Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Still Here

I made deals with the devil
and peace with God -
flattery and fear.
Mama's still here.
Mama's still here.

Then I settled for each second
as it came along
and held each one dear.
Mama's still here.
Mama's still here.

There were riots in the streets
here in America
where it matters.
Some terrible disease
came to America
where it matters.
But my world
was a small world -
just a mother
and a daughter
this year.

And Mama's still here.

A couple of weeks ago, I was reflecting on the past year and I wrote this draft.  I was thinking about how the world was falling apart right outside my door, but it didn't matter and I didn't care.  My world was the whoosh of an oxygen machine.  Mama was still here.

After a long illness, my mother passed away yesterday morning.  Some of you know me quite well; I thought that you'd want to know.

Monday, December 15, 2014

Red Wheelbarrow 2014

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William Carlos Williams in binary code for Open Link Monday at Real Toads

Saturday, December 13, 2014

The Waning

There they are, the moon's young, trying
Their wings
--- Beginnings, James Wright

The moon
wanes weak
in heaven's wet, hollow eye.
Black iris night
steals stars
from her beside.
being orphaned
by a swallowing sky.
Who will I
in the morning?

For Grace's prompt at Real Toads

Friday, December 12, 2014


It's been a week since my last poem.
I have a picture of a pretty pink lake.
I'm thinking of cheerleaders
and full immersion baptism.
Cotton candy choirs and bubble
breasts breaking the surface
like Cold War submarines . . .
. . . giant stomach shaped holes
full of Pepto Bismol.
Meccas for the mildly
nauseated . . . puddles
of prehistoric piss
left by the last
pink elephant . . . a bulimic
Disney princess riding a unicorn
in a blender . . .
It's been a week
since my last poem.
I have a picture of a pretty pink lake.
I'm thinking.
For Hannah's prompt at Real Toads

Wednesday, December 10, 2014


I don't deadhead anymore.
I leave leavings for the birds.
There's beauty in decay
if you look at it that way.

I don't deathbed anymore.
I crawl up right beside you.
There's beauty in the way
we still fit together.

No, I don't deadhead anymore.
Dust gathers on the vinyl.
There's beauty in what stays
and what lets you go.

For Words Count at Real Toads

Godspeed, G-Man.

Monday, December 8, 2014


Miranda on the radio.
Glass of sweet ice tea.
Bird dog at my feet.
Open windows.

Red dirt in the sunset.
Smallmouth on the line.
Green tomatoes fresh to fry.
Kids catching minnows

to let go.

Cucumbers in vinegar.
Ham hock in the beans.
Knees ripped out my jeans.
Cherokee eyes.

A truck that's almost paid for.
Most everything I need.
God for in between.
Kids catching fireflies

to let go.

For Open Link Monday at Real Toads

Saturday, December 6, 2014

See Mom Run

Run your hose.
Run to the bank.
Runny nosed kid.
Run over the sink.
Run out of coffee.
Run out of gas.
Run, Mama, run!
Fast!  Fast!

Run yourself ragged.
Run yourself raw.
Run one to school.
Run one to the mall.
Run yourself down.
Run yourself dry.
Wave to yourself
as you run by.

For Flash Fiction 55 at Real Toads