All the content of this website is © Copyright erbacce © Copyright on individual poems

remains with the authors; nothing may be reproduced without express permission.

If you download a copy of erbacce all copyright rules still apply.

13. Featuring: Misti Rainwater-Lites

+ Joanna M. Weston + Jenny Adamthwaite +  Linda L. Bielowski

+ Clarinda Harriss + Daniel Wilcox + Karl Koweski + Kate Noakes

+ Alessio Zanelli



dripped on like rain


this is what i do i come to you without

rhyme a writer without the crutch of pen

and paper where are my words they won’t

come they don’t do verbal tricks you’re the

master of bullshit all things senseless and

trivial lukewarm and shallow ha ha i laugh

you paragraph paragon paradox meat box lovin’

fool so cruel you throw things i told you over

the phone in my face what’s that knife you

wield so well you psychopathic playboy oh a

toy used in rituals for sacrifice not the

devirginizer i jokingly said it was to throw

you like you threw me use it on me cut me to

shreds i want to bleed at your feet be the death

you always escape with a grin freedom ends here in

your arms open sesame i have no magic words to

offer up no wiles no nothing just my brave face and

my breasts the cherry pie you don’t really crave

I’m not your girl I’m not your girl no i don’t

look good enough talk coy enough feel good enough to

undulate beneath your solid sweaty masculine flesh god

you are real that is what you are to me the beauty of

earth the sacred healing properties of mud i would immerse

myself in your semen if i could and die if that was the

plan you man you boy you demi-god human who will someday

rot in a cheap grave covered with roses i saw through the

blooming stages and dripped on like rain.

I Knew I Was Alone When


daddy spanked me for walking in on

him crawling toward mommy in his underwear

and mommy could not soothe away

my choking sobs


I crossed the highway after school

and let myself into an empty apartment

with insipid television programs

for company

and nothing

to snack on


the girls gossiped and giggled about cotillion

in the bathroom

and I was in the stall

farthest from the door

too shy

to flush


my peers mocked my lack of improvisation skills

as I stood onstage pale and shaking

with a bright red exclamation mark mouth

I was too young

to wear


he had turned off his phone

leaving me with the silence

of an empty bottle of jack daniels

and dirty panties wilted like

the flowers he never sent

a sad trail from the futon

to the toilet



somehow we sparkled that December

melting into January

like the snow I took pictures of

with my new camera phone

that New Year’s Eve

I kept walking the few steps

to the convenience store next door

buying bottles of cheap champagne

there was candy in the bowl

and a fake Wal-Mart tree

with your toy train making circles

around it

no family

no friends

no place to park

no way of knowing

we would go on shining

our resolute incandescence

goofier than British claymation

and more reliable

than Hallmark birthday cards


Empathy My Ass

spread that cream cheese fakery somewheres else

‘cause i know deep inside my gut

that there is no way in hell

you could understand or appreciate

my shopping mall freak outs

my ego mania’s flip side (constant second guessing)

my falling in love addiction

my needing and hating the familiar

my waif with nose pressed to candy shop window despair

my tornado nightmares

the ground always tilting

the sky always falling

my ass splat humiliation

it’s eternally lunchtime in the junior high cafeteria

and there is no place

for me to sit

you’re on the student council

you will never get it

you’re on the yearbook staff

and have no use

for pictures of me hiding on the potty

during pep rallies

once an alien

always an alien

spare me your tabloid hungry stare

Black Ink Stains on my Left Thigh


went to bed with the muse again

grappled & bit

indulged in bridge burning

headboard banging

guitar screeching sex

there is no glow after

no epiphany dawning

sun spilling butter

on pancake flesh

it’s always cigarette hacking

instant coffee swilling

peppermint gum spitting

‘cause, yeah

it loses its flavor

on the bedpost overnight

Hologram Hell


here i am again stuck in hologram hell


pretty! pretty!

goddess of muchness

munching on lucky clover

my mirror is hissing lies

the sibilance soothes me into

dreams where love is a contagion

and beautiful carnivorous men

eat fever from my hands

and drown without complaint

inside my rheumy eyes


all the pleading sappy songs are about me

here i am deluded

thinking myself a muse

it is always spring here

in la la land



waters gurgling like newborn babies

clouds plump and pink like cherubim

everything blossoms

all of eden reflected

across my face


i am venus sick

stuck on penis

eros afflicted

convicted of crimes

without appeal

everything squeals inside me

giddy gaudy godless

shamelessly self-absorbed.

eternally sixteen.

freshly bleeding.

biological cuckoo clock

chirping letters to santa


i think the shadows are celebrating my bravery

i think the balloons have my name on them

i think the world is gobbling popcorn

fixated on my screen

my technicolor screaming.

my stream of consciousness orgasm.

my eyeliner smeared dissolve.


i got my wings.


Satan in the Kitchen


satan sits at the kitchen table while the wife and kids sleep

smoking his winstons casting his hunched oilfield worker

shadow on the wall the clock ticking the train roaring

down the line outside the trailer house windows

he’s thinking about the knife fight he survived in ‘59

the girl with ruby neon lips and plump thighs

he fucked in ’63 the whiskey he can still taste

even though it’s been ten years finding his mother

and her lover bleeding to death naked on pale blue sheets

visiting his father in prison drinking coca-cola from glass bottles

staring at white walls all silence except for hacking coughs

and deep deep sighs

More Guilt Like a Quilt



memory heavy


why not just throw it

off the bed

because I am naked


I would shiver without it

I would look in the mirror

and see sociopath in my irises

brutality in my nipples

killer cunt in my smirk

evil in my pubes


so I snuggle miserable

telling myself

this is what I have to keep me cozy

and this is what I deserve

the faded patchwork mocking

my martyr’s choice

the loose threads tickling

the tears

from my eyes