The Rule of Three

To whip or be whipped that is the question.

An eye for an eye made our world blind


Using tried and true assistive devices

Walked a crooked mile with a crooked smile




Got off spinning too fast on a merry go round 

The choke of it all

Fated till the end?

An accounting



Here’s your charm Cindy

Candace Michelle


Shelly Johanna


Rachel Anne


Daughters of Lucinda Jeanine

03/10/1949  –  10/08/1949

Pride of America

Good night white pride.


How do you wash the filth off?



It’s time to wake up America.

Gassing starts at midnight.


“Organ grinders music in the yard.

Lucky fortune wrapped in rosy paper.

Knock knock, who’s there, it’s Adolf’s heartchen knocking.”

                                                      –  Wisława Szymborska


I hear the grinding of organs.

Carbon monoxide poisoning turns the skin red.

White supremacy, nazis, haven’t a heart. 



History repeats itself.


Divide and conquer.


Protestors vs Rioters.

Black women vs. White women.

Peaceful vs. Violent


Who’s my ally?


The perfect soundbite.

A succinct meme.

Flesh and blood.

Lungs gasping, tears falling.


An avatar.


A hoarder delights.


He threw me down in the car and choked me in front of my kids.

He raped me as my 7 year old son listened from the next room.


You punished me for failure to protect.

The court questioned my ability to house, feed and provide healthcare.


Look at you now, American pride.

Patriarchy gone wild.


I’m Here Now

I’d like to be touched again.

Touched without my shadow.


Touched like a real girl.

A clean girl.

A clean girl who likes to get dirty.


I married a man who doesn’t like touch.

Ashamed to touch.

Awkward with his touch.

Purposeful but meaningless with his touch.


I’m a girl who has been touched.

Who craves touch.

Even when it hurts.


Touch me in the sunlight.

In the backseat of a car.

Just touch me.

Remind me, I’m there.