Early Life

Early LifeThe small kitchen porchThe morning glory vine that twirled up the porchThe grassy hillThe groundhog that lived on the hill The creek across the road The creek so clear, running with minnows The stone Spring House The jars of canned goods, cool in the Spring House The flower-studded front lawn The rabbits that played on the front lawn at twilight The big country silence The whip-poor-wills that sang out in the silence The bed at the top of the stairs The bed that hugged after a long day of play NaPoWriMo day 15 prompt: Today, we’d like you to … Continue reading Early Life

Saturdays on Soul Train

Saturdays on Soul TrainPlatforms, bell bottoms & paisley printsFunky Chickened & Bumped the Soul Train line,one hour once a week cool moves & us glued to a rock & rolling tv & music in mono but all so special in its scarcity.Now then every granny, toddler, & all in between TikTok, Facebook, Instagram their moveson phones, tablets, laptops, streaming & streaming& streaming into infinity,on tv every consumer-driven product sells itself dancing,none of it special, it all blurs into flailing arms & legs,white noise & puppet images —Click Na/GloPoWriMo day 14 prompt: Today, we challenge you to write a poem that … Continue reading Saturdays on Soul Train

Springtime Freshness in Every Puff

Springtime Freshness in Every PuffHalf-used, a green and white crinklypackage hides amid a twilight of dust bunnies.A set of five small fingers grabs it out into light & air, an alien environment.I am confronted.O little sister. I see the beginningof your life in this moment.Whether by instinct or observation,you knew and you cared. You weresmarter at 6 than I was at 16. Na/GloPoWriMo day 12 prompt: Today, we’d like to challenge you to write your own poem that recounts a memory of a beloved relative, and something they did that echoes through your thoughts today. Continue reading Springtime Freshness in Every Puff

A Tropical Fever

A Tropical FeverOn the island nightwas a wall of flameascended, receded, opened,disappeared again.He was feverish,vague, unsettled —preparation was almostexecution.Pleasure bound, all was ready,minutes doubled into desiremore poetical in the obscurityof the night.Thoughts, illusions, anticipation,the island loomed large.He could not close his eyesfor a moment. Na/GloPoWriMo day 5. This is an erasure created from The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas via Project Gutenberg. See screenshot below of the selected page. I’ve been watching th PBS production so it seemed a good idea to use a page from the text. Happy Easter! Happy Passover! Continue reading A Tropical Fever

Air So Still

Air So StillOctober 2005Parched ground, wind-burned foliage,you’d think there was a droughtinstead of a storm of rain falling like sheetsblown sideways on a clothesline.Hurricane’s winds blew everything away.Plant, bird, animal, human.But flies soon returned – coffin flies,they were called – everywhere,everywhere, crawling on everything.Everything being the debris of livesscattered everywhere.Then, dragonflies by the hundredsreturned. It was so odd when the groundwas so dry, the air so still, a dearthof activity by animal and human and yetthe beating of wings by my ear.* I went off prompt for day 4 of Na/GloPoWriMo because I was inspired by my friend Matt Dennisons … Continue reading Air So Still

Hollywood

HollywoodAfter shedding the skin of another the wine bottle winks from the fridge, garnet liquid slides down a throat where words written by others clog their own.Adulation and awards are determined by cliques and closed parameters, deviation from a set ideologyis cancellable.Pretty faces bow, keep their opinions in line with the establishment.Go home and drink it all away. Napowrimo.org prompt for today: Today, we challenge you to write a poem in which a profession or vocation is described differently than it typically is considered to be.  My poem is on the cynical side today but I call it as I … Continue reading Hollywood

Edinburg on the Pearl

On a long, sleepy Sunday afternoonI succumb to my heavy eyelids,leave the adults chatting and reminiscing on the porch as I make my wayinto MaMaw’s bedroom. Her featheredmattress covered in white chenille enclosesme like angel wings and clouds, soft laughter and chatter from outside, soothing soundsinviting me to sleep. But instead, sleep hovers over my mind, joining low murmured names drifting in the window -Ruby, Lessie, Aline, Shelby, Hattie -sharing their growing up memories, together stillon this sultry Southern day. And I, lying there,still growing up without a thought for time,how fast it flees, how much it changes us, believing … Continue reading Edinburg on the Pearl