Archive for July 2012

“Of the Stash Amassed by James Holmes”

July 24, 2012

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Of the Stash Amassed by James Holmes

I’m told
a lot of people
buy bullets in bulk, like
to store them up.

“I call,” said Dudley Brown, executive director
of Rocky Mountain Gun Owners,
“6,000 rounds of ammunition
running low.”

The words trigger
crouching low
(beneath seats),
laying low
(beneath desks),
pushed below
(a protective
other’s suddenly
dead weight).

The bulks
of torsos sag
rushed out, people not meant
to store bullets.
Heads bowed, running low, those
trying to save them.

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I post the above for dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night.  Check out dVerse for wonderful poetry.

Sky Frog

July 22, 2012

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Unedited, untouched, uncaught.

“Blackberrying” (With Pics)

July 21, 2012

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Blackberrying

In a daze of phosphorescent moss,
we make our way across rockbed, log and stalk,
to a field that’s sharply girded against loss
where nettle, thorn, and briar edge our walk.
Our eyes bore in on any sign of sheen,
a glisten beneath a leaf, a garnet chain.
They’re hard to see at first, then like a dream
we find them here and there and there again.
First scrapes sting, branches fiercely snag skin
of wrist, arm, shin, dogged to defend their own.
We reach around, above, even step within
thickets transformed to some more personal zone.
Not even tasting now, nor caring for prickers,
we feel ripeness alone, we blackberry pickers.

 
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Here’s a sonnet for dVerse Poetics Pub anniversary poetics challenge, hosted by the wonderful Claudia Schoenfeld, on “process” and also for “With Real Toads.”   Blackberrying is one of my favorite processes on earth.
 
Have a great weekend. Check out dVerse and, if you have time, my books! They are fun! Children’s counting book 1 Mississippi -for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, Going on Somewhere, poetry, or Nose Dive, a very fun novel that is perfect for a pool or beachside escape.

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Hell, “A Different Level” – Thinking of Aurora

July 21, 2012

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A different level

I.

Hell is a clock
that cannot be
turned back.

II.

Hell is discovering
that your most special,
coveted,
dear, one
and only,
purpose,
culmination,
all,
can be culled
randomly,
gone
in an instant,
wrong
seat/street/virus
crazed/gun
forever.

III.

Hell is not
being able to take
the bullet for them;
hell is having to
swallow the bullet for
yourself
after it’s hit.

IV.

Hell is knowing
too late
how fast
it all was.

V.

Hell is
firsthand.

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Mourning the terrible event in Aurora, Colorado. This led me to the above draft poem, linked to the wonderful poets at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, a discussion of hell. Ridiculous to think of prompts with events like these, but it was somehow a way to write about these awful things. One worries that these things come across as pretentious; I mean to write only with sympathy and sorrow.

I am also linking this to Tess Kincaid’s wonderful Magpie Tales, where she happened to put up a picture prompt of Franz Kline’s Figure 8, which seemed also to fit with this poem.

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“Spined” – Flash Fiction 55

July 20, 2012

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Spined

The sweetest part, he said, jamming the core across her clenched lips/teeth; I’m telling you to try it, and, when she stuck out her tongue, slapped her.

You’re only hurting yourself.

As she tasted sting over blood, even over pineapple, she couldn’t quite believe that, and would not, she swore, even if she could.

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Yes, I know this is both a bummer and a bit out of character, and I almost hate to tell it to the G-Man because I like Fridays to be more cheerful, but it is 55 words, and part of a larger story, and well, all I could come up with today.

DO have a nice weekend! (And sorry, and thanks.)

dVerse Poets Pub Anniversary – Best Poem?

July 19, 2012

dVerse Poets Pub is celebrating its first anniversary this week and asks all participating poets (a group which includes lucky me) to link up what they feel was their best poem posted to dVerse over the past year.

Figuring out one’s best poem is always tricky.  I don’t know if this one is “best”, but it is a poem that is close to my heart.  It was written for a very good friend of mine, approximately two years ago, in the couple of weeks before her death from breast cancer.   She had expressed to me her concern for her children, and I wrote the poem based upon her words.

The poem is a pantoum – a form with repeating lines.  And punctuation (sigh) is a fairly important element.  I may not have punctuated right, so I recommend listening to the recording really more than reading.  It is a pretty simple poem to follow.

Thanks so much!  And thanks to dVerse Poets – Brian Miller and Claudia Schoenfeld, especially.

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The Last Thing – Mother to Child

The Last Thing –  Mother To Child

For Rhona Saffer
Know, that
when I must go,
I will love you
just the same.

When I must go,
I know it will not feel
just the same.
There will be cool air—

I know it will not feel
like my lips—
but there will be cool air
caressing your face

like my lips,
while your smile only,
caressing your face
(oh reflection of mine),

will be your smile only.
I never wanted to cause you pain,
oh reflection of mine.
That was the last thing

I ever wanted to cause you–pain.
No, I would love you—
that was the last thing.
Just the same,

know, I would love you,
will love you,
just the same.
Know that.

 

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One Tip To/Of Manhattan

July 18, 2012

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