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.
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)
Borne from “death”.
Born from the experience of adolescence.
For Christine P.
My late husband took this photograph in Oaxaca in 2006. I marked it up.
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.
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.
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. […]
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. […]