Rocks
Bourbon by blue light,
Productive working at night.
Like my workspace neat.
My last brush with an MLM
(wait for it…)
(I prefer my puns intended)
Was an acquaintance from high school pushing shampoo from her Facebook page.
I bought some (duh),
but it had two major problems.
One, it smelled like cat pee.
Two, it smelled like old carrots.
I used it for months thanks to my fancy new
Guilt Complex
(It’s 49.99 right now with Auto-Ship!! Just mix it in with your normal beverage and go! 😍😱👀🙌)
that makes me think even mundane decisions
are irreversible.
But today,
I changed my shampoo.
Because I had a revelation:
All this hair I’m washing is dead anyway.
The least it can do is smell good.
Pine Mountain Cemetery XVI
Doris May
Born with a silver spoon is not a
Guarantee life will be full or sweet.
Doris May left the womb in a gloom
Never giving out that pinkish baby bloom.
All the necessary pieces were there,
Nice home, good folks, pretty dolls .
Small for her age and never grew much
Past it, but enough, not stunted, not an elf.
She just stood shorter than the rest of them.
Hair mousy, complexion sallow, humor sour.
Smart enough, made good grades, ambition
Never quite hit the mark, no beaus to speak of.
Funny thing she really liked people, what they
Were doing, who they knew, where they went.
The town gossip knew far less than she.
Who married who, where they were, the next
Party planned, who was broke, estranged.
She knew it all, told some, but mostly kept it.
Might think her life plain, unremarkable, ordinary.
You would be as off the mark if the sight was bent.
There was a secret buried under all that brown.
She lost her heart and head to a man who didn’t care.
He loved them all, laughed his way and left them
Smiling, all but Doris May. Smiles for her, too rare.
There’s more to the story, but why tell now. Best
To let what’s past lie there under all that moss
Untold, held close by that brave, small soul.
Mothers, tell your boys broken hearts leave
Traces beyond their ken. Toy with the giddy ones
Leave shyer girls their quieter safe devices.
Doris May, Doris May sing the saddest song
Unlived, alone, bereft of all that looks so shiny.
Folks smiled her way, gave a nod, went afar.
Would they if given one more chance reach
For the little brown wren, make her smile,
Bring her in, love her dear?
little girl riding her bike
passenger seat for the doll
the doll is wearing a helmet, too
little brother cycles with swagger
his black helmet with orange spikes
is a mohawk of flames
sunny day
a world away
from the news
the real thing
gave me plenty of practice to pull from.
i play dumb
and i act scared
but i know exactly what you’re doing.
i’ve had
my guts and my teeth
fall out and rearranged.
tip the bottle
just to open to your touch.
manipulation is just a little magic-
who do you think taught you these tricks?
we are well-behaved in public
while waging a secret war.
The test shall evaluate
and indicate status.
status true
and status false
are separate.
No options
shall be supported.
False cannot be resolved.
True has its flag set.
test shall evaluate
the symbolic.
These primaries can be combined:
True is false. False is true.
Objections were raised that
the real problem is misuse
of the test command,
but there was no easy way
to determine meaning.
—
Found poem (erasure) from the Linux Man Pages
Complete text at:
https://man7.org/linux/man-pages/man1/test.1p.html
Invisible waves of the moon cause the tender
chamber of a bay oyster to undulate like a gauzy
ruffle. When I sing low to my hollyhocks
their wooly stems & satiny petals
stretch faster & further. My voice
drifts into an orange burst of petals
& the pale yellow stamen shakes off
specks of pollen. Today at the pancake cafe
I confessed to Paula in-between coffee warm-ups
& syrupy platters as she worked the breakfast
rush, stopping briefly to catch
up with me as I polish off a short stack, one
egg over easy. Tears pulsated behind
my eyes like bantam hearts. Sorrow
finding a listener. I felt a variation in her body
as if the diction of my pain could swim
like a black-necked swan into her stride & gently
slacken her pace. In a shivering spectrum
I can’t hear or see & like buried roots
intertwined, we briefly harmonize.
Guitar string. Piano key.
This old place has a soul, a ghost
a home-rich-haunted feel
the old dog down the road must be napping
he’s awful danged quiet
when the young woman comes riding up the road
on a horse with a radio strapped across its back
booming and thumping
some Jason Aldean song
This little strip of country road
where my heart beats deep
the stories I grew up with
now get older with me
where the waters got fat with violence
and yanked away the banks in parts and patches
Big dogs bark
the old rooster can’t read the sunset
crows with pride, telling the world good morning
after we’ve all had supper already
evening walks have become a quiet rhythm
to our lived in lives
commenting on the big chunks of road
that the old creek has eaten up
after one flood or another
remarking over the dead trees
with fresh sprouts
of green growing on them
We walked down the road last night
tying together the stillness
of a long drawn out moment
where the tall weeds
and tangle of roots hold
this carved from old broken road reality
Strange things and a settled life
beating to a heartbeat tune
of a different kind of living song
where a young woman rides horseback
and the rich details of a lived in slice of road
finds its summer sturdy rhythm
even in these odd days
of cold breezes and strange weather
it’s like walking into a painting
Everyone experiences love at one point or another,
Everyone makes the mistake of loving the wrong person,
Love is a part of being human,
It’s what gives us our humanity,
We can love multiple people,
We can only be capable of loving only one,
Love is something that makes life truly worth living,
Finding it in someone else will lead to heartbreak,
It’ll cause a pain that never fades,
That never heals,
Find love in yourself,
Love who you are first,
Then maybe the person you truly love will come back,
Or the person destined for you will make themselves known
After so many sad souls
died alone in hospitals
with Covid-19
Thought I’d get my affairs
in order
After all am at high risk
to get the Rona
My girls live out of state
No kin in Kentucky
Wanted to ease the load
of handling things for them.
Had to handle my mom’s
my brother-in-law and my
husband’s estates.
It’s no easy task when you’re
grieving so bad
Wanted to lighten the load.
Sent them both detailed emails.
Got-no response…
They didn’t want to Even…
