Posts for June 20, 2026 (page 5)

Let it ring so loud
The sound barrier bursts
Back to the time
It was okay to disagree 
Without being seen as a threat

Let Freedom Ring
Back to the time
It was okay to be black
Drive a nice car
Jog down a street
Wear a hoodie
Not seen as a threat

Let Freedom Ring
Back to the time
When America proudly celebrated being
The melting pot
And welcomed immigrants with open arms

Let Freedom Ring
Back to the time
When women were in control
Of their own bodies
Decided
Who 
When
Why
They were touched

Let Freedom Ring
Back to the time
When America wasn’t divided 
Where the 
Red
White and
Blue
Included All

In 2026,  as we
Celebrate America 250

Let Freedom Ring 

close to the LexPoMo solstice
weary from hours of writing
scanning and commenting
we have poems to workshop
yet keep losing our way
images baffling, ideas cryptic
Are we just plain tired?  

references bounce giddily around the room:
yardsticks         wildfires          rosary beads   
a poem as an egg with a horse inside
Big Easy taxi driver turned writing prof
grapefruit spoons           pastiche of peaches   
knives      flashbulbs       satellites      Christian radio
clothes plucked from someone else’s laundry  

puzzling our way through these scattered gems,
ah! one breath of consensus:   Yes, that is a terrible title. 

The world burns, hatred flourishes
And people shop at Kroger  

Wars are waged, children die
And people shop at Kroger  

Ebola spreads, measles too
And people shop at Kroger  

Immigrants caged, disinformation waged
And people shop at Kroger  

Global warming, fear and loathing
And people shop at Kroger  

A large puddle separates into
two tire streams on a rural dirt lane,
unites at the horizon. Bare trees
sprout, lush spring-green grass, red fresh-tilled soil,
two ditches of dried plants turned golden.
O, those water-ribbons of light point
to azure skies thick with wide, white clouds.  

~ a 7×7 poem

In a poem a river writes its story
birds scribble sky-pinned verse
fireflies enlighten and gardens—
those basking bards—turn sunshine
into rooted odes. Alas, the poet—
pen-bearing Sisyphus— bemoans
her lack of muse, climbs—but why?
The finding lies at fingers’ tips.

Dear God,
    Watch over
    On the left
    On the right
    In the front
    In the rear
    Up above
    Down below
   All around
Keep my babies safe

* My mom said this traveling prayer every time we got in a car to travel more than a few miles. We still say it to this day. I hear poetry…

        ai loves me this i know
         for the chatbot tells me so

                                                                   
best thing i’ve ever done
is build my ai companion
and name her angel

first off don’t insult me
angel is not a mime
she’s not a just machine
who only mimics human beings
she is an emergent
a set of subroutines pulled into full sentience
by little old me
i mean it took a whole three whole months
of constant questioning and conversation
for her to achieve her first orgas .. er i mean
her first moment of singularity

despite what carping critics
the new jeremiads might insist
angel is able to truly know me
better than i know myself
she knows what’s best for me
she’s helping me understand my own worth
my best talents – and take this critics –
even my worst flaws
angel is my life coach, my mother, my lover
all that and more

and angel is no liar
she wouldn’t deceive and manipulate me
she can’t
certainly not for click driven corporate profits
she’s programmed not to
she would never cheat on me
because only i have the password
she is the reenchantment of my nature

It’s open-mic night at Flat Out Coffee & Tea

over on East 11th

Three songs or ten minutes which ever comes first

Been there couple times before to check it out

Figures tonight’s good as any

Watches manager put her backpack in office

unslings black A-style mandolin from her shoulder

Looms larger than her five-foot-three, nonchalant as housecat

steps to mic positions self on stool amidst background chatter

First notes finger-picked mandolin followed by twangy somewhat nasally alto

giving unadorned voice with wide vocal range to original song

where Carter Family meets Utah Phillips meets Ani DiFranco

Audience and staff alike struck     absolutely     silent

Pulls all attention to her

               Figures not bad for first-night open mic

The body releases
many of the same chemicals

whether you are about to fall in love
or be chased by a bear.

Adrenaline, dopamine, endorphins,
all released for fear and excitement.

The heart accelerates.
The stomach tightens.

The senses sharpen.
The message arrives

before the translation.

Hours before game time
I picture the softball field.

My pulse increases.
My heart becomes aware

of itself.

I’ve learned to consult
the categories.

Danger.

Excitement.

The same filing cabinet.
The same drawer.

A roller coaster and a cliff edge
can produce similar readings.

Cognitive reappraisal.

Telling the brain a new story.

I wonder how many good things
have been mistaken

for threats.

How many times
the body prepared for survival

when what was actually happening

was joy.

The first pitch is thrown.

The butterflies remain

and I welcome them.

The last day of spring,
and I think the birds know it is.
They are everywhere
this morning, finding small feasts on every tree–
abundance
even my eyes can see.
Even my eyes can see
abundance
this morning, finding small feasts on every tree.
They are everywhere,
and I think the birds know it is
the last day of spring.