Married To A Monster

not the kind you think of
when the word presents itself

there hasn’t been gifts
or flowers
or cakes

no declarations of love

I am veiled in quicksand
my ankles stolen
right from underneath me

A preacher speaking “blah, blah, blah, God” ….
and all that stuff

my dear family and friends
gathered around me
laughing

a single dove laying on
an altar
plugged into oxygen
plastic wrapped for perfection
suffocating

the caterer
with the smile of a thousand devils
reminds me to pay my bill

tonight we roast the dove

What Happens To Love

A blank sky starts out
and just like that
like embers flicking
popping
rising
from a camp fire

a Universe is on fire
holding hands
twisting fingertips
underneath precious metals
of an Earth

for the sake of intimacy
on black heels
in a month
like August
like seductive and
sweet

she is a golden pear
dangling fresh in the night air
all men have met her
at some point
she becomes bitter

after the picking
after the tasting
after familiarity increases

In The End

In the end, all that sleeps against your fresh
youth is an echo.

After the last words slide across instant
regret, the only thing that spends Saturday
mornings with you are the bones
of an old Review.

After tonight,
just remember the way your fingers interlocked
like you figured out a combination
of perfect timing
and lust.

Just remember, that’s all it was.

The Passage

The dragon doesn’t wake with the sun.  It is warmed
through mock light, on an affected cove.  It looks
like it could be made of mopani,
but he cannot tell colors
what they should be
and what they are not.

I left him a note, this morning, by his glass house.
In his rest, he inhaled the pushed warm air
that circulates my blood each night.
I promised him Aspen and Cabbage and
my return.

I am late.  I am always pushing the clock
into my lungs, back to my cycle,
back to little hands and little
feet swirling around
a glass house,
tearing cabbage for a dragon that
constantly stares at me.

Paperback is available on Amazon.com now!!!

Fountain of Confessions

Fountain Of Confessions On Amazon

Fountain Of Confessions

Fountain Of Confessions is now available on Amazon and Amazon Kindle. I look forward to hearing any feedback on it. Thank you so much!

Fountain Of Confessions

Hi Everyone!!

My 2nd book, Fountain Of Confessions, is going to be available through Amazon this week. I am so excited to share it with you. I am going through my emails for reviewers and getting in touch with some of you if you are still available.

If you’d like to do a review to post on your blog, I will be happy to send you an e-copy of the new book.

Thank you all so much for being here. Some of you have been here since the time I started this blog nearly 4 years ago!!!

I’ll be posting soon. Until then….

XOXOXO ~ MM

The People

Starved out of politeness, cockroach-kicked feet
walk across a blue night.
My lungs are stuck together, breathing in
radiation from the hot air
blown in my face.

The people, the people glow
white teeth at every camera. I see
the teapot boiling,
steam rising,
whistle blowing….

my ears ring out electric chords,
far from the classic, ghostly shadow
that sprawl across my nerves
when they start to shiver.

They eat very little,
or a lot, or they drink
or not,
or they lie and mispronounce their own
names on purpose and move around mountains
blending in with the tones of the town.

These people seem largely designed, I
walk on needles. I am little and not
proportionate. I dream about
ages, and eggs and other meals
that are not enough on their own.

Is anyone? Enough with just their teeth and
their camera and light?
“She’s only crazy,” says my mother.
And the hills are long monsters leaking
into my brain. I’m dizzy
and distorted. This image.
This image set up in sanity, or not.

Little Golden Girl

Sounds like you are lost
right behind where you are almost are
What are you doing here?
Swiping what I have to say about that?
It is I,
making sure that no thieves take the golden honey
from the hives.

We all are natural friends to befriend
the bees, but you have lost your way.
On the way, your treasure melts
away into a way to let go.
You’re almost there, save me!

Honey for everybody!
I hope I never see another world
covered in seagulls.
The bees are enough for me.
Little golden girl
you are perfect
in your comb
waiting for the right time to
find your way to where you almost
can be.

When The Fire Burns

I haven’t drank you for an hour,
or swallowed the sharks
swimming in your pale
manhood.
The road gobbled me up and
I do not miss your cancerous tongue,
all I smell is rubber
and all I want is the moon
to take me to bed
where I know what lives under
the sheets.

I know the blank ceiling page
and the rotation of the clouds,
I know how I cycle down,
a tornado scripture
burning my steeple to ash.

I translate you into languages unknown,
too complex for me to read,
the devil’s tongue,
a serpents spit,
a good muse when the fire rumbles
me to numbness.