Playing in a rain cloud

Exceptional girl,
waltzing in the cumulus
her loss is apparent

She teeters, arches and is immortalized
a brunette whirlwind
hiding visibly

Her pain only seen by those
who too, have been touched by thunder

Dramatic Language

That Wednesday morning I met a man with service boots
and an unlit cigarette clamped between his lips
He had penetrating, desperate eyes and a nervous,
rain-cloud mind, and he passed time by counting memories,
which he pulled out one by one.
He disappeared that year, out of the city and the gray
behind the veil of medical solutions,
he'd tried to kill his demons and feed them to the pigeons.
For one hour and sixteen minutes before he had been locked up,
All he had said to me was that there were decent people in the world,
and he pulled my hand and held it
to his warm and desperate heart.

Reflections in the Green Room

The girl, the score, her soundtrack,
playing on six, down on eight

oh New York City
The cradle of my ignorance
Where I starved and danced and sang
Where I claimed my title
as queen of the paint-stained underground
and orphan of sixth avenue
I am home in rain and sound
taxi horns and bitter coffee
in snow-dusted Central Park.
Here I could breath and paint and be
as ever I found myself able
fingers stained in oil and ink
hair tight in a bun
singing low under my breath....

"Blackbird, Blackbird , Blackbird bye bye"

Oh New York, your Jazz, you saved me
dancing in summer with girls in black
splashing in puddles and laughing
singing and finding my savior
in the eyes of passing strangers

The girl, the score, her soundtrack,
playing on six, down on eight
I'm going home,
I'm coming home

Courage as the Cure

What you need is courage
to suffer through the meteors
crashing upon tarnished silver wings
and burning like the acid poison
medication for the cancer
of a sickened little bird.
But also you need a fortitude
beyond the pull of gravity,
to spread and stretch beyond dark shadows
and corners of safety and silence
for those future soarings in a foreign sky
have no safety nets or guarantees,
just the wind,
made capricious by some violent planets upheaval,
some black blizzard eruption,
singing through the ozone
with awesome power
that tosses me about in the cloud-cast rivers
that weave throughout the horizon
to which I am future bound