It started with Poetry...

I began writing in a diary as a young girl, and that led to writing poetry. After that i wanted more, and started writing short stories (like these):

The House of Escher
Tristoon the Incorrigible
True Blue Colors
Chickens Come Home
Dinky's Demise
Therefore I Am
Salem House Trials
Punkin's Big Adventure

....and it wasn't long before i felt those forms were just not big enough to hold what i really wanted to do, so after being an avid book reader (mostly fiction, then, from authors such as Edgar Rice Burroughs, and strangely, far too many sappy harlequin romances). Then I moved on to reading a lot of lesbian literature. I was disappointed in the offerings there and wanted to write a lesbian book that *I* would like to read...and that became my first novel, As You Were. Then it was Armchair Detective, and then i just couldn't stop. I still write poetry periodically, when i feel the subject needs a concise sort of sound byte, but I focus on book writing now. Here are a few poems I wrote most recently.


CRUSH


Sometimes I wonder if I’ll get through it~
this solitude foisted upon me by fate.

I wonder why she doesn’t call me?
Must I do everything?
and nothing

Even when everything feels like nothing,
and nothing, everything?


ALREADY


I already love her mind.
I already love her words.
I already love the parts of herself she reveals to me in herds
of raw, broken, struggling, yet
completely filled vessels of hope and
understanding. I’m not demanding
totally sodden with angst,
yet pure, unfettered, passionate, real.
A bargain on hearts, today, mine’s a steal.

I don’t know where this thing will go
knowing, yet knowing, I cannot know
wishing and hoping, that floating hope
I’m holding the wrong end of the rope
relating the angst of the things we do
feeling connection, connection anew
reaching for content, my spirit breaks through
I could fall for someone a lot like you.


CHOICE STARVATION

A glimpse of perfection from stony blindness.
Trembling through the tenuous tension
of good and evil.
Respect me, I am a person,
my opinion matters.

External motivations are inherently worthless
Down the hatch.
But it’s only cappuccino
Forcing the gates of symbolism,
Reflecting tender fears.

I hear you calling my name
grey moon above,
and midnight descends with
this poet’s tears.


RAPTURE

Silver shadows leap like gazelles,
lightning bends the dark,
the candle bends our will.
With every breath between
I dream of the dopamine
rush
your lips quiver
your hips rise
and we move beyond
vibrant eons of holy light.


NOVELIST


Rain gently pats the roof
Offering wet perception
And the ink blots spread
Into blurred patterns
This is reality.
Keys, the new paintbrush of linguistic imagination
Attuned to the heartbeat of silence,
The ecstasy of zero.
A thousand screams, a thousand pains
–for a moment, the horizon
lines with warriors for someone else’s war.
The past is just the past
Forever with me
washed with the blue tint of winter.



FAT CROWDS

I sit at the bar, cigarette in hand,
And worlds beyond:
Sultry skies mixed with sea hues of grey and blue
My brain sleeps, yet in that moment
I fuck desire.
Heed the writing on the walls.
As fat crowds fill the streets;
Searching for what?

I hold autumn close, squeezing her ass,
a pitiful tangle of dreams gather;
plastic gadgets for plastic people,
use your plastic card,
Where the inner self meets a soulless void
bickering lips suck champagne.
And fat crowds drain from the streets,
doors slamming.

My hot breath fights against the wind.
I walk the promenade, gliding
And gone.


BACK TO SWEETNESS

Just you,
unresponsive
bickering, in your T-shirt
and panties.
Can you be satisfied?

Gliding in, I shove you hard
onto the bed.
The sky cracks as if slashed by a knife.
Let it feast on the air
while i feast on you.

Binding you with hidden fetters
I produce my scissors,
cut your cotton off,
Partaking of worlds both visible
and veiled,
Undiluted and unpolluted,
you growl at me
as I conquer you and your
angry fountain,
lead you back to love,
bring you into sweetness
again.


Shadow Wings

Dress me in shadow wings
Flesh blends to one race of night and void.
But the shadows orchestrate the sun,
Thinking of the warmth and newness of the day
below galaxies of spiraling stars
Riding the amplitudes of darkness,
each bursting bubble
an infrequent upsurge of glamorous spells
Untenable and beyond comprehension.

Dress me in Shadow wings
Like a dragonfly who cannot produce fire
Colors scintillating into the ether
Weaved and flossed
Moon reflections reflecting.
Nothing soothes the night.