Poem: Cushion-cut sparkles & your vinyl on my wall

My favorite time in Chicago is when it snows

The happiest, the saddest

My father never met my lover

Wash my soft, graceful face with rosewater
He never told anybody but I know I was his favorite daughter
We weren’t the kind to shop in departments
Me and my collages, alone in my apartment
The brick wall where I hung your vinyl cover
That I took on polaroid
In the Spring

Every birthday of mine is spent at a rose garden
Didn’t catch your last insult, I beg your pardon?
I’m decaying slowly
Can everyone tell?
A marine biologist
Tall, and bright in his field
Who only owns one plastic shell
He says the real things – they never actually sell
A set of crucifixes, medium-well
You cheat on your wife, your friends never tell


I’d never depart

I loved to love you; you loved to be loved by me

I remember when.

My engagement ring
Beloved thing
Almost died, how beautiful of a Spring
I love diamonds, yes I do
The shine, the glamour
Reminds me of somebody I think about being
But have no route to that sort of life
See the deep amber skies
Can’t ever tell if people are saying hello or their final goodbyes
I’ve got the most beautiful green eyes
But a boy never told me that
And I don’t ever expect one to
I just read about it in the novels
Jane Austen, Aldous Huxley
Mansfield Park, Charlotte Bronte
Things fall apart
Oh yeah

In the mirror, I look so strange

Most scathing dissection of the hollowness
That American society barely trembles on
Dystopian but generic
I hate to speak out loud
Hate that irreversible girl sound
Hypnotic, devastating
Tell me I’m hopelessly divine!
I think I lost my tablet –
The great tragedy of our time!

I picked out my children’s names
Then decided to never conceive
Unless my husband said please
Chest to ground, down on his knees

When my lost love proposed to me
I had one beautiful engagement ring
Later that season
He said goodbye to me
I sold it for free

We shall part like the sea
As if it was ever to be
I would’ve died happily

I would’ve died gratefully


I would have died fulfilled and free
The lost art of caring for me





Provide feedback: Questions, comments, critiques, submissions, songs I should listen to.  * * * *

Poem: The Promise of Escape

Dear God, I hope I find you

Dissonance and atonality

The exploitation of the poor
Corrupt bourgeois world
Expose a naive sentiment that I had
Never mind
Contemporary jazz
Classical music
A 12-tone scale causing near riots with its subject matter
I believe in this country
I believe in running away
I believe in the promise of escape



My heart’s not broken

I’m starting my own revolution
I told you already!
By hiding underneath my pillow and my pink and grey blankets
So annoyed when people spell it gray
Some words are
Intended for purely practical ends
Not film
Not photography captions
Not instagram stories
Dear god I hope I find you
You’re missing in places I didn’t know were part of me
My heart’s not broken I’m just wired to see
The bad things you think about me



I just wanted your attention

If I was a feline
I’d prance on top of your work desk
And mess all of your papers up
Wagging my tail like I don’t even know who you are
Or how much this deliberate organizational chaos means to you
I’d knock your desktop computer over
To me, what is it?
Every object is some type of toy
2-3 sugars, you decide, 1-1.5 inches of soy
That’s my degree-holding original barista boy

I just wanted your attention
Is it sad to admit that?
Like I’m writing in dingbats
I have things to say!
Let me have my way!
I’ll rescind to that

Never let me have my caveats
And I’m at fault for that
Learned my lessons tit for tat

But the world doesn’t turn like that
I’ve got to wake myself up
Splash water in my face
Get a real fucking taste
For what’s to come

For what’s to come
Cross my hearts, subtract my sum
I’m an American alumn
I’m the worst that’s to come



oldtimer, american classic cars, classic






Poem: 1933-1945


We would like you to enlist in our services.

For some people, war is war. For others – dear mother. Russian Proverb 


The painting of slogans on buildings
Young people were attracted to a group that offered adventure
Distinctive military appearances
Who achieved more?
We were all keeping score

The unquestioned leader
Officers and politicians
Ugh, so nationalistic
My brother, he had
A stern political career
In the postwar years
He blamed his associates

Secret meetings
Apocalyptic trains
That would combust all of a sudden
Confidential minutes of a downhill argument
When you’re Russian they think you’re very clever
All a hoax
From the flood, a new world will be born
Signs and wonders are seen
From the unruly flood
Come Holy Spirit creator
Salvation is to befall



Liberation of humanity
Whine about wretched nest eggs
His lack of success
No chance of survival
Less-than-mediocre poet
He died just like that

Nobody cried about it





Poem: Your friend and other things

It hurts
I don’t know if I fell in love with you, or your black shirt
I like plain
I want to watch the recording of us dancing again
The one I made up in my brain
In two separate plains
You’re the cutest when you look me directly in my eyes
The only guy that (maybe) to me never lies
Someone who reads, but wouldn’t call himself wise

No doubt, I’m sure
My new coat is black faux fur
You’d hate it!
I look like Lucille Bluth
It’s straight comedy
Come to bed with me
I see you as shy, but maybe I’m wrong
Maybe you’re secretly an outspoken guy
With me I like how you talk
Except the morning when you drove me home
So bitter around sunlight!
You just
Give me goosebumps
My frail body is covered
I’ll be your friend and your lover



I’ll come over
Ask you for a drink
Then, another
Try not to make it overwhelmingly obvious
I’m not much of an actress
I tend to spill
Picture us in a field— me with a polaroid camera, you with a daffodil
We’d be happy in that still

Around you I don’t get emotional
Your presence just calms me down
Think that’s why I’m so eager to share with you the ground
Cover your walls to amplify surround sound
I’m a girl, not a musician
Don’t know why you do the things you do
Smoke a few in your kitchen
I stay quiet, you talk, I do nothing but listen
Any day of the week

You told me you read these
Let’s see
Are you lying to me?

Me with a polaroid camera
You with a daffodil
I created that in my mind, I’m still waiting until…


I’m a girl, not a musician
Don’t know why you do the things you do
Smoke a few in your kitchen
Nothing else I’d rather do




Poem: Cold coffee, prescription

Lilac Dove 



My lithium level is too high
I downloaded an app that helps me see the night sky
I bike on the trail by the river
I’m hesitant to ride next to cars
I’m a baby, but I just know how impulsive I can be
If I was in Chicago, I’d traverse the entire city
Flirt with cashiers to get free coffee
Who am I trying to be

Radiohead on rainy days
Trying to not revert to my old ways
It’s a gamble
How I want him
As a matter of fact
One of those things that won’t happen
But at least I like someone sane
Upgrade to first class
She went to the doctor; they found a mass
I come home and it’s home at last

I’m skeptical towards new things
I thought about packing up all my belongings
My diamond ring
I never thought about selling it
It never crossed my mind
Those were beautiful times
It’s winter now and I’m getting by
Cold coffee
Touching the pot when it’s warm
Closure doesn’t exist, stop calling me
Listen to voicemails when I’m sad
I wish there were some from my late dad
I wish he could be someone’s father-in-law
Wedding traditions

Here’s your prescription
Three times a day
I’m the girl with the fortitude
I miss the feeling of being understood
Nothing better than listening to the Neighbourhood
Makes any day tolerable
Who in your life makes you feel vulnerable?
For a while I was untouchable

I’ve got a penchant for listening to music in the shower
I watch the sunrise, I’m awake at that hour
I’m glad we’re not together because he’s such a coward
Perfectly fine with abusing his power
Moving on is hard, I admit
That’s just the reality of it

Doing things for yourself
To escape
A cassette tape
Glitter and blue ink
Life is best immersed in pink
I’m stable, what do you think?

No, tell me
What do you think?


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