Wednesday, October 1, 2014

colouring with magic markers

photo by jyki salmi

on the corner post of the porch railing
a single strand of web
& winks in the starshine,

bereft of cocooned flies, awaiting the last supper,
Ms. Muffet,
or even its spider

the dew is thick,
coffee hot,

on my lip,
in my hands

as the flowers begin to stir
down below
                    ever so slight
                    at the blush


up over
her mountains.

for  PJ

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

persephone's girlhood

photo by magic madzik

should i keep this baby?

is scrawled on plywood barring the way
into a condemned building

they are remodeling as luxury apartments
by the river//

i should be glad

it's not on Facebook where the number of likes
dictate life
              & it's raised quite the debate
in ball point pen, i won't
             the wisdom of the street,
of drunk revelers on Friday Nights, homeless
& angry Bible thumpers

Damocles' sword hangs by a single horse hair
for any who crave that power

& i don't find her in the book store
two doors down, on the corner---
it's empty, but the owner,

a small girl in a retro-neon seventies dress,
thick frame glasses

"we've been open a couple months
but haven't really got much attention,"
her lips purse

& all the shelves full of words
& heroes besting impossible odds
all end in periods

i kneel
to the unfilled space between them,
to the stories untold///as unsellable

we don't last long

my boys are restless;
on the sidewalk, another woman,
older, in furs chides her dog, as she would
a child, "Mr. Wiggleston needs to listen,
yes, he does."

& i won't argue
with that.

for dVerse Poets
title take from a piece by Louise Gluck.

Sunday, September 28, 2014

you are here

photo by matt metz

he's always here

the man in black,
black jeans, black t-shirt
hair slick back, moustache trimmed
as a neat bush & a beat patch
under the bottom lip,

my boys call him 'the millionaire'
for all the gold & diamonds///a ring
for each finger, rope bracelets
& necklace
                  hung to mid chest

he craves it
hotdogging as he passes the tables
on black roller skates

i make him
mid to late fifties///legs weaving in & out
shaking his ass
                       & when it gets
                           too hot

out comes the black
towel to wipe his brow & he finds
the same corner seat

checking&texting his black
phone, he never talks
to anyone

just dances in circles with himself
& anyone who will watch.
when i saw her
i had hope
                    the way she pumped
faster & fast
                   just about right,               
maybe once
he'd find someone
to share the dance

after all the years,
i've watched

but the show goes on
& another song brings him off the phone,
out to shake what he's got

& she's gone
& he'll always be here,
the same way i am
where i am;

my boys drain the last bit
of soda from the pitcher.

Saturday, September 27, 2014

days gone & almost home

photo by University of Liverpool

i lay in bed with my bones
having hung up my skin

it hangs limp in the closet
& i've closed the door on it

perhaps the next person to wear it
will make better use

my bones are blue
my bones are grey
as thistle weed

her phalanges play a song
along my ribs, a hollow haunting
tune---we dance

clicking, clacking
silent as a lone finger
to the lips

& the big fat moon
          the big fat moon,

bobs at the end of its string
in the shadows//on the other side
of the room.

for dVerse - OpenLinkNight

Thursday, September 25, 2014

the art of leaving

photo by brooke shaden

Autumn walks the forest in bare feet,
dressed in a rustic rainbow that leaks
& leaves
             like a girl in a flammable skirt
standing too close to the flame,
knowing all it takes
is a spark

--- it's already too late
& soon
           it will all burn
but damn,

for a moment,
it's going to be brilliant.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

there is no map to where i have been

photo by brooke shaden

fairy tales are rarely fair, even the best
are not quite happily ever after/// 

or the kiss on the lips
that wakes you from eternal sleep---


no, there is teeth
& the copper taste of communion//

          a body broken
                       a blood poured out

& we practice make believe
as if everything were okay
                                that the world
                                was in bloom
our ball gowns unripped,
& no snow can touch us//this is Idaho
in the winter
                  which is a misconception
because it is dry,
                    but for the rivers

& Eden is a place we never return
in our knowing;
                     is a plate of fried chicken,
the grease where the rib bones arch
& touch the ceramic,
like finger prints

---of all Batman's villains, it was Zsasz
that scared me --- not so much his quest 
to liberate people of their mortal prison,
as much as the tally marks he carves into himself
keeping track, the sigh
                                  of the twice relieved

the truck pulls even with my car only
for a moment, enough to see her leg
propped in the window, the alabaster flesh
& the script
                 of red written in one inch
                         & they are beyond me
                         & already
                                      emptying the road
                                      leaving me
                                      somewhere east
                                      of Idaho

for dVerse

Thursday, September 18, 2014

where am i

i am making sundaes on wednesday,
at court with kids from school, i only know
well enough to say i hope ---

well, that is as far as i got in my explanation is wearing on me a bit between grad school, school (work), family, church --- pretty much all my spheres. I am exhausted at the end of the day right now as too tired to log in and say hi. (sorry)

Family is good.

I am alive.

trying to sleep at night and not think about everything.

thank you to those that checked in, sorry to make you worry.

i will return.