Sunday, May 31, 2015

Fear

Fear has a smell - hops caught
in the teeth.  Got a hymn
to the hymen.  Got
dark, dim

hands that splay-finger shade
and go where the girl goes
to first blood her glade;
it flows where the girl flows.

Here lies
the truth of the first cast stone:
fear never dies
it just changes its tone

and its look; a hay field or manicured lawn,
it goes where the girl goes. The fear's never gone.

For Bjorn's prompt at Real Toads

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Alive

From this green grass cradle, I
touch
the blue of the blackening sky.
Watch
the stars disrobe and shine.

It's a milk and mudcake night.

There's a poem on my lips
from
my heart and from my hips.
From
my toes, my fingertips;

It's alive.

So am I.

For Izy's prompt at Real Toads

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Weed

Red State Walmarts sell no weed.
Not a stem.  Not a seed.
You can buy all the beer and Big Pharma you need.
But Red State Walmarts sell no weed.

Couldn't resist passing a little weed over to Susan at Poets United.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Mama's Place

Guidance
and good reads.
A bible
with a female lead.
Coffee
and smoke - clove sweet
and clinging

to ghosts hived
in jasmine pages.
Paper riddles
soft and sacred.
Words loved
loose, naked,
singing

here.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Read This

Tully & Toril collaboration "Four Good Eggs

Alone.
Aloud.
All the way through.  Then

crease the corners,
craft something that flies.  Or

beat the line breaks
till they bruise

blue
as your robin's egg eyes.

Revisiting Artistic Interpretation's Art with Toril for Play It Again at Real Toads

Friday, May 22, 2015

Alpha Bitch Can

Alpha bitch
can get things
done.
Every closed door is a broken window.

Alpha bitch
can find
feral words while
growling through her lipstick
while helping pups with homework without
batting an I (can't take this anymore!).

Alpha bitch
can kill with kindness,
love lick,
mother,
nurse -
one handed and half-brained.

Alpha bitch
can feed on pain

and never needs
peace or
quiet or
rest or
sleep;
never stands on the threshold of an ugly cry,
a very ugly cry,
wishing she'd never laid eyes on these people,
wishing she was still young enough to run
somewhere
anywhere
anywhere but - NO!

exhale / inhale

Alpha bitch can

exhale / inhale

keep her zen and her shit

exhale / inhale

together.

An alphabetical (look for it!) to do list poem for the Birthday Girl at Real Toads. Inspired by the FOUR HOURS I spent last night building a car out of pipe cleaners and duct tape.

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Just Like I Remember

your rain
wet
kiss

just like I remember

your here
& there
hands

I couldn't forget

2
a.
m.

I surrender

yes

god, yes

For Insta-Poetics at dVerse

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Common Law

She never said yes.
She never said no.
She can't remember the Friday
he didn't go home
and didn't go home
and didn't go home,
didn't go -

common law wedding.

No flowers, no dress,
just a long drawn out mess.
What's hers.
What's his.
What's theirs.
Leave the rest.
Leave the rest,
leave the rest,
leave the rest,
leave the rest,
just leave -

common law divorce.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Saturday, May 16, 2015

These Things

I write these things because I must
keep the truth for prying eyes
and lock lies in my rusted trust.
I write these things because I must.

I'm the bluff, and I'm the tell.
A silhouette spread 'neath the sheets.
Call or fold me in farewell.
I'm the bluff; I'm the tell,

the knell,
the need
to write these things.

For Karin's prompt at Real Toads

Friday, May 15, 2015

King B

King B gone to glory,
Lucille at his side.
King B gone to glory,
Lucille at his side.
Sting in all his fingers;
honey in his slide.

We're weepin' in the hive and singin'
mournful, soft, and slow.
We're weepin' in the hive tonight
mournful, soft, and slow.
World done lost a Blues Boy - oh!
the places he did go.

For Marian's prompt at Real Toads.  I had written something different, but when I saw that B.B. King had died, I had to go there.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Feed Me

Feed me a poem
more bitter than sweet.
I have sensitive teeth;
they ache when you sugarcoat.

Bleed me a poem
salty and sure.
Impractically pure.
Poison.  Antidote.

Cure.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Sunday, May 10, 2015

The First Mother's Day After

"Don't forget Mom," the ads say -  as if I need to be reminded.

Grief has a startling clarity and is cobra quick in its strike.

A poem, a picture, a story, or song; breathing, sleeping, awake.

I remember, I remember, I remember her gone, and I ache.

Saturday, May 9, 2015

Sliver Kids

She held herself like a catchpenny bird
of dime store glass.

"Why worry?
The wind will have its way,"

she said,
and when it did

the two of us
were kids

stuck sucking at the slivers
in our fingers.

For Grace's prompt at Real Toads

Friday, May 8, 2015

Fragments (For Me Alone)

I see signs in every fragment.
Rain is the murmur
of insistent gods,
and the starquilt sky
stitches words for my eyes
alone.

All alone
with my fragments -
my mosaic eyes
to the moon murmur
sky-
I serve and sacrifice my insistent gods.

Cruel gods!
They left me in the garden alone -
with a starquilt sky,
fragments,
murmurs,
and clay for eyes.

I curse these eyes
and their peculiar visions of gods.
I murmur
like an Israelite to be left alone -
fragments
gone and sky

just sky.
I bless these eyes,
fill them with fragments
left by the gods
for me alone.
Murmurs,

murmurs,
a starquilt sky
for me alone.
Mosaic eyes,
gods
in fragments

for me alone.  Murmurs and words for my eyes
in the sky for me alone. Insistent gods
and the signs I see - for me- alone - in the fragments.

A weird little offering for M's prompt at Real Toads

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

The Coming Of Age

The coming of age
went largely unnoticed
because I was busy

tending the dying,
the living,
and getting by.

Now, when I glimpse
this grayer me in the mirror,
I'm surprised -

and a little grateful (I can't lie)
that I still don't have the time
to really look.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Sunday, May 3, 2015

Tough

I've got whip stitch lips and a sea salt tongue;
I'm a girl too tough to cry.
Ugly as the baby bird
the old tomcat left behind.

You can love me with the lights off.
Then you can leave me in the dark.
I'm a girl too tough to die
from a silly broken heart.

55 words for Kerry at Real Toads