#MicropoetryMonday – March 13 – 19, 2017

Spring is here!

I’m feigning enthusiasm because it’s just not my season. I’m not a fan of the warm weather. In fact, I despise it. Plus, I don’t feel well. However, I don’t feel like complaining about things I can’t control or do anything about anymore so I won’t bore you with my chronic illness life details at this time. ūüėČ

I’m just extremely thankful that my creative brain has taken over and I’m doing all I can to make use of it. I love writing. I don’t know where I’d be without it.¬†

Enjoy last week’s micropoems. I wrote some longer pieces this week that I’ll be sending out for publication once they’re polished. I got a rejection letter today but that’s totally fine. I’m having fun sending off to the publishing world again. As Sylvia Plath said, “I love my rejection slips. They show me I try.”

Speaking of which, I’m currently reading The Bell Jar for the umpteenth time. Sometimes, you just need to.¬†

Here’s to another busy week! Hopefully my symptoms will ease up on me. ūüôā


a muse-
lyrical calling
streetlamp statues
stand guard
all is quiet
save for the pen delicately
caressing the page


Sleepaway Camp stomachache
Too many smores
Defying lights out
Trading dreams until
the sky breaks open,
bleeds periwinkle blue


It was liquid discouragement   I knew
     the drunker I got
the more likely
    this martini
truth serum


On the pier with my favorite wallflower
he expresses concern over
mixing the worlds
kicks seashells at injustice
& croons Lou Reed
to the moon


It’s a lonely road
but I’ll crawl it
I’ll make friends
with myself
along the way
Great Spirit
will guide me,
light my path
every day

Accustomed to broken promises, she often broke her own. Caught in a hailstorm on an afternoon stroll, she wound up on his front porch again.

Sugar sweet lies,
the candy coated kind
 at that
Syrup tears,
strawberry kisses
 leave it at that
I’ll believe you


for each time
my ear is tickled
by stories

by each voice
my heartbeat drums for

to be a part of tradition


Today’s theme is indecision
I’m pulled apart in all directions
It’s just the season
spiraling out of control
With age comes less naivety
I mean
10 years ago
I may have spent
the afternoon
destroying my
But I’m definitely
not going to
The time of wicker figures
cavorting on horizons
but only
in dreams
An underground coven
lipsyncing the ancient chants
washing dishes
in front of dusty windows
suncatcher rainbows
dancing on her face
she’d be tense as a deer
if dark clouds were near
Sing to me those Motown songs
from the back porch swing
Watchin’ the boys play basketball,
runnin’ after toddlers,
countin’ fouls
Perfect line
to the chapel
Perfect wine
sacrificial sample
Perfect white
veils for Communion Day
Perfect time
to wonder how the wafer tastes
he was openly inviting
fresh for the biting

I want to go to Vienna
Walk the paths of
favorite movies
It must be a good spot
for lovers
& pianos crashing
onto the street
yellow ribbon
yanked from hair
to tie to a branch
of a memory tree
poms were
on every front porch
& some meant sons
& fathers didn’t make it
The mailman whistles
his Tuesday tune
I wait at the gate
all afternoon
For doting reply
from my dear one
Song turns melancholic
there’s none

Wrapped in a cloak of constellations
she tosses meteors my way
I catch a comet trail
past Andromeda
Moon dances with firelight
I fly til day
Mid morning motivation,
battered copy of Byron in back pocket
Early bird caught hell
from the shore joggers
One line in
& he’s
labeled lazy
Two world walkin’
The delicate balance
of fine lines
Tread lightly
on eggshells
You know they think
you’re not supposed to be here;
You are
Tangled issue takeaway
Derailment train
causes headaches,
tearing of hair
(Not a hair’s length of sense!)
You say you’re educating
I’m lost

With tired feet, we press on
The Red Road can be rocky
We carry  generations of burdens
but hold each other up
through the journey
The dark turns of the later years
just before the end
Those are the best ones
It’s where we see who people truly are
Who they’ve grown to be
Courtesy of Buffy, The Vampire Slayer
There’s little between us
We’re like magnets
Polar opposites
Worlds apart
I’m the beat
of your cold, dead heart
The first step–
to recovery
to a life anew
to admitting
she had a problem
–to take
was hers & she did
after that she could never sit still
After you left
I still played in the twilight snow
& the roses in your backyard still grow
there’s a hole inside me
Pain of letting go
Late at night
the outlines of the strangers
I was so tormented
at the thought of
take shape
play tag across the room
haunt me
Kissing in the lightning
storms come & go, baby
I’ll always be right here,
catching raindrops from
your eyelashes
in electric jolts
I tell you
my uncles
were galloping horsemen
I’m not talking stallions,
though their long manes
did flow with never-ending strength
Author’s Note: This micropoem is a little intro of sorts to a longer poem I’m working on. Part two is a little tough for me to write but it’s coming along. It will most likely end up in the chapbook I’m working on. Stay tuned for details about that because once it’s finished I will be releasing it in some form.¬†


Originality? Don’t sweat it
We’re eating up
        of remakes
                 of remakes
Rewrite it
With more regurgitation
Light calls to the dark
shines a way
Planets in crisis
keep turning anyway
The universe works together
night can’t survive without day
Sleep tugs at your eyelids
Morning glory — off to bed
Let me in there
I’ll snuggle up to the dreams
inside your tousled head
I’ll listen to the singers
w gravel in their voices
all day
I want my very eardrums
to feel their pain
some way
Heart tugged
they say
I’m ok
The heart can be angry too
It can be consumed by flames
of hateful things
people say to you, they feel they have to
til it kills you
I swear
No time
for tears to dry
Floral decked crowds
draw a breath
We kiss goodbye in secret
No need for display
as you walk away
Hold your breath
Let no blink
make a sound
There are whispers
screaming secrets
When you can quiet
the demons hanging around
Keep to the sacred,
but live
be sure to live
no more
replacements for
gains wisdom
ceremony can give
So much more
is sketchy
Puffed up wolves
swearing to defend
your honor,
beer breath
in windblown hair
They’re there, yah
cheering as you

Her home was the lighthouse
for all caught on a weathered journey
Its warmth felt holy
piercing the veil of darkest nights
Gull counting, under bridge,
another country across it
Uncle & I abandoned our poles
long ago so he could tell of lands that didn’t want him
I would wish for all my heroes
to jump from screen,
from page,
from the deepest echoes
of memories in my brain,
& show me how to
save myself
There will come a day
when there will be no
cause (literal) to study,
read up on
No horrible snakes left
to defend land from
But not today
Fragile minds, susceptible
to the beetle burrowing
of the glossy three-pieces
collecting a fortune
in their skulls,
weep when they
wake up
They take blood
to confirm what’s already known
I’m poked & prodded
so they’ll be paid
Vials of me
as proof of
their incompetence
to cure
I find courage in words
the dead ones thought
to write down
I stack them on every surface,
wrap them around me
when I sleep
Ma’s love stretched over us
along with her arm
when she had to brake
too fast
She’d never trust a yellow light
No, never again
seeks my heart
to keep him invisible
I’m not home
So he waits on my doorstep
I hear his case,
judge him unworthy
He returns
to her
Azure dust on your eyelids
when the more natural pink
of them is majestic enough
How do you do that,
Raise the dead w/ just
a flick of lash?

the mark on his forehead
was a fairy kiss
we told him this
an attempt to deter
him from getting a complex
he grew to love his
freckle flecks
our favorite songs to bond over
are the ones that strengthen us,
make us dance in gratitude
these are the ones
on repeat
blessed harmony
No strong suit today
My armor barely covers
& is splashed w/ bullet holes
The seemingly insignificant
slips right in & festers
under my skin
Circulating ashes
in the system
Who designed this?
Who thought suffering
was so beautiful
they called it life?
Your eyes won’t leave mine
when you tell me a story,
after thousands of kisses
They light up every time,
whenever I’m
in the room
Appreciate the awkward
In fact
Stop saying all the
Natural nuances
&everything you do
Are awkward
Achingly adorable
Is more like it
I unthink too much now
After a lifetime of being
“too smart” “too literal”
“thinking too much”
“you’re smart but
have no common sense”
The little ones-
always watching
you cry on the kitchen counter
They hear
The fights, your panic in the night
The dulled spark
in your eyes
It’s not the number of states between us,
it’s the dirty laundry we hurl
Maybe we’ll build a bridge
to each other
Wave them in surrender
I am not offended by your well wishes
I only feel a billion times
worse when I am
unable to live up to them
& I may be killing
myself to try
Once a wiry lean post
a tattered doormat
Now a rickety old fence
keeping a battered heart
From breaking again
when it was finally on the mend

She molds me, I am stuck
Glue to her
    devouring kisses
hazelnut coffee & nicotine
I have them
She smoothes
     them over
Conversing with the oaks
They listen
is lonesome
But woods make good company
on charcoal nights when better times
keep you awake
The sweet agony
of the highlighted curtain
going dark
Invitation only
A blinking SOS
for only me
Clicking with new companions
Seeking, finding
New old faces
that teach emotional
damage control
in a chasm of ancient ruins
We are particles
I’m afraid
Ground to bits
When they excavated,
dissected, & 
endangered us
City life is draining me
I’m exhausted
overthinking sirens
Passerby paranoia
Paper thin walls
Pin drops & paper
Rustling of pigeon wings
The Law of Attraction
can be poetic tragedy
All the songs
of you
Sensory overload
& I can’t escape
I need
Happiest in a sea
of denial
The tide dragging
me out
The familiars on shore
mouth praise
I can’t hear them
They try
but I won’t
be pulled in
This half life I live is fine
I make the days good
Part of me feels free
A productive mind
stays happy
But my shell is cracking,
breaking me
When the electricity plays
   connect the dots 
inside of me   struck match
sulfur   invasion of nostrils  Your voice
lulls  the beasts away
Hit a window
  of time
to smash through
  was a threat to me
Open Door Policy
  they spy on me
Lost minutes
  to track
Don’t worry
about reaching
some type of
A step is a poem
In conversation
you learn
That’s all you gotta do
Peeking planetary
Twilight Wedge
of golden silence
Alpenglow–Dark fractions
dividing illumination
I can’t”
Fear of flying, confined spaces
Claustrophobia & colonialism,
Lack of funds
These things keep us too far apart

Jukebox taunts
neon pink glow
optical illusion
of checkered
Smoke swirls
grey mist haze
audio hallucination
of her singing
So homesick
the wax apples
anger me
I can smell orchards still
I used to look down from trees
Now I climb
collapsing ladders
& I can’t reach
Desert heat, thick as syrup
Big Dipper, you big ladle
Cool me with fresh insight
while I search, warily
for a new head to cradle
Grass stained cheek,
mouth of mud
& geranium pressed lips
Pearly pastel hands
crushed screams
The half moon
is his jaw
at me
Charmed by the Lakeview
Pristine sheen Paradise
Soon, our getaway will end
We breathe in the end of winter air
Vowing to return
I can fly
through favorite books
as I reread them
I feel they’re
imprinted on my soul
etched in my spine
I know the
story won’t change
I will
your shelves
with your knickknacks,
your cherished plaster martyrs
they shook
when he came home
you scramble
to dust them
The origin
of the strange:
Let’s backtrack
When did you
notice the oddities?
When did the
world turn its
back on you?
That won’t do
I can’t remember the names
of the lost women
who helped me find me
But I can’t forget our bond
All we lived through
All we’d seen

Sunshine City
The day had its way with us
Bus fumes intoxicated us
Not in that good way
Not that glamour filter
Of glittering nights way
prayer tendrils
my nookomis
sent up
connected with
the night bugs
she stayed
moth silent
while they
sang all the songs
she couldn’t
*nookomis- Grandmother (Ojibwemowin)

And what of my barrenness?
I lie a lot. Say I’m glad for it. (Most days I am.) It adds to the less than.
I feel I’m doing less than my duty.
Whose though?
Whose best laid plans
for me, the mass I occupy?
Does it matter?
Existence &
persistence of memory
linger after death
Sub-genres, partial,
demi-, multi-
“It is what it is” & also
“It’s not, it’s both”
Silly humans
Complicating all the good
& simple things
Raspberry picking
“Leave some for the pies!”
If I had known that was the last time,
the last birthday poem, the last laugh fest
I would have
All four seasons
pass along the highway
He knows
snow banks melt to mud puddles
He’s seen
empty deserts
southern rains
all the blues of the sky
For Driver Matt

Do you claim to know
the soul of another?
Like you’ve been in there
with your dirty hands
Raiding through rubbish,
leaving prints
I can’t fathom moving forward
when old guitar strings hold me here
I’m there
In that line
in the second verse
Right there
I wanna go back
Hurling clock
at TV when
the score’s not right
We’re settling old scores
No one wins a remote
battle if we can’t find
the damn thing
Backstreet alley, behind our house
Learning early lessons
Docs weren’t the only ones with needles
Later, we learned docs dealt too
Incremental lover
bit by bit
Comes undone
piece by piece
Whole again
bygone bye
leave me
The king picks his peasants clean
No easy way to hide them
Don’t speak as he feasts
It makes his fragile blood boil
Pure happiness
when we share
Bits & pieces
of ourselves
You with your
charcoal sketches
Me with my
unrelenting pen
Pullout map placemat
All night drive makes
truck stop look gourmet
We see people selling appropriation
Burgers turn to cardboard
in our bellies

I love morning chatter
 of feathered friends
Hummingbird buzzing with gossip
Dove laments a lover
Sparrow chases Cardinal
 ducking for cover
I had spinning dreams
of frozen ponds
Me spiraling
through air
on figure skates
Audience of pines
shuddered in
my whirlwind’s wake
Hands of silk
A barely-billow
brushing across my back
I drift
on the waves
of your breath in my hair
You’re calming,
A safe ocean
Every Sunday, a postictal state
Aura assault, hypnotic light flashes
Drums echo from a far off place–discombobulated
Still too close
stillness of sound
seemed intrusive
the night
on guard, tensed
ominous omen
eclipsing the essence of nature’s nocturnal music
Bathtub, ivory ice
Muted light, frosted glass
 My breath is there  I see it
Milky clouds, miracle  I made it 
Savior in the mirror
Collision vision
I am sick
from all the wor(l)ds
inside of me
Purge, though grudgingly
I am tired
But it’s all just
that more vivid
in sleep
Walk around, cloud carrying
Shade from the mercury light bulbs
They burn, but only you
& the path
of your patterned pacing

Sail on, faithful &
mighty cloud ship. Float on in
love & destined dreams.

The larvae have grown
They nest, hatch from within me
Spawn dine on organs

VSS ( Very Short Stories):

She washed her hands in the river, the blood billowing like ink in the turbid ripplets.

I’m stagnant in the sunshine,
he’s bored in a blizzard.
-“My methods are hard to grasp”
-“You make them believe outside is so dangerous when the monster is you”
-“That’s how I got here”

He was quite the character.
I penned him with adoration.

Brew a pot. He’s arrived,
wild stories in his eyes.
He stopped doing
what he thought
he was supposed
to do because
it’s what everyone
wanted. No one
noticed. Nothing

“Drunken Stupor”
Skittering scarabs slice like a scythe over me. So soft sounding they are,
in the pitch blackness of this drunken stupor.
“I only need a song’s length to tell a story.”
He got into it then.
His hands made unintentional shadow illustrations on the wall.
You made room. I’m not
cramping your heart space anymore.
Dumb luck
One time I found a 4-leafed clover
Someone told me I couldn’t
I searched for hours, took rest
There it was, under my nose

I conjure a memory through a daydream
of you pressing on when your hands
were too unsteady for beadwork.
I gather mashkawizii from this.
*mashkawizii : inner strength (Ojibwemowin)

WIP (Works in Progress):

–The plume in her hat combined with her obsidian gaze & beak of a nose, which she stared down at us from, made her resemble a gawking crow.

–The Lawn Chair Ladies, our mothers, were trading gossip the way we kids traded Garbage Pail Kids cards. They were oblivious.
Have a fantastic week, everyone! Thank you as always for reading my work. I am truly grateful for all of you who support me. ‚̧

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