Posts for June 22, 2023


The Ferris Wheel and The Younger Me

With stars in my eyes

I look up at the flashing lights

The Ferris wheel I’ve waited all year for

And suddenly I am 7 years old

Riding every ride with no fear

Eating funnel cakes and drinking lemonade

I have no responsibilities

Life is perfect, 

Oh what I would do to go back


PC Builder

there was a time

where technology

was still growing

and we believed

we could code our

way into this world

of reality

mixed with that place

we could only smell

through the heated plastic

whirring fans

of our made at home rigs


we saw the future

a vast cosmic forever

on black and green screens

over clocked video cards

a sleek cybernetic hope


I’m not sure what happened

but those dreams died

in the old machines

inside video game cartridges

jammed up in dormant

outdated code


we stopped dreaming

in a world of zeroes and ones

found dollar signs had blocked

our way through those peaks

of creative mathematics


so we die on the steps

at the feet

of what could be

holding tight to our

nostalgic moments

when we felt alive




Some days 
Like today 
When my body 
Doesn’t feel like it’s mine
My hang nails 
Have all been chewed
Down to their quick
My core is shakey
My brain is full 
Everything inside me 
Is completely rattled 
Everything aches
My bones brittle
Hair in disarray 
My eyes are heavy 
I succumb to the weight 
A nail biting hollowness 
That leaves me feeling 
Like a grade school kid’s scribbles
Crayon colored congestion
Straight in the center
Of my construction paper canvas
A hopeless display 
For all to see 
While the world mocks me
I bite off one more nail
And remind myself 
Its all in my head
“You got this!” 

Registration photo of Kiitan Adedeji for the LexPoMo 2023 Writing Challenge.

Self-Portrait as Someone Trying to Pronounce My Name

Key, as if she were gold-embroidered
the perfect fit for the doors
she was carried through
but a Key that is not welcome by all

Kuh, like little children learning
the sounds of consonants,
some say, Kuh, as C is for come
make a language you were not born into yours

Tawn, deep brown skin, exotic
she is here from another land
sharing the same dawn as us
pretending to make hers look the same

Kiitan, what a pretty name
a little strange though, isn’t it?


For Later

Maybe close to midnight after playing
Cards Against Humanity isn’t the best
time to write a poem.

My mind moving in all directions
forbidden pots opened up and stirred
swirling with laughter and impossible images,

a table full of jokes and remarks
some of which later, I’ll wish I’d written down
one more night of Hindman happiness

knowing the best poems will come
when I leave with my head and heart
filled up with this place.



I’ve filled myself to the brim with chili
I fold into a familiar spot on the front steps.
It’s been dark all day
The day after the solstice,
The sounds of cars on the wet street sound different from inside my echoey wooden box of an apartment, plastered floor to ceiling with stacks and boxes of rolled, leaning and hanging canvas.
I gaze around me at the green air, feeling drugged, holding a lit cigarette under my hand so it doesn’t get wet.
I feel so proud of my Miyazaki-worthy outfit today. Green and red frog socks, yellow sandals, pale pink jeans, avocado green and white-striped pocket shirt, burgundy, cream, and brown plaid overshirt.
It is a weirdly cold end of June, Goldie says,
He’s tickled he gets to wear his brown sweater, just about anytime it isn’t sticky out. A frousy bit of drab, stretched down several feet, pockets bulging with heavy packets of paper.
Between poetry and thickly buttered bread,
I’m halfway between here and somewhere
A few things give me a start as my eyes fall upon them-
A chore I started this morning and completely forgot about finishing
“Save ya later, Begonia”
I sure get into a churn
flushing away the day
Carrying strips of cardboard here and there
Drilling holes with a screwdriver
Folding the new tshirts for market
Seeing how many clean laundry cubes I can squeeeeeze into the dresser, it’s all in the arrangement.
I put off putting those away.
An infection spread into my lungs before I knew it and it’s kicked me in the chest
I’ve been on a hiatus
From coffee and cigarettes
For three days the world has been a different color.
Gazing into the neighbor’s lilies, I see The Kitten’s face under a big low hanging lily pad (It’s not a lily pad but I like to call it that, as that is what it resembles), she wears it like a hat, she sure is a Totoro.
Everytime I look back she’s still there, just her head sticking out enough to see.
Even though I haven’t been smoking much, plagued as I am with mucous,
I keep hanging out in the yard, admiring all the littlest and the biggest plant and stone and ant residents. Occasionally I walk in the wet grass, between stints of heavier drizzle.
Very suddenly it’s night again, it seems like it came so early.

Registration photo of Shaun Turner for the LexPoMo 2023 Writing Challenge.

Ars Poetica to the Blank Page

Another day, another symptom shows itself anon.

I imagine a cartoon sticker from my childhood: the Earth
sick, an old-school mercury thermometer dangling
out of its grimaced mouth–water bottle on its head. 
I promise I still have hope–a seed in my chest
I tend. It buds close to the loam of my swollen belly,
my body growing without medicine. I settle
into the corners of my apartment like creeper vine. 

If I can’t sew the world together with the tender
tendrils of my heart, at least I felt it there. I reckon
for all the corruption and grief, the hurt and fear,
there is the tender monochrome of text to hold me. 

Registration photo of Jazzy for the LexPoMo 2023 Writing Challenge.

Final Pick 

On the playground as a kid
Standing in a line
Waiting to hear your name for the basketball team

High school gym
Five names have been called
Will you be the sixth man on the basketball team?

Only 64 teams will make the NCAA Tournament
The team holds its collective breath
Will they make the big dance?

Tonight’s the NBA Draft
Should you stay home
Or wait in the Green Room
For your name to be called

It will be
 The Final Pick


Suit Up

through crowded
boulevards, crimson cape
swallowing my humble shadow,
and I become more than my wiry silhouette
suggests.  My cloak billows in the breeze as I soar
over solid earth, a comic book character come to life, a superhero.


The Less Than

She said 

Why am I the only one
with just a mom all the time?
Everyone else has both

As tears filled her eyes.

And why are all the other girls
not always fighting with their mom
or stressed out like you are?

More tears.
But not just from her eyes now.
I sniffle silently, so she may continue.

Why do they all have big houses
and backyards
and don’t have to choose
one thing or another?
They go on vacations
and go out to eat whenever
And buy and do whatever they want.

The same questions I ponder upon
in times like these.

Then she asks an interestingly loaded one,
with acute irony,
but more so,
an irony within irony,

Is this all just karma? 


Yeah. Karma. Like your car breaking down,
your phone messing up,
all the stuff I just said.
All of this.


My baby girl,
These trials and unfair happenings,
my dear,
are not in response to what we’ve given
or not given this world.
But a chance to learn.
What I do think,
I do think, having you and I be a team,
would be the best this earth,
and karma
could have given me.
The rest can go.
And now…
It’s what we do with these challenges.

I haven’t done very well lately.
I think I’m not learning my lessons.

Forgive my words
filled with fear & doubt.
we have less distractions,
we can more easily notice 
the beauty of the helpers
and love around us.
Just like how I see…
you’re the first of your friends to notice,
and discover
pure beauty, joy and connection
to a magical sunset,
and details of the sky
Or run to nurture a hurt soul.

We can notice
because we have less than.
But. With you,
I have more than anyone on earth.