Every foe gone
Flat happy hills
Kansas forces gather
Plan your dreams in advance.
A mash up of the NYC quarantine + the series finale of Homeland.
A dark meditation in a safe place.
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.
A blue coated dove, a quaint robin
For my mother and brother.
Thousands of days
After seeing old friends.
(the judge hurts)
I’ve been hanging onto this wily one for months.
abecedarian no. 31
Started with “sparkle”.
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)
Born out of “anything boiling”
This one borne out of a fear of death.
Born around the words “a bully crowd” and Hillbilly Elegy.
(abecedarian no. 26)
This one is about a boy.
(abecedarian no. 25)
Born from the word “burden.”
(abecedarian no. 24)
Borne from “death”.
(abecedarian no. 23)
Born from the experience of adolescence.
For my son.
For Christine P.
My late husband took this photograph in Oaxaca in 2006. I marked it up.
The uncaused cause
My favorite topic.
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.
A new springtime
An abecedarian centered around “cull.”
Sometimes I see colors.
Limbs strewn like branches from a tree after a storm.
You ( )
A fresh death.
One of my favorites.
Inspired by AB.
The Prayer of an Artist
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.
“Hunger is Hunger”
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 […]
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 […]
Shadow Series No. 2
The first in the series gives some background on what I’m trying to do. When I run, the three parts of me interact very loudly. These are photographs taken by me and edited with Enlight and WordSwag. They are a two dimensional way to capture one second of my three parts loudly interacting.
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, […]
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.
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 […]
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 […]
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. […]
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 […]