"the glass nativity"

there is no room for Christ
under the Christmas tree
so the glass nativity
sits alone on the corner table
lit by a single pillar candle
that reflects my wondering face
as I watch the holy family

the angel's wings fan them all
and the sheep bleat their amazement
while a hundred shepherds fall
on their knees

there are three wise men 
in the crowd
who have never been so dumbfounded
in their lives
they offer speechless gifts
and silent prayers to the tiny Messiah
who yawns and closes his dreamy eyes

so I smile and blow out the candle
but the nativity continues to glow
lit now by imagination
and the light of a single star

"peanut butter disco club"

standing alone on my own blue moon
your diamond-studded grin
crocodile tears and alligator shoes
come dance! (the ice is thin)

life's a Greek tragedy and you're the star
(my curse was plucked from a tree)
if infinity is forever, how long is now?
whose blood will set me free?

the summer soldiers have gone AWOL
this cigarette is dragging me down
(at the peanut butter disco club
you wouldn't dare to frown)

"need"

need to laugh
need to cry
(need to forget
we ever locked eyes)
need to scream
need to dance
(need to forget
the feel of your hands)
need to shout
need to sing
(and still I 
remember everything)
need to hide
need to win
(need to forget
all the places we've been)
need to run
need to change
(need to learn that alone
isn't strange)
need to leap
need to fly
(need to accept 
I'll never know why)

"I Wish"

I wish flowers were people ...
bright faces turned to the sun
in the glorious pursuit of a goal
far beyond their reach.

and I wish trees could talk ...
leaves shaking with laughter
and whispering secrets with a joy
no axe could kill.

and I wish clouds were cotton candy ...
delicious, sugary dream sheep
jumping the fence of my imagination
and lulling me peacefully to sleep.

and I wish snowflakes were ice cream ...
a thousand flavors floating fearlessly
and finding their rest
on the tip of my waiting tongue.

and I wish rainbows were music ...
every color a symphony
ending in a pot-of-gold finale
for those who dare to look.

"original sin"

It was an original sin.
At least, that's what they say.

It happened in the Garden of Eden,
when the fullness of Eve was sprung
from the bony rib of Adam.
Together they consumed the Forbidden Fruit
and in an eye's blink
discovered they had invented consequence.
Nudity went out of fashion,
quickly replaced with clothing
and shame.

(nonetheless)
They began to beget
and it wasn't long before
Cain was killing Abel
and sin had come into fashion
faster than nudity had gone out.
(as popular items do,
it had lost its originality
and all of its charm)

I guess they figured it was a fad.
Adam and Eve were merely
a short-lived sensation
made larger-than-life
by the mass-driven media
that congratulated the couple
and clamored for more.

Chaos theory aside,
I suppose they couldn't have known
how very enduring sin would be,
or how starting small could end so big.
No study of the ripple effect
could have prepared them
for the waves they were making.

But I think the real genius of it
lay in its novelty.

"Carpe Diem!"

"Carpe diem!"
you say,
"It could be your last."

As if the day
was something tangible -
a fish enticed by folly
to a hook bearing Death.
Gutted, scaled and dressed
with herbs,
then served proudly on a silver platter,
left only with glassy eyes
to take in the sights
at someone else's
highbrow dinner party.

Or a butterfly
netted for sacrifice -
identified, numbered and pinned
helplessly in a shadowbox
for reference at some later date.

But it's not that simple.
Life never is.

I have splintered more than one
fishing pole playing tug-of-war,
not to mention that legendary fish
known simply as "the one that got away."
(I have yet to hook that one!)

Butterflies are fragile,
poorly suited to the harsh reality
of nets and shadowboxes.
(and who was the first
to impale one
in the name of science?)

When all is said and done,
the only item in my day-seizing arsenal
is a pair of small hands.

Ten fumbling fingers, 
and a life that's fleeting.
(can you blame me
for feeling inadequate?)

"the nonconformist"

she often wanders
(casually naked)
among orthodox people

gasps (!) and shrieks (!)
and wagging fingers

... trail her like bloodhounds

the ordinary ones
cannot understand
a mind without shame
(and they need binoculars
just to see past their
pointed, sniffing noses)

so she grins and prances on,
scattering 
the jaded, gawking crowd.

"woman"

I am woman.
Unabashedly,
I bleed 
and refuse 
to cage my tears.
I can
(will)
change my mind
as easily 
as you change
your clothes.
I do not seek
(need)
your approval.
I am spiritual.
I am gifted.
I am strong.
I can be
invisible.
But I will
never
do it
to please you.

"whitewash"

she looked at the cross
(how can blood whitewash a soul?)
and fell on her knees
(take this cup from me!)
as she gave up her heart
(forgive me, love me, save me)
and died a thousand deaths
(betrayed with a kiss)
only to rise again
(feel the wounds, Thomas)
on the Third Day
(the tomb is empty!)
and forever
(amen.)

"only human"

seven times seventy
all the way to infinity
(that's how many chances
I was supposed to get)

but I guess you can't forgive me
for being human
(I just want to know
what happened to forever)