April 1:
“When a person shows you his/her teeth,
it doesn’t always mean he/she is smiling,”
April 2:
Her sister tried to warn her: but she saw
his practiced grin under a mask—
April 3:
Now she’s running in a red desert to music;
seeing all the footsteps she’d made behind her when stopping,
April 4:
this vivacious girl never stops moving
even while asleep & dreaming.
April 5:
When we are asleep,
others see that we were all children once–
April 6:
Her lovers become birds with golden-tipped wings;
they transform into fish as they hit the water,
April 7:
While real teenagers in hospitals
wear tongue depressor crowns for their prom,
April 8:
The Pink Supermoon rises
after the street shouts; before the misty morning.
April 9:
“Some days are diamonds, some days are rocks” (from Tom Perry’s Walls (Circus))
She wonders if this day would become a diamond—
April 10:
Her hair matted & twisted from sleep,
she kicked the bathtub as if she was a mermaid.
April 11:
Today’s uncertainty is worn
like a fur coat pelted by fake blood—
April 12:
Found like an egg; caught like a rascally rabbit,
sending Easter greetings to those who practice (not me, Darlings! Can’t help it…)
April 13:
In a bag of water,
there was a bruised human heart, glowing—
April 14:
Words are needed today.
Will these become the right ones?
April 15:
Crossing-over—watching male/female groupies done up,
pumping early ‘80s music made for the holy catwalk,
April 16:
and when I made friends with one of the dark corners of the dance club,
she with teal blue hair, came to meet up my full lips with hers—
April 17:
Like Frida Kahlo, she was on fire;
seeing her toes dip out of the water in her NYC bathtub,
April 18:
she cried: “When my big mama check comes in,
“I’m touring Japan, when the world’s safe again…”
April 19:
But she was still haunted by 1995’s Oklahoma City;
McVeigh’s bomb crumbled the Alfred P. Murrah Federal building into an ashen, gutted cake piece
April 20:
So she broke the invisible, tactile tension of the said Universe,
to gain sensation back in her fingers—
April 21:
Still high from her radio show debut,
she fell down towards Earth, as the sky opened up
April 22:
Hovering over a river, she inhaled;
breaking tension with a steady exhale—Earth blooming
April 23:
“But—I wonder,” she said, “After Shakespeare took a shit,
he then wrote another amazing sonnet?”
April 24:
Suddenly, her heart broke, hidden behind her sensitive bosom:
“When will this sick sadness ever stop?” she questioned out loud—
April 25:
She found herself in the mountains, in an old country house
surrounded by green trees, short grasses & wildflowers
April 26:
The silent meditation of the countryside
was interrupted by loud chattering of migrating birds—
April 27:
Zooming into the virtual world, she spoke with people in Paris,
Morocco, Abu Dhabi, North Carolina, New Orleans, Boston & New York City
April 28:
Head’s too busy; she blinked back into her apartment’s sweet bed,
her world tour was just a wonderful dream—
April 29:
In the flesh, her sister now looks like a baby Goth;
it’s the first time she’s seen her since her cancer diagnosis—
April 30:
After their dinner, she drifted to sleep listening to the last song on her playlist;
it’s the song everyone will remember—