“I wonder if the sap is stirring yet,
If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate,
If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun
And crocus fires are kindling one by one:
Sing robin, sing:
I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring.”
–  Christina Rossetti

uno dos tres


Harpies in everyday life #6

A trio of yellow claws clutch non-fat lattes

silk and suede feathers reek of carrion

stiletto heels are smeared with foul droppings
Pink stained pouts drip poison

chic bobbed heads dip in unison then

bony chins point to the rafters
They warble their triumph

Some spiteful god has me in his sights

and no classical Jason will drive them all away

One, Two, Three!

Definition of HARPY

1capitalized : a foul malign creature in Greek mythology that is part woman and part bird

a : a predatory person : leech b : a shrewish woman

Merriam Webster Dictionary


“Don’t criticize what you can’t understand.”
Bob Dylan



Mistresses of the sidelong glance, pursed lips and narrowed eyes

their claws out in anticipation.

An interloper will not obey group norms

byzantine to all

but their inbred nucleus.

Heads adjoined, a hydra of bile,

they spew a lethal cocktail of hatred and malice,

a blitzkrieg of pettiness, innuendo and spite

thoroughly and relentlessly as a conqueror razes a city.

They drag her through the noxious sludge of degradation.

Inevitable denouement is ostracism final as ancient Athens,

a surgical cut

until she is laid bare,

her spirit torn to dirty scraps pelted by the wind.

Satisfied, they begin once more.





You have survived January nights at 30 below

dodged trucks careening down back alleys

sensed bogus treats of antifreeze

eluded budding psychos who would duct tape your legs together

and leave you on the railway tracks.

Your coat is ginger clotted hairballs

raised bloody scars criss-cross your broad skull with its ragged ears.

Your ribs show and your belly is slack so you accept the food

warily at first, then gulp it down


to look behind you.

Then you are off to familiar haunts of alleys and derelict buildings

rife with predators

stronger and bigger than you.

But your claws are still sharp, teeth like needles and legs supple to carry

you away from danger.

And you will live to fight another day.


enfant méchant

Carol’s Mom 

When she smiles no crows feet MotherDaughterApronsPromo1pleat the corners of her eyes

or laugh lines groove around her mouth.

Fogged up glasses don’t slide to the tip of her nose

while she squints at her sewing.

No cigarette wobbles from the side of her mouth drizzling


or underarms flap when she waves.

Her hair is curled to a neat blonde casque

no Medusa grey coils dangle from her kerchief.

No greenish blue veins snake their way up her legs

or broad hips sway like a dray mare.

instead there is you

to cook my meals, wash my clothes , wipe my tears

and know that I wish that you were not my mother.





Feline logic dictates that you must

Leave white fur on my black sweaters

Upend defenceless house plants just for spite

Find my can of tuna on the kitchen counter

Fling cat litter helter skelter

Yet curl up by my side, yawn and sleep the sleep of innocents




Squinting in the sun

your hand lifts to shield your pale blue eyes.

You smile, tentative at first, then stretches wide.

Freckles sprinkle across your upturned nose.

Your laugh: a silvery chime that speaks of endless summer days, picnics and popsicles.












It was the first time

and it wouldn’t be the last

I hesitate

look back and consider

Should I return your volley

pretend to be flattered
blush and smile

act out the age old dance

a white ring untouched by sun on your left hand

stick figure art and grocery lists trail from your case

breakfast eggs a tell-tale blot

on your well-pressed shirt


You scan the room as I look away

senses keen for tick of biological clocks raging pheromones

maybe if you find

another she will want to play

Opening Line