Posts for June 5, 2026 (page 11)

fresh plastic off the product
clear sheets of cellophane
crisp edges on the box
I tear
getting to the good part
setting out all accessories on the table
tinkering with my new toy
bending all the joints
to make sure they work just right
I find the paint so perfect
the face so sweet and new
pointedly painted cheeks
blush on the doll’s face
I found a new me over again
this time in her summer gown
a little more color to the skin
sunglasses in my rubber purse
eyes painted to gaze upwards
instead of to the side

has so much to say before his lips fall off.
The green is returning with the humidity.
He sees it all with eyes open
to the forest of friends. Family
tidying the woods around him;
the lady of the woods sweeping
the ground for sticks with the young
man who rode his bike through
the creeping phlox and is now
working towards restoration
in the neighborhood.
Mr. Treeface approves.

Congratulations!
you have more credit cards than you need
but the balances get paid
in full every month

you have a 30-year mortgage
and you pay on time
except for that one month
you bought a new car you didn’t need

so congrats on the high rating
but it could be higher
so why wait?
go ahead and apply for that unnecessary loan

or for another credit card
you probably won’t use

1.
Starting a new journal, no crazy first line, just new pimples every day and pens with
endless amounts of ink.
I wonder how many pens I would use in a year.
I have a truly infinite amount of pens what is a lifetime supply of pens and do I have it?

2.
This pen is from multiple years ago.
It’s from when I went to family weekend at a northeastern university, in October.
Being on a college campus again was a guilty pleasure,
something I wish didn’t feel so good,
perched in between the green spaces and red grey buildings,
anticipating other people’s adventures.

3.
I really need to get a new pen at this point it’s uncomfortable to write with and not very dark anymore.
I don’t want to waste pens even though I do have infinite pens.

4.
Is this pen finally running out?
I wish it was all at once and not gradual.
I guess if it doesn’t make me happy to write with anymore I should get rid of this pen.

5.
I should really recycle this pen now. It’s not worth writing with it still. But there’s so much ink left.

0.
I haven’t written in a few days because I needed to get a new pen.

The rest of the year, sleeping in until the alarm, 6AM, is normal, easily obtainable
Now, I awaken, stretch, warm and comfortable
Roll over, still dark, miles to go before I wake, bliss
And – chirp
Chirp
{cringe} please no…
CHIRP, CHIRP, CHIRP, CHIRP, CHIRP 
Cacophony, nails on a chalkboard
I swear there’s 10, or maybe 100,000 birds outside and they’re all on my windowsill
And fortheloveofGodit’s5AM
Maybe I can still salvage some time, chirp, chirp
Chirp, now they’re just laughing at me
Woof.  WOOF.  WOOF!
Sure, who doesn’t let their crazy hound outside to chase squirrels before the sun is up.
WOOF WOOF!  Let’s pretend that you can’t hear that because everyone else in the neighborhood certainly can
WOOF!
Serenity Now!!!
Just then, the sun snakes its warm tendrils gently around the edges of the curtain and STABS me right in the eyeball
Hi there, you awake yet?  Seriously?
It’s a beautiful day.  I’m sure it will be nicer later, once I’m out of bed
chirp, woof, light, noise, snuggly dog’s nails digging into my back, chirp
shut up, Shut Up, SHUT UP
-beep, beep, beep
Sigh

You were a fly in the ear of my youth
My Ricky Nelson crooning heart
My hard black plastic soul  

I remember my eager fingers
Laboring to dial some radio station
And be the 7th caller  

You taught me the music of love
We harmonized to the mirror
Danced cheek to cheek  

How many nights you laid
On the pillow beside me
Whispering sweet nothings  

My father brought home a Plymouth with fins
My sister held a wedding for the Potato Heads
And my mother discovered Tupperware  

I’m sorry I cheated on you
The 45s wooed and I swooned
But a girl never forgets her first  

And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses
Had the look of flowers that are looked at.
There they were as our guests, accepted and accepting.

 
 The roses had the look
 of flowers that are looked at –
 bruised thumbprints on their necks
 where someone stopped to smell and smile.

 One was a wound,
 open under a band aid;
 one was a thorn
 in the flesh of the night;
 one shivering, 
 the gray arm of the wind
 wrapped around her waist;
 one with petals like knees
 freshly scraped against the gravel.

 All blushing like actors
 caught mid-scene,
 unsure if the applause was coming.

Beneath the floral skin, 
a throb –
a secret pulse that
blooms and blinks
under the gaze,
like a held breath
waiting for the next one
to press close and say
they know the type
quite well.

They called him Indy.
When he moved in next door
had his own little house
near the wood pile.

Mixed blacks & browns
with a white brindle strip
a 60-pound nemesis
of every possum, squirrel,
snake and rabbit. They
laughed, said you could take
the dog off the rez, but not the rez
out of the dog.

Made friends through the fence.
I watched him age and slow,
using a sharp bark to make critters
pick up their paws.

We had a spot by the fence where
He would come for strokes. That’s
where I saw the cataracts. That’s
where I found the lump.

We knew it was coming. One morning
he stayed in his shelter. I crabbed over
the fence. Crying, I kicked a ghost hole
in the back of Indy’s hogan.
I can’t use his name anymore,
but the chindi is free.
Once a rez dog, always a rez dog.

as a child
i played ball for
our local moose lodge 
running, fielding, throwing 
i could have been
the say hey kid
of Chillicothe little league 
but i never swung
my bat
maybe it was some
sort of fear of failure 
or some other deep seated issue 
even Freud couldn’t analyze 
all i know is that
i went years without even
trying to make contact 
that metal Easton
sat on my shoulder so long 
they could have melded 
into one new cybernetic 
appendage
eventually i grew tired
of this self imposed 
routine of mine
so in the last game
in the last at-bat
of my little league career
down 0-2 in the count
i said to hell with it all
and i swung
on a fastball
straight down the middle 
oh how i wish
you could have heard the cheers 
of the crowd 
you would have thought 
H. Christ had come back for his encore 
but oh
how i wish you heard 
the silence 
as the shortstop grabbed the ball
and threw it to first 
and as the ump called me out 
as i was five feet 
from the base

#1 Fair Is

Fair is
Fairest will
Fair is wheel
Ferris wheel
Fair is not real
Fairest will always get the upper hand
Fair is a wheel—
a hidden driving force behind systems
Ferris wheel— a perpetual cycle, highs and lows, but still
only going round and round,
but no forward progression
I’m spent on this attraction—
financially and physically.

#2 “Did You Speak?”

The Black hello—or, speaking, as some may say—
is not worth much these days.
Respect seems optional,
or younger folks are oblivious.
It was once taught to acknowledge the ones who look like us.
To show solidarity in spite of the treatment from the ones who don’t look like us.
Because back then, we had each other’s backs.
Now, in a time where things are rolling back,
with blatant -isms present in person and online;
We’ve got to come together for the sake of our future and grow.
Let’s start with the minimum,
A head nod,
handshake,
“How you doin’?”,
or simply, “Hello.”