Nostalgic

Thinking about lakes and fly fishing somedays Remembering snow-capped mountains Her Colorado land-escapes. Thinking about baseball caps And work worn hands of my grandfather Who saw much and said little In a memory scrubbed haze Thinking about freshly cut tree globes That gargoyled the other kin’s back on California Sundays A hastily packed suitcase full…

To name a friend

I’ll hide your name in between rhymes ’cause I don’t like to face particulars in my poetry time.I’ll hide your name in the sky in a memory of so many planes flying by  It is too difficult Forcing a cadence into the swarming hurt. I could probably find a pleasant metaphor to buttress a different…

Lean on You

The solace of friendship– So often threatened. The comfort of others– A cloak of fear keeps apart. So fragile the structures        That buttress all That hold together trust and prevent harm.

Pressure

To burst To escape To implode To collapse To ignite To break down the dams and avalanche the ocean To be that small stream of light that sneaks into the darkness To careen from the side of the mountain into the trees With the weight of a an anvil and the power of a bird…

At War

A chink in the armor. A leak in the helm. A part of me left open for you to crash into. Why this feeble footing so often falls below me I do not know My aim seems straight but falters in the bow. And I feel covered in duct tape. Taping anger Taping passion Taping…

The Novelty of Artists

  I’ve been introduced to cell windows and locked doors; met too many cold cement floors; said goodbye to mind-eradicating doses of nameless potions leaving my system and a trail of saliva on the ground. Things you’ll never have to remember. Things I don’t know how to forget. The clarity they said I lacked then…

Puttin on my Nashville Boots

Here I found all I need was some new heels to click against the ground so dangling sounds to softly pound by my ear drum hearing beats taking me across crowded 1 am downtown streets. Things were easier in my flower print dress. Summertime tans tell me this day was a success. Staring down the…

Class Lesson

“He passed away,” “No, say he died” Too blunt The teacher gives us the news I notice his shirt Slowly, quietly “at 2 am, he. . .” Maroon, with light pink “he looked green” A paisley design “after teaching 36 years” A very old looking shirt “math, science, teaching just last week” Very eccentric looking…

Sugar, Sugar

Strawberry skies In vanilla disguised And rushed blushes With unfamiliar sighs This caked application On homemade occasions Hand-dipped vacations With candle votives On chandelier highs When blueberry bagel dances Mimic romances Cheesecake speedways slide While red diner dives Take motorcycle-jacket guys Into smoke covered alleys While hazelnuts whisper Throwing caution aside And fountain cheeks dimple…

Micah

would that feathers were fierce enough to slice through your brittle brown skin would that words were hot enough to cook your raw red heart and you would break and you would break and you would break would that your image would die as fast as your passion for me did. would that the second…

Spilling tales into textual permanence

Spilling tales into textual permanence,  the writer happens upon her call. As natural as this clumsy reach for a plastic cup across the couch and onto the table that began dry and then gingerly flooded with clear liquid. We say, ‘it’s only water’ and continue through our day. That’s how it begins— in a scene…