PAD 27

There is anger resonating
and it unbalances the world.

PAD 26

I am drunk
on this whirlwind
called life or living.

PAD 25

I would ink my life
just the see an ending I already know.

PAD 24

I dream of you
faceless entity
and energy felt in the ether, familiar
but unknown.

PAD 23

My cells explode
multiply into a billion other pieces of me
a dividing particle
a tiny evolution under my skin.

PAD 22

When I dream
in color
I am always the heroine,
the savior; never
the saved.

PAD 21

I am the rain
drowning the city
devouring the pedestrians.

PAD 19

There's a song somewhere quiet;
playing on repeat
only your heart can hear its rhythm.

PAD 18

Even if I think about it everyday,
all day or
my daydreams have become so realistic
that I shiver walking
I will allow patience to prevail,
will allow my will the space to show-off.

PAD 17

Grey skies
streaking rain
and leaves.

Smeared pollen
dissolving new blossoms
and watering the concrete.

PAD 16

My hands are calloused
and scarred
chipped nails and stained
but they have lived
struggled, fought--
and they are mine.

PAD 15

It is the quiet that disturbs us the most...

PAD 14

When you gaze in the mirror
is it your reflections that stares back
or a shade of your past life looking pass
your gaze.

PAD 13

Drifting
we shift into newer skins
and newer selves.

PAD 12

I could spend lifetimes
curled in upon myself
swimming myself out through
the ocean of me.

PAD 11

Things I own:

A faulty heart,
scarred skin stretched over life-tensed bones.
A home,
old and getting older, but with a solid foundation-a warmth.
A terminally weak stomach,
knuckles spring broken, clenched against daylight.
A car,
small, but bigger than it looks, t.a.r.d.i.s. on wheels.
A brain that digests knowledge,
chipped and encrusted nail beds clawing for anything to hold me up.

PAD 10

There is a full body groove
in my couch, a mold
I could live in its comfortable arms.

PAD 9

These days are all blending down to one
a kaleidoscope,
mish-mash of blurred scenes.

PAD 8

When I think of this year
what I will see most will be static
white noise of trying to tune into the universe.

PAD 7

How can we forget chains?
They melted them down to forge bars and bullets.

PAD 6

They say if we
are more polite
sit up straighter
quantify our desires with more "pleases" and "thank you's"
and "yes sirs" and "ma'ams" and "boss"
If we are
quieter
neater
bow-tied and shoe-shined
They will allow us to survive and thrive--
up to a tangible point.

PAD 5 2015

Prayers hang in the air,
over-ripened fruit
desiring the universe because they asked politely.

They sing hymns
to the risen, the rose, the rising

The dead
or dying.  The shackled moaning.

A ghost

Apparitions of faith.

PAD 4 2015

Waves, we are lapping
at a shore that gets
Further and further away.

PAD 3 2015

We are standing in the precipice, watching
dark clouds roil
thunder makes spontaneous connections with the earth
and all we can do is secure ourselves
latch ourselves to life
and survive.

PAD 2

We are no longer at an intersection
or we are, but
not perpendicular streets
not in the same city
not even at the same time.

PAD 2015

I have affixed invisible tape to my eyelids
struggling to keep them open
to relive one more second of a half-dream.