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Quivers rain

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Every foe gone

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Belong(s)

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Sandman

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Yield

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My highness

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(No) lamentations

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Time-space

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Having/Halving

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Blue Country

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Glitter bonnets

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All bounty

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Flat happy hills

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Kansas forces gather

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Knowing (you)

Ambivalence

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(Keep stacking)

Plan your dreams in advance.

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Zoonosis (2.0)

A mash up of the NYC quarantine + the series finale of Homeland.

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Romanticism

A dark meditation in a safe place.

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Horses and Cars

This one was borne out of Peaky Blinders and the amazing time in history when horses outnumbered cars in cities and towns.

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A blue coated dove, a quaint robin

For my mother and brother.

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Thousands of days

After seeing old friends.

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(the judge hurts)

I’ve been hanging onto this wily one for months.

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abecedarian no. 31

Started with “sparkle”.

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abecedarian no. 30

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)

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(abecedarian no.29)

Born out of “anything boiling”

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an incantation

This one borne out of a fear of death.

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response

Born around the words “a bully crowd” and Hillbilly Elegy.

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(abecedarian no. 26)

This one is about a boy.

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(abecedarian no. 25)

Born from the word “burden.”

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(abecedarian no. 24)

Borne from “death”.

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(abecedarian no. 23)

Born from the experience of adolescence.

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A boy

For my son.

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Uncategorized

Christine P.

For Christine P.

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Art Photography Poetry like

Small

My late husband took this photograph in Oaxaca in 2006. I marked it up.

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Art Best of 1874 Poetry like

The uncaused cause

My favorite topic.

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Photography Poetry like

The seam

The seam between life and death is peculiar. I’m transfixed by it lately.

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Art Best of 1874 Poetry like

The Abecedarian of Abecedarians

My favorite abecedarian. It has lots of cheats.

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Elasticity 

Life doesn’t break, it bends.

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A box 

For Karl.

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Poetry like Prose

Trytopophobia

The edge of a hole is a dreadful angle.

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The watchers 

Route 50 after Bud died.

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Sadism

Blue truck

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Maquina lights 

A night out with old friends.

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Supplications

Life is messy but still worth it.

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Medieval

This church door in Georgetown.

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Turbulence

I get motion sickness.

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The clink 

Currency.

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Hungry

I think you’ll get it.

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Abracadabra

Vitality not happiness is the opposite of depression.

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A new springtime 

An abecedarian centered around “cull.”

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To laugh

Sometimes I see colors.

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Deep blue 

A death.

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I can 

Limbs strewn like branches from a tree after a storm.

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You ( )

A fresh death.

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Vessels 

Before.

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Walking

One of my favorites.

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Ascent 

For AD.

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Frame Jumper

Inspired by AB.

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The Prayer of an Artist

  

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To my son.

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Love 

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.)

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Poetry like Prose

A Sermon 

  An Abecedarian sequence (mostly) inspired by Emmet Fox and the prologue in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliette.    

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“Hunger is Hunger”

An Abecedarian Sequence (mostly).

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Patient Zero

   (An abecedarian sequence mostly). 

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unfolding 

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 […]

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a funeral

  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.”

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naturally occurring phenomenon

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 […]

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A corporate exodus 

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 […]

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Awakenings (or food problems)

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, […]

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elegy no. 2

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.

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Art Best of 1874 Poetry like

The insolence of Spring 

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 […]

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Unfinished 

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 […]

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Poetry Cheat Sheet

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. […]

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Art

Pastel of a Sunrise in Bangalore 

One of my favorite bloggers, Stock Research 52, posted another inspiring photograph of a sunrise in his home of Bangalore, India earlier in March. I tried to paint it in pastels last week. 

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Time’s 3rd Act

  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 […]