A 7 Line Poem

There was a wall made entirely of glass, and a bird with a tether on its leg. 

There was you, in your olive raincoat, and a sky of grandfathers, complaining.

There were lilacs, dogwood blossoms, a wrought iron screen hung from a fence peg.

It was April in the finest chill of dusk, a Wednesday with an hour's light remaining.

There were angles to the gables, to the downspout, and the feeling beyond naming

That I carried in a Gladstone bag kept hidden with the gewgaws

Preserved and cared for like that bird, to rise toward home when he does.

________

linked to dverse oln.

El Lobo Herido

 

Injury requires solitude

for the blood to slow.

Cold water soothes the throb

and so he walks the river bed.

His belly is empty as the sky

but turns over sickly,

his body's shock at violation.

Up, through the grasses, silently.

He will stay here, concealed

on his side, panting.

Licking the wound, resting

he will either heal or not--live or not--

the same as any other day he has known.

_________

for Sunday Muse #166.

Re: Staircase

 

STOP ALL WORK IMMEDIATELY PLEASE READ AND COMPLY

• City building permit not obtained/posted. 
• only union certified workmen may be hired for your project.
• project (decorative stairs) is not uniform. All risers must be level. Tripping hazards will be cited. 
• hand rails are required as per city safety regulations
• construction in unzoned areas must be approved by board
• all noxious plants, weeds, and unmown grasses must be removed. After six (6) months, the city will intervene and the cost added to your taxes
• proof of residence/authority to alter property must be presented. See Table B for necessary documents. 
• stairs to nowhere in a bunch of trees. really? 
• wtf is your problem?
• wtf is wrong with you?
• please correct these issues no later than ten (10) days after receipt of this notice. Failure to do so will result in fines, forfeiture of lands, and/or public hanging.
• Have a nice day!

CITY OF DUCKBURG DEPARTMENT OF DEEDS & RECORDS, COMPLIANCE DIVISION, DEPARTMENT OF REDUNDANCY DEPARTMENT.

-----------

for Sunday Muse #132.

Floral Arrangement

When time has come for me to rot,
forget forget-me-nots.

Place touch-me-nots upon my grave--
no rose, nor lily, nor daisy;
and dig it far from madding crowd--
the loud, the false, the crazy.

Say few words, if any you must--
and lace them through with laughter
that unrepentant madmen know--
then silence ever after. 
______

A flash 55 for my BFF's weekly bacchanal. 

 

A Spiny Demon

A spiny demon fell out of the chandelier and into my decolletage,
just as the aperitifs were being served.
There is only one thing for a lady to do when this happens,
and so I went to the kitchen and boiled him in a pot
like an artichoke.

The chef in his toque
and his staff in their amazement
gaped at me for crossing an unspoken boundary line,
but I was raised by wolves
and educated at Smith--
I can snarl with accent or without.

By this time I could see the spiny demon's breath,
though it may have been steam,
or just hot air.
Concerned for my manicure,
I plucked him from his impromptu bath with tongs,
and demanded to know if he had come
to try to collect my soul.

He clammed up, so I went next door,
holding him gingerly by the tail,
into the neighbor's house,
the Land That Time Forgot,
and played stoopball with him against the inside stairs.
I used a Babolat racket
and a wicked serve to make him talk.

Borrowing the jack from someone's Audi,
I opened his gob and got the truth out of him.
He had been spitting night into my stellar disposition,
while I slept,
innocent as a kitten.
I stashed his loathsome spiny self in the dishwasher
and, departing the neighbor's house,
I kicked off my Jimmy Choos, letting my bare feet sink into the wet grass.

The sun was coming up,
as yellow as a taxi cab,
so I started all over, despite my age, and despite convention.
What the hell, Bo Peep, I said to myself,
live a little, bring down a moose,
win a Pulitzer,
get a girlfriend.
Why not?
________

for mag 228

XXXmas

 
I am a cadaverous catastrophe of a girl,
with no credential other than a pulse and a willingness to shuck and jive,
reel 'em in and spit 'em back out,
a lady with a degree in gossip and doubletalk.

Yes, I am what is vulgarly referred to as a seasonal employee.

Look, you need this shit here.
These gadgets piled to the rafters are not just amusements--
they are the natural exclamation point to your whisper of a life,
a lavish, lopsided, overpriced carnival of crapola 
designed to wake you the fuck up
and make your spouse and brats think you're some kind of hot shit like they used to do.

Here, check out this asshole of a doll.
She has natural blonde hair down to her little plastic shoes,
and she is in a veritable frenzy of eagerness to be your BFF and bestie.
She talks all sorts of irrational bipolar bullshit,
and possesses an internal system of hydraulics which enable her to binge and purge like a teenage actress.

Every useless-ass oddity you can imagine, we've got it right here.
We take out full page ads in the Sunday paper, on line 
and on a glossy fold-out in the middle of your bible;
we crow about it from billboards and it's written on my hat as well.
We have a full staff of madmen locked up in the cellar, coming up with copy.
Buy this shit! Now! Oh man, I love Christmas.

Aw, Pookie, I can see that you're overwhelmed.
Come over here, let me cram you in a cubby and spout soothing silliness.
I'll spritz you with calming scents--
let's get your chi as smooth as my counter top.
That gibbering lunacy coming out of your pie hole is solid gold, babe;
best sellers and Oprah book club selections have been built on less.
Let me write it all down with devilish dedication!
I'm prepared to really earn my nine bucks an hour,
and when this is over I can go back to scribbling goth poetry in the coffee shop.

As for you,
you can remember my help forever
and mate feverishly with all this junk you bought!
________

a short tour of the seasonal asylum for Get Listed at Real Toads. I used all 23 words; only three were burned out from last year!