The Thornbird

The Thornbird

Like the thornbird
throwing itself on love
impaling its own heart
in death’s moment
of a passion that floats away
with it’s blood

I am

forever falling
for the one on the other side
of the thorn

January 30, 1993
Tressa Lee Breen

J One

J One

To gain the friend
I must loose the lover I never had

Is it better
to be conversed
or kissed

Can platonic passions rage
where something different smolders

Have I found
a future friend
or a soon to be
past regret

And if we were to love
would he
in my bed
mean him
out of my life

How are we to be any good for one another
if we are neither truly friends nor lovers

Are stolen conversations all that we may share

and where
do I draw the lines of conduct and contact
when what I want
is to cut through the air between our lips

Everything crashes into me
those California waves
those do’s and don’ts

Can I even be his friend
or am I becoming an emotional
if sexless

And then there’s the truly evil pebble of doubt
Is this the life I’m living
or the game he’s playing 
To gain the truth
I must take the chance       

January 16, 1993
Tressa Lee Breen



Melted milk and honey
drops from your mouth
saccharine sweet
I gag on your words
You give me nothing but sugar
yet my life with you is bitter
a rotten after taste hangs in my mouth
and your kisses are as over ripe fruit

Why stay
why bother
my growth is stunted with you
and my person shrivels in your company

We stay in your bed
no longer in the sun
and not even what comes from there
inspires me to trust you

So I lean to the light and grow away from you
my personhood blooming
and the scent of a woman
wafts once more where I live

January 3, 1993
Tressa Lee Breen

Crystal California

Crystal California

I’m falling
curiouser and curiouser
with no guiding white rabbit

My wonderland is plastic
it is a look
a fad
an attitude

People drowning
and believing the doctrine that asphyxiates them
is holy water

How to survive and see
amidst the blinding tie dye
How to look people in the eye
when their hair covers their souls

Is it Mother Earth
or is it just a mother
that moves spirits here

Can a crystal be a channel to spirituality
a piece of medicinal mineral
with untapped power to change the world to good

or isn’t it just a fucking rock

January 2, 1993
Tressa Lee Breen

Cafe Pergolesi

Café Pergolesi

My little corner
engulfed in white walls
hovered over by a white ceiling
is where I find my creativity

A spot only for me
apart but still a part
I can find freedom in my pen
and expression on my paper

A TARDIS in my view
reminds me of every where and every time
I can go
without leaving the protection of my cubby hole

Sounds both known and unknown float by
enhancing without disturbing my brain
and I can float on that melody
till I find that missing word

Yes my little bit of Santa Cruz
that actually works for me
In a crowded tea house
I found my fortress of solitude

January 2, 1993
Tressa Lee Breen