“the butterfly bitch” (series)

The Butterfly Bitch Part I

all of it

so for a minute
of unpardoned silence
i had to wait all day.

it wasn’t excruciating,
waiting for a phone to ring
-like wait;
instead dissolving from within,
lusting after certainty;
scared to look.

outside severe fences, homes,
grass is gravel to crunch
underfoot so i know instantly
when your feet pass over.
i can unlock the door; i’d leave it open,
but i know the sound of your feet
as easily as your scent,
i won’t open my mouth
for any other scentsound.

for a moment
of unpardoned silence
i waited all day long.
footfalls never arriving,
except in echoes of my barefoot
pacing polished wood floors.

after a long enough wait,
i’ll give up on your sightsound,
but it won’t be eloquent, or with grace.


The Butterfly Bitch Part II

running joke

by the time the door wasopen,
i’d turned you into Schrodinger’s cat;
took time for youtobecome you again.

our first push took less effort
than a well used & lubricated syringe, &
’bout as much love.
clothes tossed off, even my
windows were breathinghard
after an endless wait on ecstasy.

sweating in-natural heat,
staring at the ceiling tryin’ not to smile,
thinkin’ at you calling myname
right before falling down. a pair
aw ribcages
keeping usseparate while
fingers explore a slick roadway
tracing wet curves
across your spinal-roadmap.

mixed in with slicksweat & coolnight
& hotroom are
maybequestions still waiting on
the same succor i’ve been given;
for what it’s worth i have you now,
subject to change in-discretion.

wet roads & slickback exchanges,
curves & destruction of lineofsight;
yourprescience outshines mine aswe lick leftovers.


The Butterfly Bitch Part III

the bitch strikes back

i know i passed it over to you; i got
one hand holdin’ the phone
the other wrapped around a cigarette.

so before this phone starts ringing
& the new party gets busted up,
shove it to the floor & keep it going.
sheeeit, i’ve said “fuck it” before but
that doesn’t change how badly i

all through the lazy days in the land
of the busted hour and on and on;
feeling like this can’t be legal
(i assure you, it’s legal, for now,
until lawyers & politicians & bankers
fuck it up for the rest of us
once again.)
until then, shove it to the floor;
grind your heart right out.

smells like a museum in here.
i’m lookin’ up; not much
else to do. we long ago passed
any point of exclaiming
“this is the day we discovered
what ‘Industrial Revolution’ really means!”

now my phone is vibrating & this party ‘s dead;
before i can see a name i can hear a voice:
which one are you?


The Butterfly Bitch Part IV


we weren’t very good at pretending
to be serious; merely compliant. we could
avoid acknowledging anything anytime.

slipshod as things were, the setup
seemed simple; too obvious to see.
master of theory is only a pretend
challenger to the title; radio silence hit
ground without a word of
explanation. nobody to ask any better.

waking into the second act was
no different than any other trip;
i’ve got sunshine in my pocket,
while all morning winds try to blast
stitches from those protective pockets.
of course it failed; how could
it not? maybe this second act
could be another set of curtains
raised; a clean shot at something new.

radio silence is funny; as much
as any of those two-way chances
are taken as matter-of-course.
waking up with sunshine already
back pocketed, protected
by my vulgar smile & calm/kind eyes.

i wasn’t very good at pretending to be
serious; merely compliant. always easier to
avoid acknowledging anything anytime.


The Butterfly Bitch Part V

hysterical romance

“am i supposed to make a science
of knowing what you want?” is
retrogressive dominance still an option?

all the same, its got my blood up;
might say i knew it was coming (lie.)
do you know what bullet-proof means?
(it was roughly here that my plan
of attack fell apart. knew it was a piss-poor plan;
i was dependent upon my invincibility.)

her first fucking tear burnt instantly
through the floor, having made
a mistake by trying to catch it.
(instant decision): keep attacking or back off,
play horrified at that stranger
pulling on my damn vocal cords?
violently-dejected tones ensue. internal
scars be damned, right? at some
point, you gotta commit.

even today, i wouldn’t swear
that’s how it all started, or
ended, depending on your timescale.
it’s less tangible violence; can’t be
sure any one argument starts a war
or shatters a camels back.

with no memory to lean back
on, everything still to come
seems like hysterical romance.


The Butterfly Bitch Part VI

friday night & the butterfly in bed

me & the butterfly, a darkened tv;
mighta tasted dinner, moved quickly
for a lustful ‘good ‘ol days kinda fuck.

my butterfly is back, n’ everything’s
sort of nice, ‘cept not really. was her
left wing always torn like that? feels
strange, if so safely far from new;
my jewelery is still as cheap as any
of our promises to each other.

laying in bed together, naked. i’m
staring at my ceiling asking
her those same silent questions
again & again expecting no reply;
ms. butterfly sleeps & dreams,
sleep denied me amidst so many
unknowns; is this a kick-start towards
life with my beautiful butterfly or a
final hip-thrust turn of the screw?

by breakfast i’m no damn good
for conversation, yawning & tired.
not from lack of sleep; that’d
be too easy. i’ve exhausted
too much for a butterfly who
can only be halfheartedly held.

she leaves for coffee with a girlfriend,
& i don’t remember her telling me.
it’s ok; she promised to be back soon.


The Butterfly Bitch Part VII


we coulda kept fighting; guess
gettin’ far ’nuff apart makes
everythin’ distantly weightless.

miscarriage & rift & so much
learned still not understood; i
can’t get down the difference
between being saved & cursed.
both of us rebuilt an existence
assembled from leftover keepsakes.

i smiled when you married;
you were gonna be his problem,
forever & ever amen, until
everything turned around;
i got lost asking why butterflies
would flap wings if not to fly;
i’m scared Sun Pie was bein’ honest
when he told Dylan all the good
in the world had already been done.

doesn’t seem like a choice
to keep getting up early.
maybe i can get up early enough
& it’ll be yesterday;
everything will still make sense,
everything will still be to come.

better it can’t happen. impossible to
know why a butterfly
would flap its wings if not to fly.

10 Responses to ““the butterfly bitch” (series)”

  1. belladonna23 Says:

    All i can say is BREATHLESS. this truly amazed me. I found myself hating and loving you from line to line, even laughing at parts. and your use of grammatical and poetic elements was stunning.
    thank you. really, i’ll be coming back for more.

  2. Appreciate the compliments and the eyeballs. The Butterfly Bitch series (when finished, still 2 parts to go) reexamines my experiences in all of my non-working relationships (that would be all of them, a la “High Fidelity” style.) It is very very honest, and I WANT the reader to feel exactly as you explained. There are times I am the bad guy, and times I am not. I have no problem laying out how things honestly felt no matter whom was at fault. At any rate, thanks for the kind words and I hope you continue reading.


  3. Just marking for slower perusal

  4. Been reading some of your poetry, but I think I haven’t left any comments at all. I read through this series and man it was intense. You have very concentrated thoughts in each poem. I appreciate the rhythm, there was a beat to the poems that made reading this interesting. You paint the relationships in each poem, i believe, rightfully complex/knotted. You pack alot of emotion in each. I was hoping to give you a better comment,but I’m not delivering. Anyway, in general while reading through each poem, it was both engaging and overwhelming.

    • My friend, that is a great comment and I am as proud of that series as anything I have ever produced. I wanted to paint that complexity of interpersonal relationships exactly as I have experienced it. Everything is always moving, as hard as we try to do right we end up making horrendous mistakes and hurting some of those we love the most. This in turn radically affects the very course of our lives. I am not usually huge on “love poetry” as most of it is cliched and has been done to death, but I had not read anyone giving it a more balanced and personal recount of everything; the good, the bad, and the ugly. I only based it on my personal experiences because that is all I really have to go on (obviously.)

      At any rate, thanks for the compliments. I know we employ very different writing styles, but I have a deep appreciation for the written word and those able to manipulate emotions and thoughts always stand out to me. I think that is why I find your voice as a poet so interesting; it contains some of the gently nature I have always tried to find but cannot locate within myself. Being forever at war with my own existence is what makes the peaceful nature of your poetry so appealing. I deeply admire that. Thanks again for the time and eyeballs, they are always appreciated. Feel free to pull apart anything if you think I missed something or could say it in a better manner. I have very thick skin and a burning desire to become a poet.


      • I share your appreciation for the written word and understand that the difference in style does not make any poem less worth reading. I have to admit it is the first time i heard anyone call my poems gentle, but giving your comments more thought i see where this is coming from. I think you coming by my poems and honestly expressing your opinion of it has been one of the most unexpected surprises in my blogging life. Thank you. And yes, like you I do hope you also feel free to point out areas of improvement in my writing. I’m don’t take offense easily either, so long as it is within context.

        Will definitely read more of your work in the near future.


  5. Scent of my heart Says:

    Each time I read something from you, most of the time I sit silently wondering about things, leaving my brain on the hands of struggling effort to compress the extremely vivid emotions I get to feel! I read lot of stuff every day and not many of it make me “feel” …. Another perfection, another speechless moment of not finding good enough words to describe!

    • Thanks kindly. That is, at the end of the day, the only reason to write poetry. It is not easy to communicate ‘feeling’ but I am proud of the way this series came out. It allowed me to move on from something that had bothered me for a long time. Thanks again for the compliment, much appreciated!


      • Scent of my heart Says:

        “moving on from something that had bothered me for a long time” it’s something I can very much understand and be happy for anyone who managed to achieve it, because I so painfully know how difficult that can be … as for the compliment you don’t need to thank me … I haven’t had something to make my brain alive in a while 🙂 your writing does the job just fine, keep writing!

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