By |


Her world is gray
Mine is a kaleidoscope.

She prefers the darkness
I adore the light.

Anxiety is the centerpiece of her existence
Joyous serendipity thrills my soul.

One of us is at peace
While the other yearns not to live.

I’m so weary of
This good cop/bad cop gig.

Are you happy being miserable?
It certainly seems that way to me.

I know I should be kind
But you tax what little patience I possess.

We urge you to get help
You reject and dismiss: Oh, but I’m fine.

You are not, however
Cloudy skies remain in your forecast.

Your persistent martyrdom
Takes a toll on us all.

Frustrations are high
With no end in sight.

Are you happy being miserable?
It certainly seems that way to me.

By |

In two-thousand seventeen
Fragile women remain
Harassments to advantages gained
And freedoms purchased
Via the tireless efforts
Of so many before us.

Weakness in women
Paints unflattering portraits
Of gender betrayals
Fainters and screamers,
Weepers and handwringers,
Inviters of contempt

Pathetic tributes to a bygone era
Inexcusable excesses
Of melodrama and manipulation
Causing injury to all:
The delicate, the strong
And those who strive for potency.

We are made culpable
For their deficiencies
By our shared biology
These tenuous flowers
Poison our gardens:
Such needless sabotage!

Their unwillingness to see
Their inability to thrive
Their eagerness to hold us back
Shackled in another age
We are our
Very own worst enemies.