Speaking your purple and pink language 

Speaking your purple and pink language

The words roll off your tongue like bubbles

Popping to the sound of your own melody 

Matching the bazooka Joe music of the radio 

Sound waves 


Into me 

Into you 

As you stroll the Invisble 


Across the room 

We are waiting for you 

To arrive 

One year 

In the future

Will you come? 

We wonder–



you texted so many times
complaining that you hadn’t heard
from your next door neighbor for days
I awoke to 77 or so texts between you
and our other sister
the worry in your voice
breaking through the tiny words on the screen
I told you to just
fucking call the cops
when it comes to things like that
there’s never time to worry
just time to act
and today
you told us
through text
that your neighbor is dead
Your fiancé
found him in a puddle of his
own vomit.
He had either overdosed
or just got sick
while he was
41 years old
wife just left him.
he checked in
and checked out
of a rehab.
didn’t like its structure.
wanted to do things his way.
what was he thinking in his
hovering over the bathroom sink
or maybe
falling in slow motion
onto the bathroom floor?
I hope that last sight or smell was somewhat
maybe that time you got a balloon
when you were 5 years old
flashed before you
or maybe it was one last final waft of
grandma’s cheesecake
before you hit the ground
before you took one

This night, tonight

What does it mean to have distinction
to have a unique and throbbing heart
a siren for all the world to see?
a mysterious cloak though,
hides your eyes
they wonder what you’re for
and what you mean
you make them question their
own existence
and if everything they’ve ever thought was real
is not–
the baby cries
it’s time for dusk
a bath
a quiet
what do you want
for yourself this night
this night
is mine
this night

The Cord

has been
designed especially for me
for us
the cord
bringing you sustenance
bringing you life
one of the many bonds that will
sustain us
that has sustained us
that will continue to sustain us
long after it has dried up and fallen off
it becomes invisible to others
yet you and I know it’s still there
synonymous with the cord
that ties my being to my mother
and her mother to her mother
and to all females
to all goddesses, to Mother Earth
and Father Sky
You and him
have brought forth this power
to he and I
and now us to her
and she will continue to drift
to develop her own
one link to another
a large chain of being

All Mine

I woke up this morning to a
denial letter.
You didn’t say why
You just said, “Sorry to say”
I wanted to know what was wrong with it–
the roaches?
the south bronx projects?
the brutal honesty?
Did it not sound enough like the poems you wanted
the bullshit you clearly think is good?
I thought I sounded like some of the greats
the women who fought against injustice
who rallied against anti-feminism
who spent time
line after line after line
recalling what we all know in our hearts
despite what generation we call our own
But I decided not to ask
in fear of further rejection
in fear of a truth
in fear of a lie
because I know
I’m quite fine
I know
because my writing is


The day has almost passed
I’m lying on the crimson colored bed
dreaming of your violet sanctuary
in the next room over:
Where the cherry blossom decal will go
Where the “C is for Cat” picture will hang
If I want to add the pink and lilac ribbon garland
above your head
and whether or not your tiny books
need bookshelves–

You and your mother are almost done
building the honey colored breakfast nook
Sage green cushions wait to be sat on
Zoya, our cat, has already tested them out
We think we might have gotten a wrong part
And so, my patience is being tried–
But it’s fine
I think
it will be fine–

It is fine.

Start a New Day

My eyes still closed–
blackness envelops

the bedroom and all
the space around me.

with my third eye,
I look down upon

the wax figure that
represents my being

and I blow air into it,
billowing like a balloon

until it swells to the edges,
leaving no more space

to fill, and here, I’ve
woken up, my eyes are

now open, and I’m almost
(almost) ready to start a new



The Breathing Universe

The moment of clarity
that descended upon me
as I walked down the street
coddled by gray skies
and still swaths of clouds
told me in an instant
that I am still a powerful woman
a dynamic set of molecules
integral to the thread that
makes up

the breathing universe–

TDK 90

Missing puzzle pieces
but they all FIT back then
and somehow we thought
they didn’t–

Memories cascading
down the back of my brain
adolescent dreams swarm up
and then a phone call–

I see us on playground
park benches smoking
cigarettes and eating chips,
chips I’ve ended up loving

for years, dreams I wish I
had seen come true, bathtubs
full of and overflowing water
cocaine on mirrors we did not

want to get wet and yet I
would not trade it for the
world, for all the missing
puzzle pieces, I want none of

it because they never were
missing, not missing then, not
missing now, just my jaded
and upside down perception

of a perfectly perfect imperfect
world with scars and bandaids
and tissue galore, the tape needs
to be turned over. I think I’ve

heard this song before…



Cat’s Meow

In the evening
the cat’s meow
for food.
It’s more like
which means
a certain someone
really wants food.
She’s hungry and
I don’t blame her.
After a long day
of sending out
radio waves of love
and balancing the
earth’s energy
and zapping all the
negative extra-
terrestrial voodoo
I don’t mind
feeding her