Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Monday, December 28, 2015


Out of a jewelry box--
in summer--
came a soul.

Creating a body from candle wax,
and fashioning feathers from locust leaves,

it said itself a songbird.

From the hand of the Boho Goddess--
in plenitude--
came night, bouzouki stars, pendant suns.

Little songbird, no bigger than a breath--
how empty the world--

and the wooden box
of my heart suspended--

when you're gone.

Sunday, December 27, 2015

Review: A Life

 It's a little slow to get going, honestly. The early dialogue is impossible without subtitles, and little happens with the plot; it's mostly some kind of study on basic bodily functions. Not sure what the director was going for here, and the plot device of "parents" and their largely inexplicable attachment to this character is perplexing and not entirely believable.

After a while, the character begins to do more, but its dialogue becomes peppered with "like" and "whatever" to the point of irritation. Much of the action in this segment takes place in a large building full of similarly odd characters divided into groups of twenty-five or thirty, who don't seem to be enjoying being there very much. Is it a prison movie? Not sure.

Then, in a cinematic master stroke, the director shows us this character becoming more and more like the "parents" from the beginning of the film. Despite some fairly predictable rom/com scenes and an improvement in costume, the statement that's made about circularity and fate more than offsets the feeling that we've seen all this before. 

Finally, this film borrows heavily from improvisational theater and European sensibilities as the character falls into decrepitude and foolishness. The dialogue once again becomes rambling and incoherent, and even the character no longer recognizes the rest of the cast, so how is the viewer to make any sense of it? 

In sum, I can't recommend this. While it has moments that seem to promise something, on the whole it is a mishmash, with a frustratingly ambiguous message. Two stars.

Bon Vivant/ Exis Ten, 2015, maximum distribution. Rated R, length 60-90 years. Stars Jennifer Connolly, Leonardo DiCaprio, Dwayne Johnson, Miley Cyrus, and features Sandra Bullock as a bag of stale candy. Rated 23% at Rotten Tomatoes.

For Play It Again Toads. I used "review". 


Friday, December 25, 2015

Sleeping Beauty

Sleeping Beauty's real name was Veronica and she was doing just fine,
wearing silver bangles and selling crafts and woodwork and stuff
from her shop on the corner of Cool and Funky.

Then this prince kisses her
like maybe he was running for office
cos he kept saying "!"
despite the fact that she was 23 and curvy as a mountain road.

Well, after that she just couldn't stay awake.
She'd sway between the displays, knocking stuff over and mumbling.
The prince kept calling, 
but that just made her worse--
she curled up in the window and made the cat run the store.

Pretty soon her voice mail filled up.
"Ronnie? It's mom. Are you okay?"
She wasn't. Never had a kiss bored a woman so thoroughly.
The cat tried to help by jumping on her,
and dropping toys on her face, but nothing could stir her.

Then one day, Ronnie's friend Chloe,
the serial killer from the coffee shop next door, stopped in.
"Oh fudge," she said as she took in the conked out chica.
So she went next door and got the Succubus, 
and together they each took an arm across their shoulder
and dragged the bored babe over to Danny's. 

God the waitress took one look and put on a fresh pot.
Ronnie's cat came strolling in the open door and sat down licking its paw,
knowing that everything would be all right now.
Later, deep in conversation with the kitten Giuseppe Verdi,
he revealed what had happened.
God, who speaks Cat, heard the whole thing.

Wouldn't you know, just at that moment,
here comes the prince, flashing his pearly whites,
but he barely had time to duck before a hail of napkin dispensers came his way.
The Queen of the Vampires, in black panther form, leaped
and bowled over old Princey, then dragged him out the door with her teeth.
Chloe the serial killer stood in the front window,
smirking and waggling a sign that read,
"Danny's reserves the right to refuse service to anyone."

Anyway, I'm happy to say that the Danny's girls
were able to bring Ronnie back from the edge.
They sure are hip, ain't they?

So, Merry Christmas from God and Denise (waitresses), The Queen of the Vampires, the Succubus, Chloe, The Dark-Haired Chick, Savanna the Teenage Runaway, the kitten Giuseppe Verdi, and everyone at Danny's Coffee Shop!

For Get Listed at Real Toads. I used "corner", "edge" and "sleep(ing)".

Image: Christina Scabbia of Lacuna Coil.


Sunday, December 20, 2015


Tell me I'm beautiful,
and that you could fall in love with me.
I'm a pretty billboard splashed with promises--
be the slant-boards holding me up.

She broke my heart--
I'm a big empty box full of shards.
Don't shake me, just let me be a star that doesn't move--
I do give some light, if you do all the work.

Sir Knight, I admire you truly--
broad shoulders do something to a girl, even me.
I like the careful knot of your tie, your cologne,
your starched shirt, your smile.

I'll make you laugh and feel good,
all without risking anything, because I won't feel more than fondness.
Then, just when you think we really have something,
I'll be gone, caught up by some woman

Like a kite in the wind, and as fragile.

For mag # 299. 


Friday, December 18, 2015

Stock, Celery, Carrots

For the soup--
stock, celery, carrots.
What of the egg, the seed, your hand in mine
last winter, or the one before?

The chicken, the garden, the blackberry summer
never knew what hit them--
Look now and you won't find a damn thing.

I stir stock, celery, carrots--
the pot steams my windows til I'm blind.

Still, I go through the motions, because that's the expected thing.
I don't even feel the bowls in my hand--
I have no appetite at all, and yet I am the Mistress of Delicious Things

Consumed by others and praised
until they set their wet spoons down to stain the cloth.

A bitchy little number for Kerry's challenge about time, at Real Toads.

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Catholic Girl On The Loose

Sans shoes,
sans pants,
I am Joan
saving France.

Behold my pennant, my purpose, Saint Margaret and Saint Cat;
bold as bread made from molasses, unshorn hair as plain and black.

Bonjour English
A bientot--
teach you Francais
when I grow.

Ten lines for Kerry's micro-challenge at Real Toads.

Image: "The Flag" by Thomas Cooper Gotch, 1910.

"A bientot" = "see you soon"


Saturday, December 12, 2015


What a pretty pram, my dear, so fey and queer and quiet--
Emptiness so elegant I feel compelled to buy it

And fill it full of roses, dear, their heads cut clean and slanted
At each stem like diadems of royalty recanted.

I'll roll them 'neath a crescent moon, my dear to soothe your sorrow--
To plant again by Gypsy men I'll hire for gold tomorrow.

For Kerry's micro-poetry challenge at Real Toads.

This is the first poem written in my gorgeous new journal given to me by Hedgewitch. 

Thursday, December 10, 2015

My Love & I

Here is your church,
the one you threw us out of, my love and I--
with its pews like boxes
holding captive monkeys forbidden the fez.

Organ grinder, 
create a distraction while we rob, my love and I,
this financial institution with its tellers
become oracles inspired by vapors and pride.

On the beach, 
discarded gods half-heartedly deal tired goddesses--
they use their umbrellas for bicycle wheels,
spinning like starfish back to the sea.

My love and I,
we are dual queens in the card game of time,
clocks and mattress ticking
the only clouds we allow, fiats from the feathers of talking birds.

What does it mean,
you'll ask between mouthfuls
of the stew we serve from peat bog and nightmare--
what does it mean? It means-- go back to your church; die there.

Have chattered your benediction from the primate pulpit
while my love and I spend your money
with Cpl. Jesus in a sidecar
down some sunny, narrow street you'll never find.


Saturday, December 5, 2015

2 Reasons

There are two reasons why I love you,
one why I don't.

1. The things you say. You're a silver-tongued devil, such a testament talker.

2. The sight of you spills me, inside of myself. I overbalance, warmly.

And the other?

1. Someone killed us both, but we got up again, hipsway walkers--

One proud, one guilty.

A flash 55 for the cauldron of the fearsome and powerfully magical Hedgewitch at Real Toads.

Friday, December 4, 2015

Buy Curious

Your heart is held in a rose's petals--
a ghost holds the past in an empty room;
You ask me to speak what the cards reveal--
your life laid out in pasteboard cartoons.

Go home.
Ask someone to smack you, hard.
Or stay, but it's gonna cost you, sister,
to move my hand from the back of the card.

For Words Count with Mama Zen.


Thursday, December 3, 2015

Between Angels and Elephants

Between angels and elephants,
sparrows atop the tent poles
and tigers on two-foot stools,

is the acrobat.
Not bird, nor magician,
she starts in sawdust,
but circuses have ladders.

Every act involves a first time
and a thousandth.
Smell the blood and popcorn;
believe it matters what you do--

the merest sparrow is one part angel;
women and tigers...two.

Exactly sixty words for Mama Zen's "Words Count."

Image: "Circus Girl Smokes While Rehearsing Her Stunts", Nina Leen 1949. 

The picture made me think of the film Wings Of Desire ("Der Himmel Uber Berlin") in which two angels wander post-war Berlin. One of them falls in love with a circus trapeze artist, and wishes to become mortal so that they can be together. Because of copyright restrictions, I can't post the trailer on the blog, and so I provide a link HERE. It will open in a new window, so you don't have to leave this page in order to view it.