Elegant lines chased in black against a porcelain white. Lady, standing all alone, who’s your lover tonight? Half-turned and prepared, perhaps to smile or refrain, those and more are jealous, would you dance with the likes of us? Daughter Aphrodite, cool and shy, would your…

I can feel it in my bones, i get nervous and itchy, when in the mid afternoon slowly descends on the city the evening fog. It will cloud us, isolate and underline our loneliness, even in the mid afternoon it will seem like bed time,…

A marvelous artist with a perfect eye captured her better than a photographers’ lens.  Her countenance stood out from the shadows showing the victory over her pain.  Her porcelain skin was flawless and yet looked cold to touch.  She now lived comfortably in her soft, black velvet…

Ice cream calls me now from five miles away craving shiver me belly

At the twenty-first hour of consciousness, When my cortex has been Sliced, Lightly battered, Deep-fried, And garnished with lime, A spider crawls into my ear. It travels up the aural canal, Gets to the ear drum and says, “Hey, I want to go further. I’m…

Here she stands in her velvet black dress, will that do for my husband’s funeral, she thinks. he loves that dress so much, I wore it so often people thought we couldnt afford another one or that he was too tight to spend money on…

Why will she not look at me? With her auburn hair and hidden eyes. She’s just standing there, by the table Her hand resting on its edge. Her golden straps sit smartly Against her fair fair skin. Her sleek black dress fits her form She…

the green velour of dress was all anyone remembered; it smelled of moss on an Irish treasure hunt and hung on her china white body like a drape of softness, alluring; it was the color of a good chardonnay bottle after imbibing upon it all…

I lost my shoe, my new shoe, never worn just in the shop, how did i manage that, did i just take one out of the box and then walk away did the shop just let me go with on shoe in the box. I…

Three VCS The hour has come When it is darkest And eyelids close and all grows weary Each hour is exponential to the last only two more to go one, two, three Three in the morning and three poems in a row