Well, National Poetry Month is over and I’m pleased with myself for writing as much poetry as I did. I posted new poems 22 out of 30 days which is the best I’ve done for NaPoWriMo, ever. Last year I didn’t even attempt it so I feel good about this year’s effort. Not that I … More Glass Woman Prize: Supporting Women’s Writing
The unexpected humidity of a late April night curled the wisps of hair on my damp, exposed neck. The stillness of the air lay as heavily as a predator patiently waiting, the stars shining like sharp white teeth in the moonlight.
From the window of a moving train you can see only the big picture. Clouds and a wall of green move past like a dream that vanishes when you wake. To focus on one tree or one house or cloud makes your eyes cross with a feeling of hurtling into space from the broken safety … More The Big Picture
Stuckeys signs rise into the sky like lamp posts lighting the way from rest stop to bathroom break to late night motels with swimming pools (yay!) In between the miles I read every passing billboard – especially the ones showing sophisticated grown ups holding cocktails and cigarettes (temptation!) White and yellow stripes disappear behind us … More Driving To New Mexico, 1973
used to mean confused bewildered disorganized messy Now it means something smooth refreshing piquant palate spritzing is being prepared by hands sophisticated dexterous graceful buoyant just for you. Cheers!
Easter Sunday afternoon on the drive to Mamaw’s house we topped a hill (Like any other Mississippi hill) to see a tableau of wild jonquils, a riot of buttercream yellow and white, carpeting a gently sloping field. Mamma took our picture sitting among the flowers in the gentle spring sunlight, the three of us so … More Polaroid Moment
You taught me how to shave my legs, the downy almost invisible blonde strands of silk falling to the razors swath, the last vestige of a child’s body helpless against the vanity of a teenagers critical eye. But I loved you, that summer, loved your shiny pageboy flip, your tweezed eyebrows and ice pale lips. … More Summer of Mary
Disjointed dreams widen the cracks in a shifting foundation. Digestion creeps by degrees beneath the eroding surface swallowing right and wrong, skewing the underpinnings, cracking the ribcage, scattering rocks around disillusioned hearts.
Freedom is terror, Head thrown back, eyes to the stars, Sing, scream, dance of passions more vulgar devoured in glorious release
Name me any color you like: Chartreuse Vermillion Cattleya Lay me in a bed of rare papyrus among prismatic swirls of paisley nesting sweetly into each other and fill me in. When finally your epicene brush lifts from the page, we’ll cry like fools, licking our tears of hue and tint from our rapturous faces. … More Chroma