I am not Dorothy
I was caught up
between the floral bitches
and the witches haze
lost be`neath the thunder
of plastic bridges; I am not Dorothy
lost in her blinding oz`s maze
and these tracks I bury
in my staggered path
are all that I have left
to remind ~
the dirt fields trenched
have been migrated and excavated
and they split through my legs
like valleys in rows of sacks and salt
my cunt bleeds produces seeds
tulips beg for a drib of sip of yore;
in my mind, I climb the highest tower
I have power to take flight
and when I let go to sow
snow white in her whites
lightening eclipses with my body …
and I become one with the sky;
and so high my immorals fly
I feel like a ma`ruin`d canary buried within
a red crow cocooning within a graying eagle,
you say that I am
but a feathered enigma to your touch
that I am one failure you cannot solve
nor resolve or absolve
for truth`s be told;
I am a red splintered
glass slipper
I will only drop my house
on you
I am much to penetrated
within your tornados
DIVA of DARKNESS 
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