8.25.2016

The Big Picture

Peeking
thru sigh-lenses
blurs edges
convexes centers
like funhouse mirrors
bloated without context
It would be kinder
taking the long view
belonging
as you
photogenically
despite protestations do
Maybe try
a wide angle lens

Music day in the Imaginary Garden: LITTLE TINY by Brandi Ediss

8.22.2016

Hoodie Heart

Child:
Chilly,
I pulled on
your blue sweatshirt.
Zipped up, it fit well!
I wish I could capture
forever your reaction,
beaming at me, recognizing
yourself in grown-up me,
           your mother
beaming back at you,
           wishing this would last.

Late entry for Kerry’s Micro-Poetry prompt in The Garden.

8.15.2016

Bobby the Lip

All day Facebook admonished me to help celebrate my friend Robert Lipton’s birthday, so I share this poem written in his memory. It was published in Silkworm, the annual review of Florence Poets Society, last year.

Sharing this makes me think about a lot of things, including (1) I wrote a poem with a word I can barely pronounce (paean) in Bob's honor (guffaw), (2) I hear his words in my head "Death, the great poetry prompt" as I listen to this, and (3) I miss Bob.


I pulled this fortune
the day you died:
  What is the distance
  between the eyes and the soul?
You know the answer.
How did you learn to pronounce
the hard words, which goddesses
are whom, the rhythm of line breaks?
We all listened. Did you know?
Your paean to women made me wish
such words were strung together
and hung on my limbs.
Now you travel that distance,
somehow we expect you to report back.
We will miss your soul, your lip.

8.09.2016

Adumbration

When a space opens
in your heart
myriad soul-squatters

rush to occupy
Sorrow’s muse deploys
a kitten-topped roomba

spreading distraction
to every corner
No room for reflecting

when every imagining
is an exercise
in deft deflection

Hiding in shadows
real memories hole up
joined by assessments

in emotional siege
It’s no wonder
you are easily convinced

of an alternate world
with dusk-brimmed battles
waged behind your eyes


Read & share poetry today at The Tuesday Platform in the Imaginary Garden!

8.04.2016

On Holiday

Blue
looks good
on summer
unplanned sorrow
twining like garland
round the solidest pine
deciduously backward
engorged with acid-twinkly light
whitewashed birdbath needs little water
in end times no one sings Christmas carols

7.19.2016

Summer 2016, Encapsulated

No poems today
no reflection
on how light
inevitably
follows darkness
how the sky feels
how a body opens
like a flower
how I love you
no words
though still true
it does
I do

7.08.2016

Untitled, July 2016

word

of the day
week
lifetime
generation

toxic

country
world
thoughts
society

hearts

7.02.2016

Athena Shakes Her Head

There’s a throne
in this morning’s clouds
from which I imagine
Athena observes
skirmishes with no purpose
olive trees rot roots up
war with no end
She knows
there’s no slowing this march
no wings can lift us
above inevitable despair
The mind of God is blank
and no blue remains
even above the clouds

6.19.2016

On the Nature of Air

We breathe
the same air
cologne & sweat
rippling-round
til fear seeps in
adrenaline
blood & death
horror
despair
in the end
we breathe sweet air

*Monday note: I've edited this and like this version much better!
 

Kerry called for short poems on the subject of Death and Night. This is also responsive to Izy’s prompt to write from a recently received text message (my first line here).

6.13.2016

Nice Cage

Am thrilled to have a poem in the inaugural issue of Nice Cage, a new, gorgeous, very cool literary magazine. Fairly prescient that the issue's theme is Predator/Prey and the magazine's tagline is "Enjoy Being Human." It's awesome to be published alongside comrades Kerry O'Connor, W.K. Kortas, and many others excitingly new to me. Hearty congratulations and thanks to editor and co-founder Isadora Gruye.
Take a look: Nice Cage

6.12.2016

For My Husband on His 40th Birthday

I’m thinking
of demanding spousal rights
to your gallbladder
when the surgeon takes it out,
bringing it home in my purse,
one stone for an earring,
one stashed
in the locket you gave me,
the last one under my pillow
for dreamkeeping,
your name bile-tattooed
across my heart,
flesh of the precious organ
buried deep in the dirt
of the old angel-wing begonia
that’s flowered our marriage,
spindly reaching for the sun.

6.05.2016

Except the Memory of You

Sometimes I feel like
some sad old goddamn song
that everyone knows the words to
but just won’t sing along

        --Charlie Chesterman, "Mister Blue"

Laughing girl
tugs her beater over her belly
overshares
earns a stage shout-out
is easily amused
seemingly cheerful
like baby’s breath
in a carnation bouquet

She is rain on Sunday
bag of kittens in the river
calliope
last call banjo
at Nico’s Recovery Room
stumbling down Highland Ave
three flights up
to an empty bed


Flash 55 for Real Toads!

5.31.2016

This Is All Leda's Fault

Bask
in the marvelous
incongruity of May
with her rages
and jewels
joys
mixed with catastrophe
She is a rare gift
nonpareil
cream
on hemorrhaged lips
taciturn yet stylish
blue
irresistible
syncopated and swanlike
Best make tracks
or tumble headlong
maybe both

(OOAK ART doll by Lina Macijauskiene.)

I learned about the fantastic art dolls of Lithuanian artist Lina Macijauskiene from my friend Jori, who owns the one in this photograph. Isn’t this doll wonderful? I love her.

More dolls at Lina Macijauskiene’s Etsy store: LinaMacijauskieneART
Jori’s cool blog: Shivers of Delight

Sharing this at the Tuesday Platform in the Imaginary Garden.

P.S. I turned FIFTY on Sunday. What!?!

5.25.2016

My Grandmother Would Have Been 106 Today



Happy Birthday to my grandmother,
Anne Gilmore Stewart!


My new book, Heart Container, is dedicated to my grandmother:

5.23.2016

The Color of Goodbye

The happy chartreuse
of early spring on Mt. Tom
I missed this year
while not paying attention.

Your moan
yearning forward in many shades
of red, then blue,
then bloodiest-red again.

Everything vaguely
distressed Polaroid
through rose sunglasses.

Mourning doves,
oatmeal with honey,
when your eyes look green.

Sharing with The Tuesday Platform in the Imaginary Garden today.

5.19.2016

Bardo

Presented
with the chance
of losing you
memory bows
to tragination
rattles
hysteria’s gate
dons
a death shroud
while preparing
a fat-free meal

5.09.2016

Rose & Hydrangea




Mother's Day.

5.03.2016

Advice (Not Really)

Feeling sad?
Write a poem!
   (if only
inspiration
came so
    if always
the spirit
moved melancholy
right-brain
manufacturing hay)

Sharing with the Real Toads on The Tuesday Platform. May Tuesday!

5.02.2016

The Roar Sessions

Tickled & quite humbled that a little missive by yours truly is included in the tremendous cacophony that is THE ROAR SESSIONS, curated by Poet, Promptress, & Coach Jena Schwartz. Read it here:
"The Roar Sessions: Using My Words" by Marian Kent

4.26.2016

Formerly & 4-Ever

The artist
who really knew how to ball
slammed his last dunk
posthumously orchestrating
an exultant wave
of humanity
slanging it all skyward
looney-tunes constellations
raining his name earthward
while we
continue marveling
on the free throw line
at the exquisite contradiction
our petite giant
of arrogant humility
bestowed upon us
with purpose and accidentally
stumbling it all back home

Sharing in the Imaginary Garden today.