the inn at castle rock
(a poem for Nowhere Man and a Whiskey Girl)
bisbee, arizona
woke up on a crooked
balcony at day break
overlooking downtown
it was a long night
like all the others before
i was still half lit
twenty or so small towns
lay in the wake of empty cans
well whiskey and song
some would call it
a fruitless endeavor
i’ll say it was the best
view of various
hardwood floors
across the southwest
In Fog
Talk to a stranger
in a urinal.
Sing a fight song or
walk with bowed legs
to the next dream;
personality personable
perishable & surely dull.
Walk more & more.
Epiphanies
I wanted a magical telephone
to dial me up and announce,
“This is college calling. We’ve
decided your major.”
Then I would fall asleep
and in the morning I’d know
with certainty what career
I’d be hired for.
A bird would descend from
heaven and chirp in my ear
to confirm my choice of mate.
“Yes, this man is to be
a good husband.”
Somehow I’d know to have
a child at age 25. Ring ring.
The doorbell sounding. It’s
a package!
Someone said to always ask
yourself a question about
any problem at bedtime and
sleep on it. The best answer
would always reveal itself
in the morning.
I wanted epiphanies
when hard decisions arose:
Move? Buy the house? Rent?
Quit this job? Have another
child? Leave my husband?
Stay with my husband?
I had an epiphany today.
I must be calm
and not need an answer.
~
Find Cathy online.
Read more "Cathryn Shea – Epiphanies"
Master Copy
I had split myself in two
and chose to leave some
gray areas in the new copy
like a photocopy, not as clear
pleasing, or useful as the original
but still able to function
for all intents and purposes
in tasks that require no heart or moxie
sure, she can smile
but she won’t feel happy
a xerox me is a little fuzzy
around the edges
of emotion and ambition
those bullet points that are subheadings
of the non-physical realms
crispness is absolutely necessary
to feel true pain
and true joy
and wonder
and gratitude
and in all matters of the heart
eventually, xerox me
would have demanded another copy
“the original has been lost”
she would proclaim
with unshakeable confidence
“and I am all that is left-
make copies from me,
and I will be
the master”
But there would be no light in her eyes
and the child would have disappeared
searching for the next lifetime
to inhabit
when the child is not nurtured
she has a tendency to wander
for curiosity of the world and beyond
and in search of divine potential.
Her sources are limited
without a master copy.
So the long and short of it is
that I have decided to shred xerox me
for fear that she would take over my life
and sell me to a mundane existence
that would eventually leave all of my most
beautiful flowers
without water
and my white wolf
without food.
xerox me has no concern
for much other than herself
and she foolishly tries to convince others
she is the original
but the originals among her
can tell that she is not.
i am relived to know that cheating
in this life-test did not progress
and hinder my progress
I really am here to learn
and damn it
I dont care about the grade
if the teacher cannot tell
who the real me is…
In a Thrift Shop in Denver
An old guy walked by, farting in a thrift shop in Denver.
I missed my father, so I started to follow him.
What people give away! Srsly. Bobble-less heads, rejected ornaments,
a blanket with a hole chewed in it.
Meanwhile that guy pppffst out what the Greeks thought
was how gods spoke to us with each step.
All morning I’d been stuck in a group reading the bible.
One woman wore a laminated thing around her neck that said
Please Speak Clearly! I kid you not.
I wanted one that said Warning: I’m An Asshole!
for that one autodidact, grinding his rancid opinions in
a Tupperware. The baby Rabbi whispered: God responds to our tears.
A young, anguished fellow replied: My father told me not to cry
at bullies, it eggs them on, his voice choked. But then Dad said: OK, cry.
Outside clouds over the Rockies, gray, pink and radiant, gather sky corners like the hem
of a robe, over the unknowable cleft on that farting guy in the Arc Thrift.
Read more "Merridawn Duckler – In a Thrift Shop in Denver"WALLFLOWER
He feels bad for denying his body
to the ones that do not want it.
His hands stay in his pockets.
His lips open only to speak.
Every part of him feels the sacrifice.
Every woman in the club
doesn’t notice that he’s there.
He keeps his eye on the men
who do surrender to their longing.
The other sex assign themselves
to each and every one
of these unabashed lotharios.
He despises how the way they abase themselves.
No way he’d demean himself
by asking another to dance.
His soul is pure.
His conscience, a fountain of clarity.
If any sin tonight,
it won’t be on his account.
When the place closes,
he goes home alone again.
“Did you have a good time?”
asks his mother.
He had an unblemished time.
He feels bad for thinking that’s good.
Read more "JOHN GREY – WALLFLOWER"Broke Off Like Trump
an old hippie sits
on the street in
handcuffs
they stopped him
because of a joint
they used probable cause
to search his truck
and found a .45
they took him in
though he had a gun permit
the hippie yelled for hours
about a trumped-up charge
another football player
takes a knee in the shadow
of the american flag
when questioned by the
media for his actions
he explained ” i’m just a pawn
in the white man’s game,” though he
bragged
in the past about being ” broke
off like trump ”
in brooklyn, i once worked on a
moving job on christmas eve
we had to pack up a mom
and 4 kids, cos they fell
four months behind
i told my co-worker
it was the foulest thing
a person could do
but her neighbor bailed her out
the woman told her, she’d
love to point her .38
at the face of old mister trump
the headlines read like orwellian declarations
like muhammad ali knocking out
sonny liston
” The Donald,” grabs life by
the pussy
he stands with his trophy wife yelling
” i shook up the world…”
this is the penitence we’ll pay
for not appreciating Obama
i wonder could i spend a
few years, not saying the word
” Trump?”
an interracial couple
boards a greyhound bus
for montreal
they dont know when they’ll
be coming back
but they know love trumps
hate
Read more "Erren Geraud Kelly – BROKE OFF LIKE TRUMP"