The Kiss, by Rick Mobbs
Again he dreamed of divine love
…………………..for Rick and Naomi
On a star-blue night
he dreamed of a kiss
ablaze in sunlight.
Up his spine rose bliss-
kindling sparks, smoke
and flames burned through his crown–
he was a dragon soaring over sunsoaked
nocturne cliffs and love-besotted towns,
consort of a woman with copper hair
who sang to him from afar:
mi amor, [...]
That wheezing in your chest?
It could be cat.
Felines
linked to sensitivity.
We are telling people
to have an increased exposure
to cats.
Heart to Heart
Heal the heart,
support a little,
help some
get heart.
If these doggerels sound like surreal public service announcements, it’s because I took the words from a health magazine I found while waiting in my pyschopharmacologist’s office. It was an [...]
She remembers, every time the first time
after Moving, by Jo Hemmant
She’s like a fallen moon in a fine rain
standing in an evening of this suburb,
leaning against a lamppost in a circle of light.
Then she remembers, and it is like a jolt.
Standing in an evening of smokebreath and darkleaf water,
waiting to view a house, curtains drawn, [...]
Cheetah dreams of Barefoot Boy
This is a children’s story I wrote to accompany Rick Mobb’s beautiful painting. He provides fantastical images each Thursday for writers to describe and explore. Thanks, Rick!
Cheetah dreams of Barefoot Boy
Barefoot Boy dreamed he could read the words on a page. “Topsy-turvy,” he read, so he decided he must be awake, [...]
I think about memory, time and self when I watch a heron
After I spy a blue
heron on a rock, the weather
clears, and I see myself: daughter,
sister, wife, a me
who lives in this shape,
a body directed in time toward this point.
The heron is a distant point
on a rock midstream, blue–
grey feathers shape
and protect its weather–
beaten [...]
you and me
you
you were a floating vagabond
as the waning sun gave way to moon
subtle, sensual, and strong
you roam the world with a worldly glee
to transcend the boundaries
along with suns, stars, moons
you were a floating vagabond
me
night after night
as I walk the streets
with intent to trample
in every pore and every nerve
mirrored pools of crisp cyan
soothing the tensions [...]
Not June Cleaver
It’s funny, the things I remember about June,
how she served hot Jell-O in Dixie cups, no stress
about washing up, made ox-tail soup each new moon,
and dried her hands on flowered aprons. She didn’t obsess
over bedwetting boys, urine soaked mattresses, or a snake
in the yard. That Bobo pooped in the sandbox was moot
since [...]
The Anxious Journey, by Giorgio De Chirico, 1913
1. I’ve decided not to attempt a daily published poem. I have to like what I put up on my blog, at least a little. There are only so many De Chirikus, Rothkos, and Pollocks the world needs to read. Besides, that Pollock, while no great work of [...]
My Grandma Midge
Midge made the sign of the cross
each time she heard a siren.
She was the youngest of ten sisters,
pregnant and married by nineteen.
We both feared and loved her
as she doled out Russell Stover lollipops
and pot shots with equal measure.
Meaner than cat piss, they called her.
She went to Phillip’s once a week
for a wash, [...]
Poems, pills, and rhymes
Sometimes I notice things about the butterfly
that aren’t very pretty. I’ll leave the stinging steam
of those words in the kettle. I don’t want you to cry
out in disgust, to break the spell of your poetic dream.
For weeks, out of boredom, I didn’t comb my hair,
letting the undergrowth snarl, like weeds in a [...]
