Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.
Showing posts with label soft sell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label soft sell. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 7, 2024

Safe House

 

Welcome to the safe house.
No one will find you here.

The ambulance is like a big rolling cotton ball, isn't it?
The siren has been modified to sound like a waterfall.

Please do not share this location with spouses or children--yours or not.   
Their tread on the white front steps would jar the keyboard of your recovery.

Meet helpers Jenny and George in their clean gray smocks. 
Yes, it's hard to tell which is which!
Many guests forget them even as they stand there smiling. 

In the parlor we have an electric fireplace
and framed Kincades on the eggshell walls.

We ask that you leave your red hats and rainbows with Susie at the door.
A few teensy tiny rules:
no weapons
no newspapers
no Facebook
no over-exertion
no stimulants
no sex
no drama
no poetry.

In a week or two, the nightmares should stop,
along with any disquieting longings or regrets. 

Non-attachment is our way.
You may even levitate, like a balloon.

If you get confused, just follow the white tape on the beige tile.
It can be difficult--even for staff! --to tell the bedrooms from the morgue.
_________

for What's Going On? "Safe". 

Music: the Pretenders Every Day Is Like Sunday




The Word Garden Word List is still HERE through Sunday! 

 




Monday, November 29, 2021

Dr. Morphia


A doctor was sent for the season
called counterfeit by
summer's heart.
No use in the cure, or the reason
that shadows and rings
keep apart
from the cure that coils in the foyer
of the house that love recommends
to the moon and its lilies who crave for
the stitches that wound
as they mend. 

The doctor prescribes herself autumn
and waits for ice to inscribe
a vow to be broken at midnight
by the needle
disguised as a bride
and when the old brag fades to nothing
and the peacocks their colors remove
the idiot winter with moon lilies wins her
with remedies
borrowed
and blue.
_________


Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Entre Nous, George....

George Tooker self portrait
Oh, don't look so stunned,
as if God had unfriended you.
Just keep tying your sweater arms around your shoulders like that,
and the right man will come through.

Now let's talk about your barber.
Either grow it out or shave, but not this.
You're more Paris than Parris Island, and that fivehead, oh my.
So wrong. So remiss.

Get that shell. It's for you!
It's Clara Bow calling, she wants her lips back.
Here's a drapery, wrap it around that tree trunk as an ascot.
You're welcome. 
My lips are sealed;
I'm the very soul of tact.
_______ 

For mag 289.