Winter Wanderlust

Oh, to be alone with you
in the snows of a perfect winter...
The concept itself is a curious finger,
pushing buttons and evoking
little gasps of ecstasy from my breast!
Alas, the snows and ice lay too cold
on the ground,
and on your heart.
The only difference, of course,
is the ground will thaw come Springtime.

the morning after

am i nothing
but the crusty eyebooger
in your sleepy elevenoclock winter eye
you knuckle it away up on your feet
we wont share breakfast or blankets or coats
i am the dust now on your shag carpet
dug deeper with every step of your red-laced boot
and even her satin high heels

All I Want for Christmas!

These are my Christmas presents.

My family thinks practicality is cool. This is a file box for my important documents.

Anyone wanna tell my why Blogger decided to turn all my pictures sideways? This is a coffee-table book of sorts, featuring 1,000 pages from artists' journals.

An herb garden, featuring oregano, chives, cilantro, and something else.

An egg poacher. Once again, practicality is key.

Cupcake cups!!!

These match my new jacket!

The tradition in my family is that I must get a coloring book for Christmas. It is important.

Tasty things!

A hedgehog and a journal

A candle, crayons, and paperclips...

Yankee candle

A candle for Truckie.

My mother knows I have an addiction to keychains.

This is the best present evar.

A gig bag for my keyboard FINALLY

A wicked blanket that turns into a pillow made by my grandma

A bunch of goodwill clothes and directions on how to destroy them

A side of a WWII fighter plane with a pinup girl painted on it. WOO! It's got bulletholes and everything!

Buon Natale!

Christmas at my Nonna's house. Eating manicotti.

Some of my Italian cousins are also black. This is Eric (right) and Ryan (left) and JP (bike)

Here's JP for real. He's txting me about his Christmas present.

The youngest of the clan, Brandon. He likes Thomas the Tank Engine and Hello Kitty.

The kids pile into the coat room.

Someone dared get my Nonna a snuggie. But not even a snuggie. A cheap rip-off of a snuggie. And that is terrible.

I lost Go Fish to Brandon. I lost the easiest card game to a three-year-old.

Queer Ritual

Such a queer ritual they have, the

masses whose necks are bount tightly and capped heads and

hot coats

marching and parading in their snow-soaked denim

cold legs, cold feet, their faces shiny and noses running,

the air turned to ice in their lungs, they gasp

and sing songs of dead kings

(or undead)

and of the impending intrusion

by the stranger in

blood-red garb.