Hate

Sometimes I wonder if you hate
yourself the way I hate
myself, but I don't
ask,
after all these years I still don't
ask,
I just don't
care
     enough.

A one-sided conversation for Real Toads

When A Girl's Without Wheels

That old rust bucket Chevy on cinder
blocks stopped running right around the recession.
I've been holding place ever since.
When a girl's without wheels,
time stops and stalls.  Her gears
grind the years - like a stick shift
with a bad transmission.  I'd like
to visit myself somewhere,
but walking's hard
on my knees.  I content myself
with the heat mirage shimmering
off the blacktop.
When a girl's without wheels
anywhere is a good place to go.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Vigil #30

A boy not old enough
to vote or buy a beer
buys a gun.
Another school
sick/slick with blood.

      #

Thoughts

and

prayers.

    #

Our hearts
go out

    #

Yes, our hearts
go out

until the next
senseless tragedy

thoughts

and prayers
we conceal
and carry      on


According to the Gun Violence Archive, 30 mass shootings have occurred in the United States as of February 14, 2018.

Note: the Parkland shooter is actually 19 and old enough to vote.  

For Poetry Pantry at Poets United

Fitfully

Fitfully, I loved.
Electric in my skin.
Above, the sky turned starless,
bloodless,
a tent

revival;
a preacher
spitting sulfur to the wind.
There, fitfully, I loved you,
and I would again.

For Love Hurts at Real Toads

Gravity Fell

Gravity

fell last night
and proved its own existence.

I hummed Freud and swept the bar
a pearl beneath my tongue.

My family's in formaldehyde
awaiting resurrection.

Septic with their shadows,
I'm 48 and dying Jung.

For Poetry Pantry at Poets United