empowerment haiku

 

who is powerful?

brown cows, green avacodos?

fish oil peaks tuna.

Advertisements

the alligator beneath my wings

i.

my daddy was an alligator wrastler.

i was never dangerous enough or verdant enough to woo.

i used to try to distract him from his gator grappling

with one girl synchronized aquatic ballets

or dangling baby salamanders from my ear lobes.

listen to me daddy,

see me daddy,

pappa, can you hear me,

as you climb the jacob’s ladder out from beneath our toes as we steal

your amber blush rose cross to the lotus rich marsh in the azure.

ii.

my 2 cents.

illustratins on a stool.

men hide behind words.

women hide below pictures.

word and picture, mythical, magic mirror mirage.

iii.

where is the third nail?

“get off the cross, mary, we need the wood!”

he wonders if it  is late enough at night for morning wood.

he silently admonishes him for being a have playing

he imagines what having him tastes like.

nails across buttocks.

persecution sipped slowly.

frank and fireworks

10th Street….

“Hurry, get Frank! She’s waving a pistol on some lady’s porch!”

“Where is he?”

“Just find him!’

“Honey, what’s wrong? Put the gun down and tell me?”

“Your son beat my boy and took his twenty dollars. I want it back.”

“Here, take my twenty dollars. I just want to squash this.”

“NO, I want his!”

“He’s not here.”

She starts wailing and swinging the gun around the lady’s front porch.

Grady Avenue…

“Sounds like someone’s shooting off some fireworks,” she smiles.

marine martial arts

“You’re an ex Marine?”

“There’s no such thing as an EX Marine! How old are you?”

“19.”

“My son is 21. I’ll tell the truth to save the devil. We were the first to go in, last to get out. I’m trained, fine, for death. I’m invincible, but a teardrop can kill me. You don’t know. You’re just a baby. How old are you?’

“19, sir.”

“My son is 21.”