Summer Storm
The Gods are throwing bowling balls, cracking fissures in the sky. Continue reading Summer Storm
Category: My Poetry
Power
And their voices rose pushing foggy ignorance into the atmosphere toward the stratosphere away past the stars the planets around white dwarfs through galaxies into the biggest blackest hole in the memory of everything that ever was or will be. That is the power of community. *** Written from the dVerse prompt “signs”. Continue reading Power
A Plastic Bag
A plastic bag in the wind is trash to some, beauty to others. Who’s to say what’s right or wrong? Desperate eyes see freedom in lift and airiness, a thing not of nature riding on nature’s wings, accepted without question, unencumbered by expectations, allowed to be its most spontaneous, creative self. A vessel to hold other things, it’s true, but filled with possibilities of what those things might be. *** Poem inspired by the plastic bag scene in the film American Beauty which I find achingly sad yet hopeful. Continue reading A Plastic Bag
Mistaken
The window unit hums. I lie on the bed, the coarse cotton spread chafing my bare legs. Unspoken words churn overhead, fueled by their own fury, but the air in my lungs is so still it’s nearly solid. Only the billowing curtain above the a/c shows signs of life. — Photo by me. Detail of home in the Lower Garden District of New Orleans. Continue reading Mistaken
My Poem on Postcards: Support Small Presses!
Atomic Theory Micropress has printed up my poem “Bravado” on postcards, with art by Jon Butterworth, for purchase on their website. I am thrilled! It never occurred to me that it might be possible for my words to fly around the country (world?!) in this way. Proceeds from the postcards will help Atomic Theory finance the publication of their limited edition handsewn chapbooks. If you love poetry, small press, and/or the art of bookmaking, please consider purchasing a postcard or two. Support poets, support art, support small presses! Continue reading My Poem on Postcards: Support Small Presses!
Dazzled
Found poem source: Gilbert, Elizabeth, Big Magic , Page 76 Continue reading Dazzled
9 Years 8 Months
You sat at the back of the room like a glacier, non-moving, non-blinking, arms crossed over your chest. I chattered on, ignoring you but sneaking a side-eye now and then. Thousands of days have passed, this thing moved way past estrangement into forever-gone land long ago. But you reappeared, hovering like fog over shifting ground until you finally walked over, handed me a letter,disappeared again. Fog. The first sentence read, I was sober for 9 years, 8 months. Now I’m not. I don’t know what to do with this, this unsettling psychic information. That’s the thing about dreams, where does … Continue reading 9 Years 8 Months
Your Slate is not Clean
and it never will be. That’s something people tell themselves to feel better about the crappy things they’ve done in life. The repeated mistakes, the thoughtless remarks, the pillage wreaked in another persons life. We say, “that’s in the past, I’ve changed”. But here’s the thing. The slate should never be cleaned because we need to own our mistakes. They’re what makes us human, what makes us grow. Our chalked-marked slates are part of us, our past make us who we are today. So throw away that eraser. Continue reading Your Slate is not Clean
Four Poems in Atomic Theory
I currently have four poems up at Atomic Theory Micro Press. Atomic Theory is the brainchild of Loren Moreno andd Nicole Cuffy who want to create a venue for emerging or unpublished writers, specializing in hand-crafted chapbooks. In addition to publishing chapbooks they will also publish poems and short prose on the site. Loren and Nicole have some serious writing cred and I’m confident this new venture will be a success. Big thanks to them both for choosing my work to be a part of their inaugural issue. Go read now! 😄 Continue reading Four Poems in Atomic Theory
Mother’s Day Coming. Again.
My emotions are mixed about Mother’s Day, not being a mother myself doesn’t bother me. I’m used to the automatic happy greeting from store clerks and strangers, I just smile and say thank you. (After all, I am mamma to my pets.) But there are plenty of childless women who feel a knife twist in their wombs when they hear that automatic greeting. Other women bristle at the thought that a mere pet makes one a mamma. On one hand, I think some people take the greeting too seriously but, on the other, I think these women have a right … Continue reading Mother’s Day Coming. Again.
