Posts for June 27, 2022



To play dissolution on repeat,
a record scratch on a life unwinding,
something like sorrow stains empty pages,
tinges potential with words tainted
in dead ends, sentences
how many faces have slipped beneath
these suffocating heat waves?
Figures writhe beneath blacktop,
outlines of hands lash outward,
futility enshrined,
and it feels like we’re all treading water
and it feels like I’m just treading water.



Rain, rain come today.
Ground is dry –  it needs a drink.
The sun is hot and heats the earth.

Rain, rain come today.
Look to the sky and ask,
Why don’t the clouds cry?

Rain, rain come today.
The flowers, and the trees,
Need water to grow and to survive.

Rain, rain come today.
Grass is brown all around.
I pray it comes to keep the plants alive.


I did not teach my daughter to fall

When I was pregnant, 
I read that if I told you
Don’t climb that or 
don’t jump there 
because you’ll fall,
then you would only hear fall 
and subsequently fall.
I never said it,
never telegraphed that message, 
and you grew up fearless, 
living on the kitchen counter,
bouncing from coffee table to couch to chair.
So, when I warn you now
delete any digital period tracker you keep,
I do not mean it as an act of surrender
but of girding yourself,
my fearless one,
for what is to come.


Wedgewood Blue

The thing about wedgewood blue
Is that it is a blue of the oddest sort
Not blue or gray, one could say

That blue looked fine on the restaurant
Perched there on the banks beside the river
Amidst green grasses and short bushy shrub

A blue whose sister is the blue heron
Wafting gracefully, gliding down
through the air in the early morning light
To rest there on the river bank

That crisp morning light
A soft wedgewood blue sky
Adorns the side of the old clapboard restaurant
The great wings of the heron open to the sky
Leaves the river ever moving


Because It’s All He Knows

The mockingbird
his entire world


‘Fever’ ~ The Night We Saw Peggy Lee

Hard enough to shine by your side
Let alone paint with words your wit and stride
How could anyone paint the Martinelli?
The one in black tights, tux and flat belly
Would I start with your fingers or toes?
Or maybe your perfectly chiseled plastic surgeon nose
What about your silver bangled hand?
Covered in ballpoint penned notes never sun tanned
Shall I mention your black Audrey Hepburn Tiffany fur rimmed hat?
Your Chinese over-sized smoking jacket ~ sleeves painted with Siamese cat
You jingled and jangled long after you left with many a poignant point
Impatiently hanging on the tip of your tongue or swinging passionately on your wrist joint
To your fencing sharp wit
Most all had a fit
Of course always appropriately dear . . .
No one else could ever come near

I want to talk about you ~ the one I knew
And a memorable Peggy Lee night
With a legend so dear and nothing severe
It was a step-back in time an evening sublime in an intimate Fairmont lounge
You knew almost all the words
Songs that torched the war in the ‘40’s
Miss Lee came out solo on a low-spot stage
She was sultry and sexy and didn’t show her age
When she opened the show with FEVER the crowd was a hush

We never knew how much she loved us
We never knew how much she cared
When she put her arms around us
There was a FEVER that was hard to bear

Candles on each table filled the room with a low-glow flicker
As the legend icon sat at the mike still givin’ us a genuine kicker

In the midst of amazing history we over heard Dad shyly whisper, “That’s my Baby!”

Of course he remembered her
Singing with Goodman
Even hugging her back stage
Framing her Treasure Island autograph from the 1939 World’s Fair

Can’t remember what iconic outfit Martinelli you wore to this memorable event
It wasn’t something you usually created a piece of art that made a big dent
I can’t even find a photo of this incredibly surreal night
Yet it burns an indelible fever in my soul with all its’ might




I hope you know

There’s a niche

That folded over

A book-eared page

Marking a wrinkle in the seam

A particular coordinate 

Of whatever and however

Time’s existing on all planes

Somewhere just for us.

If I fade away before you

I promise to always

Be waiting

Look for me

Past the pay-phone booth,

by the vending machines.




In retrospect,

the one you met wasn’t me yet.
Sorry to lead you on like that.
I didn’t expect you to leave so suddenly,
but I’ll be sure to re-introduce myself
next time I see you.
Hang tight.



in the middle of the day
with everyone around
the music is playing
some song that’s touched
through the thoughts
of all of us and 
we’re just listening
going somewhere else
that is when I know
we’re all doing okay
for the moment
gliding down the road
full and sleepy
with no one else
that matters
outside the four doors



lies loud and brazen
truth among ripples
start making waves

-Sue Neufarth Howard