OK, Cupid

My still heart beating around
 my fixed gaze,
mischievous imp mocks me,
 places a bow in my manikin hand
 and an arrow in my wooden fingers.
His ruddy flesh fashions my limbs
 into a dangerous tension.
In my disbelief I hear
 his flushed cheeks command:
“Take her out!”

Small Country’s Cost of Freedom, for me.

A small country ships the bulk of their export in one day to the US.

I’m stuck in prison. My country uses all their coniving to launch military resistance to get me out, sacrificing a whole years worth of export plus relations to the US for me.


A Dracula is never a cure for a headache.
At times, I need some beautiful soul
 to drive a wooden stake through my heart
 to get the point.

Knowing Mother

Oh, mama, you laugh at me too much
 with your knowing smile.
What have I got myself into this time?
Regard as little tears and snot rubbed all over my sleeve,
 as if the ripping of my subject from my little hand
  was all just a bad dream.
With loving eyes you take me all in
 and send me out to recess again.


Nothing worthwhile ever gets done.
When it’s finished, where’s the fun?
For whom do you want to make this past?
Aye, for them with whom we hope we’ll last.