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Has it really been
a month since I told you all
about my day, dear?

Earthworms emerge, splayed
across sidewalks, tender skin
snags on rough concrete.

An adult blankie.
To take one from its owner
will make grown men cry.

Hunched and hobbling I
move as if years older, a
taste of what’s to come.

Incrementally
I clean unearthing a clear
space on the table.

Wan, pale, red-eyed, she’s
the poster wife of Wynette’s
song, “Stand By Your Man.”

While I throw pennies
into a coin jar, Bear Stearns
gets a big bailout.

posted to my Twitter account

I need sleep, but I * need to work but I need sleep * to work can’t think straight.

Left in Manhattan
cab. Friends’ numbers, pix of my
kids in strangers’ hands.

Spring ahead and lose
an hour. What I could have done
in that length of time…

“We’re domestic,” a
blonde woman tells her daughter
in line at the gate.

On a cluttered Queens
balcony he stands, watching
the complex decay.

Just over five months
This one four hundred fifty
Art or wasted time?

A haiku a day?
Not quite. Some days the tap runs,
some days it’s bone dry.

Accomplished nothing
’til I took Motrin a whip
that tamed this tiger

He drank to excess
so why am I the one with
the splitting headacne?

What of those born on
the 29th, their birthday
once every four years?

Teenager curled up
becomes baby J who’s glad
that mommy’s  nearby.

After the illness
taste dulls on the tongue, food just
fuel to run this husk.

Reality makes
me sick. Going through laugh track
cop show withdrawal.

He had a dream but
his murder was our nightmare.
It’s time to wake up.

In a misguided
effort I peeled off half my
face and left the hair.

Today was her last
day on a job I said ‘don’t
quit’ two years ago.

Some people like to
cook. Then there’s me who dreads that
thing called dinner hour.

Intention shines high
above like a star I see
and dream of reaching.

My fingers talk my
eyes listen my head makes it
up my heart hungers.

Commute through fiber
optic cable to a home
built by words not deeds

Sleep gently takes you,
like the lethal injection
you cannot resist.

I’ll Dramamine my
self into torpidity,
sleep through drink service.

separating the
non-essential from the much
needed is painful.

Not enough time for
cookies, cards, decorating.
Which one do I skip?

God rest ye merry
gentlemen? I don’t see them
lifting a finger!

If I could shoot my
eye out with that thing, I’d just
sit and watch TV.

Only if you’re not
the one doing the shopping,
cleaning and baking.

Like catching snowflakes,
this melts quickly from the heat
of a stressful month.

If you had to pick,
what sense would you sacrifice?
Impossible choice.

My spare bedroom holds
many possibilities
under all that junk.

Soldiers wear helmets.
Women wear makeup, styled hair.
Our mode of defense.

Could I love you if
we did not touch, if I did
not mark you as mine?

The house of my heart
is white, clean, pure. No windows,
doors. No visitors.

We bring it home, put
it on life support so we
can hang ornaments.

Sad orphans ripped from
the forest stretch out their limbs
pleading, ‘Take *me* home.”