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Thursday, November 17, 2011

"Full House Funeral"

"reveal something"

I want to end it all
As the kind of person that
Fills the funeral home to
Standing room only with

Maybe a line stretching
Out into the street and
Snaking around the corner.
No one reading my death
Notice will say “Oh, that’s too
Bad.” like it could have been

Anyone else’s heart that had
Stopped beating and they just
Heard the News. I want tears, break-
Downs, empty boxes of tissues.

From my coffin, I don’t want to
Hear the time filled up by
Rehashed sermons and
People reassuring one another

That I’m in a better place, I
Want people lining up to tell
Stories of my kindness and
Then to realize that they also

Want a funeral with a full
Parking lot and front page
Spread in the hometown
Newspaper and go out and
Live their lives to make it happen.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

"Drops of Liking"

Drops of liking
Spatter the roof,
Oozing their way
Through every  

Crack to the room
Littered with chipped
China teacups, frying
Pans, and flower pots

Scattered on nightstands,
Mantels, and worn
Turkish rugs, desperate to

Gather the bits of
Affection that might
Someday add up to love.

Thursday, November 10, 2011


Bustle, bustle tiny specks
You mad, foolish people-flecks,
Someday, you will burn out too
So try to twinkle til you do.

prompt: "different perspective"

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

"To Swim Out to Touch the Skyline or Just Stay Here & Look.”

He stood, regarding the
Horizon as the ocean
Ate the sand from
Around his feet, sinking him

Deeper and deeper and
Deeper; the earth’s molten
Core warming his soles.
Should he shed his shirt and
Jeans like a snake wiggling
Between two rocks, leaving
Only the old shell of it’s

Former self, and dive in towards the
Sunset? Sharks might nibble at his
Elbows; Whales could sing him to sleep.

Swimming, floating, bobbing
Along, the salty water of sweat and
Tears would mix with the sea,

Maybe the level would rise and rise,
Munching away at the
Continents til the world was a peaceful

Plane of blue. He could throw his
Arm over the sun and pull himself up to lie
Down on the yellow flames to rest.
It might be peaceful, but then

Again he could just stay here and look.

Monday, November 7, 2011

“The Last Page”

On the smell of
Ink, the story
Unfolds. Eyes

Race from left to
Right to left
Again, like an over-
Wrought typewriter.
Pages turn,

Turn.  The end is
Looming, happily or

Sunday, November 6, 2011


Road signs, romance
Novels, headlines from
Trashy magazines in the

Checkout line.  She just
Can’t help it. Her eyes
Devour the letters of their
Own accord, words

Swimming behind her
Eyelids like coy in a pond,
Fattening her brain with the
Banal and the brilliant.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

“Needle & Thread”

There’s a hole in the
Pocket of the world and
All the good is spilling out. 

Straddle the sea, where
Gold coins can plop and
Splash a sopping offering;

Make a wish, but wish
Only for good things, and
Maybe a needle and
Thread to stitch it up again.

Friday, November 4, 2011

"Winter Coat"

Shiny black buttons
March down the front,
Topped by a Christmas
Red scarf, at long last
Braving the crisp air and
Churning leaves.  Sleeping

Away the summer, a
Secret tucked deep in a
Soft wool pocket. A

Forgotten note with three
Little words, nestled among
Gum wrappers and loose
Change; a little piece of
Happy to warm the
Winter months.