Joy of Poetry

Wreckage Is it the end? A car curled around a tree, a sleepless night waiting, a man walks out the door, black clothes and shadows surround a deep hole. Fast forward: A car spray-painted bright colors, embraced in green-leafed branches, a new man walks in, flowers and laughter chase away shadows. Not the end, a new birth. Beauty beams out of the wreckage. published in the Survival issue of Pine Cone Review

Photosynthesis Under fairy lights, asters germinate together, a photosynthesis to empty sour sorrow into milk bread, to dissolve aster leaves into sweet tea serenity. Let healing overflow. published by Aurora Journal on social media

Oops Up all night, I couldn’t sleep. My brain abuzz, my fingers flying, multi-tasking to the max. I messaged friends in far-flung places, while climbing levels in two games, I ordered burgers from my favorite online bistro, and diet coke because I’m cutting down on sugar. While eating, I shopped online for leather pants and fancy shoes. Suddenly, the screen was black. All the lights went out. I looked outside, the streets were dark. I broke the internet again. Oops. published in The Piker Press

The Broken Column For Frida Kahlo Frida, dear Frida, how did you stand the pain? What earthquake cracked you open? What disaster smashed the stanchion of your spine, filled the air with dust and rubble? A monument to will, corseted and sewn together, nailed tight. published in Neuro Logical

Slight Change of Plans A dog should detour when that hydrant is a cactus. There are much better places to pee. A skydiver should skedaddle for a coffee to dunk donuts than to dunk one nuts in cold Atlantic brine. A flower should cower, make another bloom appointment when the sky rains satellites upon the ground. A slight change of plans just might guarantee you a second chance for doing something wrong. published in 30/30 Poetry

Salvation Another word for salvation is deliverance. Or was that a male-bonding movie? Not a movie with golfing, or postmen with letters, but with white water rapids, the loss of a river, the loss of a town. No mail delivered, no salvation from sin. Golf might be more boring, might not bring deliverance, but it is much safer to play with your friends. published in 30/30 Poetry

Each Morning an Animal Each morning an animal growls at the clock, rises from bed, brews thick mud coffee. Each morning an animal works out to music, leads a zoom meeting, kisses his wife. Each morning an animal paints on a smile, pretends to be house-trained, then hunts with the pack. published in The Drabble

Lean on Me I am the cane that steadies you. I am the solid wall that keeps your chair from tipping. When you feel abandoned, I am your last friend. Trust me, I’m always here for you. Isn’t that what anger is for? published in Spillwords

Pumpkin Your sweetness is consumed, you are a hollow, knobby shell of what you used to be. Toothless you bellow of children dressed as nightmares, who kicked you to a rocky resting place. Your anger is the opposite of your faded orange skin. published in the April 2022 WyoPoets News

Boy in a Ball He slumps against the wall, head bowed, arms on knees. A human ball. Perhaps his heart fell out of his chest. He watches it pulse on the floor. Perhaps he wants to be very small, to disappear into shadow. Boy in a ball, will you roll out of sight if I offer you my hand? published in the in the April 2022 WyoPoets News

Good Mother She looks over my shoulder, corrects my punctuation. She sits in the back seat, directs me to a parking place. When I’m in pain she hugs me, and tells me it won’t last forever. She rests beside me when I sleep. She says, don’t worry, you won’t be late. She is a good mother, Death. published in Dark Entries

Sit at Your Own Risk This recliner is not for use in a moving motor home or boat. It will not protect you from accidental ejection or dejection. Keep this recliner away from burning cigarettes or your old flame. Upholstery can release toxic fumes or toxic quips. Do not trap your head in moving recliner parts. This recliner is not designed as a weight-loss machine. Do not stand on this recliner. It is not a catapult, even if the cat thinks so. published in Dark Entries

Misfit I’m an eccentric oddball, not even my attire fits in. I dress in the dark in my wardrobe, doors shut and eyes closed. Groping in shadow, I put on whatever I touch. incongruous colors and patterns. Clothes on backwards. Or upside down. This is my solemn confession: I’m horribly shy. Now my secret is unveiled. Now I am out of the closet. published in Roi Faineant Press

Something Dark Wear something dark to shine in, black velvet on white skin. Brush mascara on the moon. Paint black lipstick on the light bulb. Be something dark to shine in. Flaunt the old scars of your soul. Sing your sins. Dance with death. Shine in something dark. published in Tiny Frights

Morgan le Fey Your robes and cape are partners to your dance, a swirl of filmy, floating colored gauze. As you raise the magic glowing in your hand, you are a sorceress spider spinning webs of treachery and death. published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal

Medea Why do you clutch red beads around your neck? To feel the clotted blood, a river cold between your fingers? Or do you want to choke the fear that paints your eyes? Is the cup you pour into the fire cold against the warmth? Is it liquid poison, is it guilt? published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal

Open Mouth Policy You’re new here, you with the vacant smile, your eyes unbuttoned, Your hands detached. We’re friendly here, we want to help. Step into our open mouth, pull up a tongue or tooth, bring your own foot if you prefer. We don’t bite. Hard. Feel free to chat, be candid. We have a policy for that. Release your inhibitions. We have a drug for that. Say whatever comes to mind, we’ll teach you if if it breaks the rules we haven’t told you yet. We have a padlocked room for that. And no one ever gets out. published in international poetry anthology “Snaps of Scintillating Souls"