Monday, September 1, 2014

And Wait

My metal turtle has tinted skin.
I can see out,
but you can't see in.
I guide from the belly
and inch chase a place in the shade.

And wait.

The school pick-up line
is society small.
Should I act civilized
or middle finger it all?
Be a beast in a tank
or the lady my mama raised

and wait, and wait, and wait?

For Open Link Monday at Real Toads

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Mother River

We found her blue-faced as a pict.
I became "Gall," my sister, "Bile,"
linguistics, the lace of our fingers.

is the mother river,
bone banked and senseless.
Pulse is census and legends of Lazarus
recited as I wade in

hoping to be counted.
Hoping to swim.

A rough bit of something for mood wings

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Hiway 9

The Road to Somewhere

When you're young, the road is wide.
Wide enough you walk side by side.
When you're old,
it gets narrow as your veins.
On your way to the drooling chair.
White coat Jesus gonna meet you there.
Just follow the steeple sign
to Hiway 9.

Let our friendly, helpful staff
drip the morphine in your mask.
Rest your cyanotic skin.
Wet your lips with Ativan.
Inner peace is PRN.
Ring the bell, I'll be right in.
Just follow the steeple sign
to Hiway 9.

When you're young your lungs are wide.
Air's a sweet rush without trying.
When you're old,
they narrow to a strain.
On your way through the symptoms list,
pray for miracles you might have missed.
And follow the steeple sign
to Hiway 9.


PRN - "as needed"

Inspired by mood wings' word list and Kelly Letky's photography.  Submitted to Real Toads.

Fearing that y'all really think I don't know how to spell, I added the bottom image. That's the cheesy, tacky feel I was going for.

Friday, August 29, 2014

Hundred Mile Wild

The first step into a hundred mile wild
sets you trembling like a child.
It's a pathless place that pulls you along.
Look back - the way you came is gone.
It's gone.

The first breath into a hundred mile wild
sings with the smoke of a thousand fires
drifting dark from the bridges you've burned.
The wildfire wind, it never turns.
Never turns.

The first day into a hundred mile wild
you take bones for bit and bridle.
The spurs that shred your skin are your own.
You bleed the lie that you're not alone.
Bleed alone.

The first night into a hundred mile wild
the constellations gather round
to whisper back all the wishes you made
on falling stars you couldn't save.
Couldn't save.

The other side of a hundred mile wild
is the missing verses of the Bible,
the lover you can't live without,
the sermon come down from the mount.
Come down.

It's the only way out.

For Hannah's prompt at Real Toads

Thursday, August 28, 2014

First Trip To The Beach

Hawaii, 2005

I tried 
to hold you high above the tide;
I tried.

Terror tasted salt and blue.

Once you were dry
and satisfied with solid ground,
I cried

for seashells lost
and the best I couldn't do.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014


I've left my little girl unchurched, but we pray
at the corner of 24th and Main -
a stoplight prayer
for God's grace
and a green light.

For Words Count at Real Toads

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Baby Me

Baby me bright
as the sunniest night
oh, radiant redhead of mine;
you know my kind

doesn't sleep much anyway.