"It's about words, and words are all I have…"


leo inside pony

Leo Dicaprio inside the gut of a pony  The Revenant



falling spotted pony   a splayed+blood-soaked chiaroscuro

enters my bedroom at 2:30 a.m.   blood seeping into white  entry-level-

mercedez  carpet   entrails a steaming heap next to the cherry armoire

(a woman must have cherry said Moe  furniture salesman extraordinaire)

i rise from the curly-maple bed  (our bedroom an urban forest   husband

resists wife’s efforts to metro-sexualize his soul)


the spotted pony has my name written all over it   i see that i could easily

fill its womb-tomb cavity   husband says with a smile: it stinks in there city-girl 

i crawl in  with Tom Ford’s  sin-in-a-bottle  clutched firmly in hand    soon i

forget the deaths of some sweet ladies we know   i danced the tarantella with

one   a mere 2 weeks ago


inside the pony i am warm+wet+bloody   it is o so familiar    now an urban-girl

revenant?  a pony soaked Persephone whose name is Spring in 7 languages?

one might think aviva an expert on:  resurrection!   reinvention!    think again

this spotted pony   is growing on me   i may not come out until Spring    or Fall





Almost Spring 2016


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