbirth 
extruding still, new dimensions
on an infinite cycle 
alive with possibility.

Love in the Time of Compost

Love allows that even a clothes horse 

can have an off day
and knows when to put the blinders on.

Love bows at the sacrificial altar
of burnt beyond recognition
with a branded tongue.


Love relaxes with the Kama Sutra
inhaling a strawberry soufflé
sensually whipped.


Love lets you have first dibs
on the massage chair
kneading and pummeling your
way to RELIEF---
then hands you a post hole digger
to plant a 3' tree.