Plan your dreams in advance.
A mash up of the NYC quarantine + the series finale of Homeland.
A dark meditation in a safe place.
This one was borne out of Peaky Blinders and the amazing time in history when horses outnumbered cars in cities and towns.
For my mother and brother.
After seeing old friends.
I’ve been hanging onto this wily one for months.
Started with “sparkle”.
An abecedarian sequence is, ideally, a 26-word poem, each word in alphabetical order. This one born out of “a burnt corpse” (A-B-C)
Born out of “anything boiling”
This one borne out of a fear of death.
Born around the words “a bully crowd” and Hillbilly Elegy.
This one is about a boy.
Born from the word “burden.”
Borne from “death”.
Born from the experience of adolescence.
For my son.
My late husband took this photograph in Oaxaca in 2006. I marked it up.
My favorite topic.
Washington, D.C. in 2017.
The seam between life and death is peculiar. I’m transfixed by it lately.
My favorite abecedarian. It has lots of cheats.
Life doesn’t break, it bends.
The edge of a hole is a dreadful angle.
Route 50 after Bud died.
A night out with old friends.
Life is messy but still worth it.
This church door in Georgetown.
I get motion sickness.
I think you’ll get it.
Vitality not happiness is the opposite of depression.
An abecedarian centered around “cull.”
Sometimes I see colors.
Limbs strewn like branches from a tree after a storm.
A fresh death.
One of my favorites.
Inspired by AB.
To my son.
If we only meet On the other side If our link’s forged Strong Here Then, I shall do that careful work. (Because forever is something else.)
An Abecedarian sequence (mostly) inspired by Emmet Fox and the prologue in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliette.
An Abecedarian Sequence (mostly).
(An abecedarian sequence mostly).
I open slowly and shut fast. I shut like I drop my clothes on the floor after struggling out of them. Shutting makes me small, makes me see small, makes me feel small, makes you feel small. It is a black edge dripping with the stench of dread. Unfolding hurts. I cranked open that opening […]
The featured image is “The premature burial” by Antoine Wiertz (1806-1865) painted in 1854. This poem, written approximately in elegiac couplet, was inspired by a memory inspired by the first stanza of lyrics in Hozier’s “Take Me To Church.”
The Subject Rainbows galore. They infiltrated my neural network this week. The Method It’s not an abecedarian sequence but like it. Treating the rainbow like a mosaic or visual found poetry, I found instances of each color in photographs I already had. There are different textures (you can see) and magnifications (not as clear to […]
The young scrambled, refusing to leave until the System shut down. Five, four, three, two . . . Even Then some refused exit (not on principle but Bewilderment), shutting themselves in, Typing one last thing. Others wandered, imminent, Displaced, seeking water, hot or cold, all Gone, seeking basics, disconnected, carted, done. Trying to pull back […]
In your food there is a heavy draught drugging horse. The others chitter chatter spoon it up. Danger in eggs and potatoes in broth. Circle The bowl looking for flesh. Wary. I watch. Do they eat with impunity? The gut recoils. Only dry pasta for me. No room to Hide in subsistence living. Water please, […]
The me clothed in cheap rat cotton (to breathe the skin) Walks stiff inside voluminously talking. Squinting, straining, blinking. “Sit yourself down, girl, please,” She’d say. “Knock me down,” I’d plead inside. Give Me a heavy draught so I’ll be like swimming in An ocean instead of splashing in a Bathtub.
Alaska’s blinding cold devolves evenly forging golden hues, insolence. January knows long might, night’s occupancy, pulse’s questions. Rest, solitude. Quiet rivers steal torrents. Unearthed valiance wields (e)xoneration, yellow zinnias. This is an Abecedarian sequence built around the word Alaska. The featured image is a photograph of a flower (not a zinnia) taken by me and […]
Where ability does not meet art drowns Something . Lungs burst to live on land, to have Grown something good, a hard green grassy ground to Roll around in. For her to uninhabit Me, is all I ask. As well as why she’s Moved back in. She takes the water and the Food and sleep and […]
I am not a poet, but I was convinced last year that writing poetry was good writerly exercise. Cross-training, if you will. Writing poetry in prescribed verse can range from an exciting adventure in wordsmithing to a creative puzzle relaxing your mind before you float off to sleep at night. Words have meaning. Words have sounds. […]
Future is time’s third act, time still to come. Only since time is of indefinite Duration, we gape ahead, holds hands to Eyes, to magnify or blind. This future Can never know me. We’ll never meet. We Never will, for when we do slithering Time has become present, which is so now, As to be […]
In search of found poetry, I took a cue from Cheri Lucas Rowlands’ Fragments on Time: Found Poetry in My Dashboard and picked five lines from five different drafts of my own detritus. The featured image is my found poem. Even a small child can recount to you the various happenings – the assassination of […]
Index cards Large or small White or bright The thicker ones are better. I pull one out of its plastic sheath. The things that could happen Big things mountains of words Organized into thoughts could happen. I write one idea per card and then shuffle, Look at them in different orders. If I can just […]
Limbs are limbs, We think. But, I Don’t. When a Phantom Can hurt, A foreigner demand removal, How? The common element is paralysis not motion. Oppressed By arms and legs: “They don’t belong To me but keep Clinging to My Torso.” Tracking The first 21 Days Of life, vindicates The immediacy and The primacy of […]
In her mother’s womb she wrestled. Her bag of waters made Of hearty fibers, almost In a mermaid’s purse, she’s born. Black hair is spiked, blue eyes are wide, Mama could barely hold In her delight at this new child, Not fraught with any frailty. With powers so full since that first day, A little […]
Will I come to your side when you are no longer in my arms needing? I try though it feels stilted like cotton is in your ears. Sweet small boy that you were, molded to me like a sloth on a tree, Now you are tall and knobby like a young sapling: proud, no bend. […]
My first Abecedarian sequence I saw visually wrapped around on itself like in the featured image: A bronze cauldron does erupt forming a golden hole. (Inner juxtaposition) knowing, lamenting, mastering nothing. Praying, querying saves then underlies vastness. (Wanting) xenophobia yearns zoning. Here is an attempt at concrete poetry for the Writing 201 concrete poetry assignment. […]
Our plain face betrays the mitochondrial Eve in us. Father is an old word but mother precedes it. Who knows our longing when we first create fathers who eat us? Art answers: where might our conscious brains with lonely hearts fit? In separateness we hold together, like piano keys ‘ melody. Heaven(s) don’t mock us, […]
At the whim of my elders I dangled on the travel. To the ends of the earth I was tasked, though I knew I’d unravel. They packed me on a plane. Jet lag left me insane. I drank wine every night and caroused and was graveled. Here is a limerick for the Writing 201 journey/limerick/alliteration […]
A brown coat hangs in A dark closet absorbing Dust. Will water help Or steam or fire? He Looks at her with all the words In his eyes. She hears And cries into the Soil. She thinks it will cleanse it Somehow some way. When? I will have to back into the brevity of a […]
The Blacklight Candelabra challenges us to re-imagine a box of chocolates in writing form. A collection of unique and separate [writing] forms a greater whole. One rarely finds a single small piece of [writing] that ascends to the heights that the variety provides. I had been thinking for some time of putting the Abecedarian Sequences into a visual art form. […]
Sayings, singing songs like threaded words on Strings of twine around your neck. Not plastic Like the bright cheap colors in the super Market. On a farm of green and hay and Red barn doors, a child sits high above the Tilting windmills stringing gems, whistling joy. Perchance, the world looks bleak; perchance it is. […]
A brave calm darkens even fear. God harvests ideas, judgments, keys. Living miracles need only prayer, quandaries. Relaxing saves trembling, unarmed. Votive worlds (e)xonerate yesterday’s zealotry. This is an Abecedarian sequence. The featured image is “Study of Hands” by Leonardo Da Vinci sketched in 1474. The original work can be found in the Royal Collection, […]
A ballad courses, devotes evergreen favors, garners hearts. Inside joy (knells / laughs) mirrors noisy oils. Perhaps questions remain. Silence takes us valiantly wayward, (e)xhibiting zeal. This is an Abecedarian sequence. The featured image is “Fallen Jockey” by Edgar Degas painted 1896-1898. The original work can be found in Kuntsmuseum Basel in Basel, Switzerland. All […]
To wake hellbent, the maelstrom funneled head: Inside “(no)” a curtain drops. But I say, “I’m okay now.” (The small deceits.) Instead Of, “See, the grey sky’s fraught? Rain’s on its way?” Ignored I am by me against my will. Self prison grows up hate to wind up thought. “Sleep snug smug shits” and sundry […]