Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Friday, December 2, 2022

A Man

 

A man of some note,
wearing the planets on a chain
said,
'I can't swing a cat without hitting
a faggot or a 
whore
or a
sinner of some variety."

The birds inside my throat stayed silent
but I could feel
their wings
flutter.
I turned my shoulders to July noon
as a favor
to such small, light riders. 

A man of great learning,
with entire
alphabets lined up on the 
tip of his tongue,
kept them all like pets
and taught
each one
to balance prettily on a circus ball
while he went at them hammer and tongs
to no purpose.

Three times that season,
my eyes
became eggs
and fell to my 
throat/
nest.
Finally, flocks flew filigree patterns
all around 
my head
and a man said, "Harlot! Sapphist!"
and a man said, "Anarchist! Libertine!"
but I was an 
aviary/
melody
beyond such puny mewlings.


Thursday, December 1, 2022

On The Way Home From Finishing School

 

On her way home through a deep dark wood, after studying rhyme and meter, what do you suppose should greet her but a big burly black bear. 

"You are in my woods," said the bear, "and I don't know if I should eat you or lick you."

Hands behind her back, the girl replied, "You are a very burly bear, and I don't know if I should teach you or trick you."

The bear eyed her hidden hands and pointed out that "you could be holding a pistol or a picnic basket, a treat for us or a blunderbuss." 

The girl brought out her hands and the bear's eyes grew wide, his face funny.

Then the bear said, "Oh, honey..."
_______

A bit of fun for Thursday's Six Sentence Link-Up. The required word was "meter." A bit out of my m├ętier, I must say. ;-)

Music: The Bare Necessities



Wednesday, November 30, 2022

Word Garden Word List--Paige Ackerson-Kiely

 


Hello friends, and welcome to this week's Word Garden Word List. Hey listen, do you ever just take a chance on something because it sounds like it might be interesting? I know I have. Sometimes it's a dumpster fire, sometimes just a dud that doesn't do anything for me at all, but sometimes I find a new favorite song, dish, friend or whatever it may be. This week's words are all taken from a volume of poetry I bought a year ago or so, just because I liked the title: My Love Is A Dead Arctic Explorer by Paige Ackerson-Kiely. I just wish the content had been as interesting as the title, but as an old supervisor of mine used to say, "Eat the meat, spit out the bones." Therefore, that's exactly what we're going to do.


While I wasn't that keen on the poems--she seems to be about to dig into something important, then continually gets lost in dense language; moreover, there is so much alcohol in these poems that I could practically hear the ice cubes hitting the sides of the glass--she does make some very interesting word choices, and that's right up our alley, yes? (And I do need to add that occasionally she does make her point simply and strongly.)

I hope you'll enjoy this List. Please use at least 3 of the 20 words provided in a new original poem, then link up and visit others. Nothing to it but to do it! 

And now, your List!

Canada
candor
chalk
chime
conflated
describe
explorers
flocked
garlands
gruel
hymns
induce
oxygen
panic
tampering
touchdown
trolley
vanilla
vapor
windsock

Canada Heart


The chime of your kiss
Made me forget the chalk 
that marked the stitch-line
where madness
met easy charm.

I don't wear vanilla scent
anymore--it reminds me of
your flocked, bread-crumb skin
the braille I
got lost in.

Toronto has Billy Bishop Airport--
you can fly in,
fill a bag at the duty-free
then cab it
to Yonge Street.

We made love at the Double Tree
with a balcony
to waver on the edge of, after.
Oh, Canada--
Canada heart

is the half sweet, half bitter
half bustling,
half empty landscape where
missionaries say,
"I knew her."

That is where I found this poem, north of Yellowknife,
and south of solace not looked for anymore. 
_______

For Word Garden Word List--Paige Ackerson-Kiely

Music: Gordon Lightfoot Affair On 8th Avenue



Sunday, November 27, 2022

Self Portrait

 

There's someone in here,
inside my
skin,
someone Frankensteined
up from a girl
I used to be or
never was
or
someone on a greased slide
to the boneyard
(yep, that was
me)
but she got
off at
El Paso
sweet little woman get along.

See, I'm living for two 
now,
preggers with myself
and way
overdue
but we're cute af
in certain light
or in 
my imagination
or 
in the sight of God
with a 
heave
and a
ho
I just couldn't let her go.
_______




Tuesday, November 22, 2022

Stone House

 

There is a stone house
with a soft bed
on a metal frame.

The sheets are sky-stolen blue,
the blanket tartan.
I have the feeling I was

a child there, or died
or held someone with love
or was held.

The air is fragrant
like a meal just finished
or being prepared.

I feel sure that you are there
in the next room
or arriving or remembered.

I wrote this poem
yesterday or some other day
or will write it soon.

Now the door is open.
Come in.
_______

Music: Cat Stevens Into White



Saturday, November 19, 2022

Nurse to the Water

photo by Jeanloup Seiff

 I am nurse to the Water,
Moon in a bowl at its bedside.

It looks back at me as if to say, "I am here,
deep and permanent; I will always stay,"
but its language is Leaving and every movement
is a perpetual going-away. 

I am bride to the Lake Grass
expending itself in a season's rising.
silent and thin, the Water its artist's garret.
It finds me neither interesting nor surprising
as I see to its unbordered house,
my face a familiar detail that passes. 

Are you dying, Water, a Gypsy in love with sand--
the sand in love with and holding the Cattails?
I make my rounds on the wooden walkway,
Child of trees the Lake Grass envies.
Death beneath my feet, mercy at my hand
I am the Double-Spirit who must be her own comfort
and work by Night, the sister-ghost of Day.
________


Music: Roseanne Cash Seven Year Ache