hera

see the depth – it is forever,
the swirling, ever-changing meaning of
her role – a never fixed mark.
she has the power of no men – but bestows her own and may
give earth, breath, birth,
through lurking in the recesses could be
medusa, monster, myth, or man.
giving life is giving freedom -
when does the giving end?
she may stop after infinity,
for even after moving past life
there are shrines, temples, paintings;
giving to the faceless worshippers
some solace, or secret strength
to be held on the inside – never revealed.
it is not immortality,
it is piecing yourself away to strangers
and kin alike, whether giving
judgement, giving topic, meaning,
rarely taking or receiving a return.
what is the best way? to win the heart
of the world – the heart of men?
capture their lust, their pants and desire
and they will see you as a woman.
or you may appeal to their minds and achieve a meeting –
command, be wise, and go that way
they will see you as a woman.
for when do men stop being men?
i say, they never have.
would women stop being women?
and lose all encompassing change?
to be celestial, to be a harlot
and still be the same.
only birthing divinity and to be
remembered only in connection –
attached, though the breast was giv’n up long ago.
a woman means being a fluid object –
feet set firmly in reality –
she may spray her milk to create what she chooses,
choice being what is claimed as her own.
perhaps she will be a tyrant, a jealous queen,
but who would accept such terms?
no man, for certain – so she rips at her hair,
she plots and stops, she fails and succeeds
and mortals think her the lesser, the weaker,
but she holds the pomegranate in her fist
endless seeds contained in a globe of blood;
flesh holding her in the palm of her hand
to protect or to kill, to provide or withdraw.
she will be everything – she will cry out
with frustration at her station in life:
a goddess but not a god – divine but not a man.

sonnet

yes, i am a captive in my own mind
you ask me often what is wrong with me –
some thing, you think, invented in my mind.
instead you need to turn your head around
and look at the world through eyes looking new
and place your ears on the placing of your heart
and be so beleaguered with feelings new
that you cannot speak – only sit still and breathe
this is everyday for me – a breathlessness
for all the things ignored and written off
my fingers will write until breathlessness
releases them to be free and say to you
what your own heart should say – ‘hold fast, hold fast’
soon the unknown will be known and you will
lose all knowledge. learn while the light holds fast
and stay the night with me. i will teach you.

the art of critique

only hot girls buy those coats
they must not allow the ugly ones to buy them.
no, it’s because the fat ones won’t
they know they’re for the hot femmes.

and the ugly girls are depressed
and that makes them have no style
they get dressed simply to get dressed
and stop being naked for a while.

only insecure people are nice.
they think that if they’re polite and smile
other people won’t realize
that they’re ugly and plain, and while

it’s possible that they are genuinely sweet
and that the pretty girls really are just bitches,
society encourages the behavior to keep
on enduring, because they don’t care which

girls are ugly, only which ones are pretty -
so they don’t notice that the uglies
are the nice ones, and the pretty
anes are rude and bitches and sluts and uglies

on the inside. (cliché, I know)
and there is more to the pretties
than I am saying here and now,
but that is what it is to critique -

to say your own opinion as fact
and to ignore the other side of things
and while you secretly feel bad
you enjoy the excitement of being mean.

sestina

i do not want to be left behind.
it is the one thing in life i fear.
i don’t know if there is a heaven -
i know people who say that they know
but not me - so i say we should hold
on to each other so we can stay.

and what i mean when i say “stay”
is that you should not leave me behind
or leave me without something to hold
like your hand or body because fear
makes you embrace the one that you know
can take you to the only heaven

that is now and here. without heaven
of you/me there is no reason to stay
either here or there because we know
nothing like this exists. leave behind
all “romance” all “cynic” and all “fear”
let “truth” wash over us – for we hold

time unending in mind/heart. but hold
ing on gets hard and even heaven
becomes just here – we may replace fear
of loss with self/selfish. i say “stay
and be stayed” and then we’ll leave behind
notions of needing to “know” or know

that green pasture of poison for know
ing is unneeded. if we will hold
on even when we’re sick of “behind”
or body or burdy or heaven -
because we don’t make adam/eve stay
…they choose…to be together in fear

ing and loving and - talk about fear -
raising the species and yes, we know
they’re fiction but we can do the “stay”
of till death parts us and even hold
hands until we get to some ‘heaven’
or life after life is left behind.

so, love or “love,” we won’t fear to stay
or say - i don’t know what is heaven -
just hold on till nothing’s left behind.

this is just to say

i have fallen
in love
with the man
in the mirror

which you will
probably find
ridiculously
romantic

but that's me
and you
romance
in real life