Caitlyn unlatched the picket gate and stepped gingerly into the small front yard. She hesitated at the concrete walkway before mounting the steps to the tiny bungalow. The garden was opulent, blooming roses lined the sunny fence, dark blue hydrangeas flourished in the shade of the porch. But the house’s paint was peeling and the … Continue reading Work To Do
Written with my Thursday night group with the prompts: Zelda is in heat, until next time, tomatoes in the front yard, tell me what you want, straight faced, remember when, professional, phone store, old stale coffee, my turn, mysterious holes, in Russia, mosquitos, mask maker’s daughter Zelda sat on the porch in the heat of … Continue reading The Mask Maker’s Daughter
I posted this poem just a few years ago. But I like it, so I'm going to finish April with it. Enjoy! St. Jude showed up at my door today with a little package tightly wrapped in pale blue paper, adorned with a large clump of curled white ribbon (he’d obviously had it wrapped at … Continue reading Goose Girl
A story poem I wrote a long time ago. #NationalPoetryMonth Love, Our Subject In the multitude of cells now stretching and dividing In my womb I carry the genetic memories of my grandmother, running from her mountain cabin in the snow when her husband confessed his infidelity. Her shoes were not good; the slush soaked … Continue reading Love, Our Subject
For Saint Patrick’s Day, I thought I would share a reprint of a favorite post, relating a bit of Irish history (sometimes called mythology). This poem tells the story of Patrick’s encounter with a poet named Oisin. Oisin (pronounced O-sheen) was the son of Finn MacUail (pronounced M’Cool) who was a great warrior. Oisin was … Continue reading Oisin and Patrick
(with thanks to Paul Simon on Brigid’s midwinter feast day) The prompt was to write a poem inspired by a song, and so I did. Midway between the winter solstice and the shush of an espresso machine I stand hypnotized by the sound of water dripping, my feet shifting on sticky linoleum. The tule fog … Continue reading The Roots of Rhythm
Written with my Thursday night group with the prompts: strange person in your bed again; driving a taxi; cat suit; interesting way to make a living; letter to human friend; faces of dead men filter through his brain like sunrise; first day of 3rd grade; write about what you don’t know about what you know; … Continue reading Meredith and the Cheetah
Jason came up out of the subway on Tuesday when there was a break in the storm to busk in the space between the Dunkin’ Donuts and the bus stop. He came equipped with a borrowed guitar, his own harmonica, and a smashed brown fedora he’d owned for decades. He called it his magic hat: … Continue reading Morning Song
Written with my Thursday night writing group with the prompts: beautiful Melvina, giggles again, untethered soul, gardenias in hair, watching cartoons, unremarkable bone, human life will flicker out, when I think of returning to my mother, when I look in my mother’s eyes, quirky details, go ahead and pat me down, she sort of smiled, … Continue reading Beautiful Melvina
Mama’s family never could afford to send her to college. From as far back as I can remember, she promised it would be different for me. “You are smart and you are beautiful,” she’d tell me. “You are going to go far.” Of course I believed her. Why wouldn’t I? I didn’t know it cost … Continue reading Manna
