Monday, December 26, 2011

Ace of Cups

Sugary words lashing 
Oh my wounded heart is so hopeful
Each lick makes my soul swell
This crush is like sweet water
Quenching, life giving
To this thirsty cowgirl
Texas sized palpitations
Pumping and raging
make my love grow 
Scarred and kicked
no way of knowing
If I'll be destroyed
If I'll be adored 
and in turn adore

Friday, December 23, 2011

Rusty cowgirl

Old dusty road
Babbling bubbling inner dialogue  crooked spine
 soul on fire
True grit
Trekking through the rows of houses 
Children, lovers, mamas n papas
All gathered around together
Laughing, cooking 
Sayin grace,
 looking at family pictures 
 building stories
Nostalgia  in a thick, dreamy haze fills my brain 
as I walk alone
been here before
The fiery maple leaves 
crest in waves 
 perfect wrought iron fence
 protects a brightly lit house 
 blinking red and gold lights 
 electric candy 
 this time of year
 so lonesome 
I could cry
 the well's run dry 
I was an ocean
Always a cowgirl
Don't fence me in 
and I will be a river

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

My Texas heart is full.

I am from a broken down F150 in the yard, its camper proudly displaying rotting rose printed curtains and two big mouth bass decals on the sides. It sits there still in a wild flower jungle full of old tools and night mares.

I am from fire crystals that made so many fires into what looked just like Chinese New Year with the people you love. Nights spent under the biggest skies laughing and telling stories on hay bales

I am from "I got it at the getting place" and endless beatings. Nights spent hiding from the whiskey monster.

I am from bb guns, riding bikes past the dump, and pulling nails out of windows to sneak out into the unknown.

I am from skinned knees and climbing trees, watching the sunset everyday and feeding the horses grass.

I am from truth or dare, Vietnam veterans, broken old men and sleeping under bridges.

I am from dancing naked in the rain, breaking into swimming pools and riding the spinnaker at Six Flags over  and over. Always riding alone cuz it made me slide to the back of the car and giggle while Arlington spun past me.

I am from catching perch off the dock, baitin' the trotline and picking dinner from the garden. The fried catfish, fresh sliced tomatoes with salt, fried okra and sun tea were  devoured after saying grace.

I am from long distance trucking, sneaking out dads whiskey and hiding in abandoned houses.

I am from skinny dipping, lightning bugs and June bugs rattling screen doors.

I am from locusts  calling out in waves, cottonwood floating and giant willow trees to nap under.

My heart is red and sweet, it pounds like a bull thundering across open prairie.

" Hard to be soft,
tough to be tender. "

"Too young to hold on,
And too old to just break free and run."

I am stoking my own fire. It's a good heat I'm building to last.

Sunday, December 18, 2011



Electricity flashes through my brain
as I think of you coming into the house.   I'm soaping my thighs, hips and ankles as I fantasize that your hands are on my body. I hear your deep rumbling voice tell me I'm such a good girl. I feel your strong hands circle my thighs, the back of my knee, the bell of my ass. You hug my body while your on your knees behind me. You kiss my hips slowly while the warm water rushes down to my toes.  You taste me, testing the waters. I spread my legs saying "drink me". You bury your mouth in my pussy from behind lapping at my clit and I shudder. I feel your urgency to explore and let you dive into my body head first. You lick me over and over working your way into my ass. I'm quaking now. My legs are like jelly. You put me on my knees in my room. Still dripping wet the both of us are. I'm blind folded and quiet. I feel the air rushing, but it's too late to wince before the paddle cracks my ass. The sting flows like lava.  My instinct takes over and I back up into the air like a cat in heat. I feel your fingers on my head delicately 
curl a fistful of my hair holding me in place. "Down" you tell me. I sit back on my haunches whimpering. 

My lover the sea

My Lover the Sea

I am that child with the round, dirty face
who on every corner bothers you with his
"can you spare a quarter?"
I am that child with the dirty face
no doubt unwanted
that from far away contemplates coaches
where other children
emit laughter and jump up and down considerably

I am that unlikeable child
definitely unwanted
with the round dirty face
who before the giant street lights or
under the grandames also illuminated
or in front of the little girls that seem to levitate
projects the insult of his dirty face

I am that angry and lonely child of always,
that throws you the insult of that angry child of always
and warns you:
if hypocritically you pat me on the head
I would take that opportunity to steal your wallet.

I am that child of always
before the panorama of imminent terror,
imminent leprosy, imminent fleas,
of offenses and the imminent crime.

I am that repulsive child that improvises a bed
out of an old cardboard box and waits,
certain that you will accompany me.

- Reinaldo Arenas (1943-1990)