by any other name II

recently I found out
your middle name, and
caught a glimpse
of the alternate universe
in which you are a Dave.

weird, isn’t it? is that guy
drawing comics
about being a superhero
whose power is going
mostly underappreciated?
is he taking the subway
every day to his white collar job
wishing he were freewheeling, wheeled and (barely) heeled, but able
to pursue his art? or does he
work in a library and have
endless borrowing privileges?

does that guy have friends
who make fun of him
but only because
they love him? or does he
have a wife and kids, a
suburban walking-dream life
and no discernable inner narrative
worth speaking of?

we’ll never know. unless
a movie adaptation of the
– totally true story, mostly
autobiographical –
best-selling comic written
by Dave becomes so huge
that it spills over into
our universe, and even then
I’ll probably wait for it to come out
on Netflix.


I am a girl
of sand and fire.
I am a voodoo doll
held together by my
pins. I am a sentient collection
of ants. I am a girl-shaped
form made out of ashes;
pour me through
a sieve and watch me
disappear. I am a gingerbread
woman; bite my head off
to put me out of my misery. I am
the Wicked Witch
of the West, melting in the rain.

I am a ghost, a breath
of hot air from your mouth;
I am steam, condensing into
being and then dispersing
as fast as I appeared.
I’m the last dying ember
of a dead star. I’m a whirlwind
of sand inside a sirocco.

I’m only real
as long as your eyes
can see me.

star of the sea

the water is blood-warm.
like a perfect bath,
like a sensory deprivation
tank. I can’t tell
where it leaves off
and I begin. I watch
the lights change color
and through the pink mesh
of the pool float, seem
to be blasting off
into outer space
on my ship
sailing across
the ocean of stars.

I float aimlessly,
perfectly content,
and my thoughts drift
as easily as
my body moves
with the currents.

I turn over, lay
on my back, and
watch the moon
like Hathor the horned,
the cow-eyed
goddess, sculling her
silver craft across
the sea of night.
Nut the night
goddess holds up
the sky for her.

I think of the
church nearby,
called the Basilica of St. Mary,
Star of the Sea.
I pretend I am
the star, and the sea,
and mingle my starstuff
in the waters
of birth. time
ceases to exist.

I’m leaving
tomorrow. just when
I finally learned
how to relax,
it’s over.