Tuesday, November 29, 2016


I have this friend. I know for a fact that he considers me a friend.

His name is Nathan, but his friends call him Nate.

His grandmother invented Oreos. They are a secret family recipe, you see.

Even though I have known Nate for a while, I don't know where he lives. No one else seems to know, either.

Sometimes he goes to Maine. Thinking about it now, I am not sure where in Maine he goes.

He goes there to speak to animals.

Nate speaks to people the way they speak to him. Short, quiet sentences or long, excited sentences. He can make any type of sentence.

He is an old, wise wizard in his youth. Nathan the Wizard.

it has been 18 days since leonard cohen died.

Friday, November 11, 2016

2 minutes

for 2 minutes every morning
i let my toothbrush do the work

let the bristles vibrate the plaque
off my tea stained teeth

and i think about cleaning
the grim off the door

about one foot off the ground
where the cats rub their cheeks

and i think about whether
i should have responded to that

facebook post about abortion laws
or if should have let it be

and i think about your voice
and how much more i like

the words on the page
and how guilty i feel about that

and i think about all the extra calories
that i should have said no to in the day

and then my tooth brush stops
the built in 2 minute timer is up

and those three teeth
that i mindlessly held my brush to

are really clean.

it has been 1 day since Leonard Cohen died. i think i will be okay.

Thursday, November 10, 2016

day zero

the lights are going out
clink. clink.

i don't know how to make them stop


today, Leonard Cohen died.

Saturday, September 17, 2016


the way the cat sees it
the fractured light

is an erratic and chaotic
intruder through which

irradiation is only achieved
through diligent and aggressive attack

to yield the desired dispersion
of the light creatures.

strange though it might seem
that the efforts by the cat

, no matter how fierce,
take exactly the same amount of time

as it takes the sun to move
from ground to sky and back again.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

interesting things you can do with sandwiches

a poem for MeeSherr

there are many things you can do
with sandwiches, but

there are only so many things
exclusively interesting

interesting without being gross
or childish or contrary

pure interesting is a talent
a special skill, honed

by those with love for the craft
and dedication to their work.

it may seem interesting
to put a sandwich under your bed

but most beds harbor dust
and fuzzy carpet

this is gross.
would you eat a furry sandwich?

it may seem interesting
to cut off the crusts and carve

your sandwich into fun shapes
like dinosaurs or hearts

but children do this to their food;
therefore, it lacks the exclusive allure

of being interesting simply
by being interesting.

it may seem interesting
to put chips in your sandwich

and it does taste great if your chips
are delicious and they go

with the flavor of your sandwich
but how many people have to do it

before it is no longer that interesting?
it may seem interesting

to substitute your bread with other foods
like lettuce or waffles

depending on your diet,
but we have seen this done

by large food chains now,
and so the interest is disappearing.

so how can one be truly interesting
and do interesting things with a sandwich?

perhaps the most interesting thing
one can do with a sandwich

is be completely normal with it.

her story

sitting down outside drinking something
hot from a paper cup

an old woman
skin like chocolate bark

except for pink fingertips
and white scar tissue

in the shape of a clover
under her right eye

you want to know what happened
curiosity tingles, motivates

you ask nicely
what happened to her

she doesn't look at you
she gets up

she walks away
like she never saw you


shrug it off. she's old.
maybe she's def?

Monday, September 05, 2016

how they met

they could have grown up together
and shared a short walk to the bus stop each morning

until he learned to drive and honked his horn
when he passed her, to make her jump every morning

until she started anticipating it with a middle finger
and a forgiving smile.

but there are many ways they could have met...

they could have gotten trapped in the same
broken elevator, or under the same awning

during a torrential rain.

they could have passed each other
for hundreds of days on the street

smiling each time, maybe wishing each other
a happy holidays or a sheepish wave

until one day he gives her a carnation
that he stole from the open front shop

around the corner.

they could have tried to adopt the same dog
or reached for the same jug of milk.

Monday, August 29, 2016

Mind Me

The mind, my mind

It doesn't always.

Saturday, July 09, 2016

at the stern

leant over the rails
at the stern

of the passenger vessel
bound for an unbound land

lush with hope and rich
with the stentch of opportunity

there she was
hair wafting in tandum

with the windsocks
admiring the wake of the ship

the back of her dress
constantly threatening

to reveal some flesh
unintended for peeping passenger

the girl at the stern
is the only one thinking

about the world left behind

Monday, June 06, 2016


I am stuck on an impossible idea
which is typical, at least for me

and not just an idea of impossible measure
but a mud-caked wreck of an impossible concept

lovers of O'Hara will appreciate the risk
of ending up in a knot of an unpunctuated triptych

it simply cannot happen
it cannot be formed into something you see

in a world where you are the most possible
the impossible flutters around you like a bee in heat

and it never lands.

Wednesday, June 01, 2016

the mark

hard to hide it from some. those who know you already, those who think they do.

when all of a sudden
you start treating someone
someone you just met
like you've never treated anyone

hard to hide it. because they know you.
they know the mark.

Sunday, April 10, 2016

a planet with long views

with the Found Poetry Review for National Poetry Month

The Prompt
The Brazilian poet Manuel Bandeira created the cento “Anthology” (see below) using lines from his own poems, instead of employing the traditional method of cento-construction (in which you build a poem entirely out of lines from other people’s poems). Following his example, write a cento that is a self-portrait, or anthology of your life, utilizing lines and fragments from your own work.
Or, alternatively, create a “self-portrait” cento using lines and fragments from
  1. other people’s poems (the traditional method), or
  2. song lyrics, or
  3. prose (fiction and/or nonfiction)
*To see the basic stipulations for writing a traditional cento, see http://myenchiridion.blogspot.com/2008_08_01_archive.html

The Poem

dan woke up
he is six years old
and he lives in a house with two cats

humans built the kitchen
bacon, eggs, mushrooms,
whipped cream, earl grey

she made them all
some elderly woman
every sunday afternoon at 5am

down the road ben woke up
to find his kitchen in a cloud of bread flour
Muriel and Beatrice created this great blizzard
they called it a donut shop

outside, three teenagers pulled beets
from the garden
they dreamt of opening a tapas bar
and calling it Norman's

a curious neighborhood
from the cats' perspectives
but the raccoons paid no attention.

Saturday, April 09, 2016


with the Found Poetry Review for National Poetry Month

The Prompt
Ok, here’s the prompt: pick a song that you find dynamic. Track its moves. Try to replicate that movement with a poem.

The Process
Sarah's awesome prompt is... well, very involved. I am taking a baby step towards the goal, by taking a song's lyrics and replacing them. I asked my husband to pick a song. He chose "The Greatest Man That Ever Lived" by Weezer.... I am translated part of the song.

The Poem

I fit to keep it neat like I just won't dance
But soon you'll be stitching in a signature

We're like a team with a magical dream
I howl like a wolf when You fill the moon

You get the moon and I get the ground
We've had the plot to take on the world

We've taken this all the way
and Curse on them for trying to take us down

Thursday, April 07, 2016


with the Found Poetry Review for National Poetry Month

One of the Prompts9.
Write a prose poem of five sentences. The first sentence should include a pronoun ( not “I”) doing something that itself includes an image/object. The 2nd sentence should have a different pronoun doing something else with the same image/object. The 3rd sentence should be a statement about this image/object. For the 4th sentence, write a simile that is unrelated. In the 5th, use “I” and relate part of the simile to the original statement. I know this all sounds rather clinical, but here by way of example is one I wrote:
The Problem
A woman accidentally walks into the men’s room. A man deliberately walks into the women’s room. I don’t believe in dialectics but abide by them nonetheless. It is like a painting of someone sheathing a sword. The problem is it is also like a painting of someone unsheathing a sword.
The Poem
we retracted the comments about the fish. they took the fish back anyway. the fish was not what was asked for. it was like getting a futon instead of a table. I wouldn't know what to do with it, I already have a bed and a couch.

Tuesday, April 05, 2016

wonder market for monsters

with the Found Poetry Review for National Poetry Month
Prompt: WordBlocks
Words have multiple meanings. Meanings have multiple words. I think of wordblocks as a single-word stand-in to express multiple meanings, or an ambiguity of meanings. I use them in my writing all the time, and often generate them as a warm-up exercise before I write.
  1. Write a word.
  2. Make a list of other words that are related to this word, in meaning or in spelling.
  3. Combine these words into one wordblock sharing letters. (See pictures for example)
  4. Keep rearranging, adding, or subtracting words until you have a wordblock you like aesthetically both visually, and linguistically. A wordblock rarely looks great on the first try. Wordblocks have vast potential both handwritten, and typeset either digitally or with moveable letterpress type.
  5. Your wordblock can stand alone as a one-word poem, or be placed in a sentence. Try stringing multiple word blocks together. The result is a sentence that provides multiple ways to navigate it.

See Examples Given Here

so i made this thing....

Monday, April 04, 2016


with the Found Poetry Review for National Poetry Month

Stare at a word until the letters start to discorporate. You will find that letter cohesion, the letter glue that keeps letters stuck inside a word, is disrupted and dissolves. Fragments of letters will dislodge too. You are then free to visually interpret or document the life of letters outside their word existence as loosely or succinctly as possible.



languish language language languish land squish land switch

i immediately heard the word language. and i immediately heard the limitations in it.

i only know how to say thank you in seven languages. there is so much more to learn.

learn language. learn limits.

and our learning has limits and our length has breath. and this too is in the language of things.

Sunday, April 03, 2016

Letter from the Illuminati

with the Found Poetry Review for National Poetry Month
The Prompt
This prompt is modeled after that project. You can start with any piece of junk mail or advertising, or any legal document or bureaucratic form (it’s tax time!). Choose a few sentences. Remove the nouns. Replace them with:
  • words from a poem you’ve abandoned
  • words from one or more poems you love (by anyone, yourself included)
  • any other source that works
From there, work what you’ve got into a poem.

My husband and I just renewed a particular policy. Can you guess what kind of policy from the poem? ....


With respect to the Majority,

You may claim that abandonment benefits loss.
You may call your local House.
But you have Selected.

So now you have Reflected?
You cause Volcanic Eruptions to Damage us?

To expect your best is your business.
Only your obligation is our priority.

And you will Pay your Share
when we pay for the glass roof and hidden rot.

This was made clear upon signing. You have already
Paid in Full.

Your obligation and Your risk, these are our Delight.

We know You will renew your policy.

Thank you.
The Trampoline Dog of Law

Friday, April 01, 2016


with the Found Poetry Review for National Poetry Month

the prompt:


the pages:
the remainders:
work done is by master. eleven were in on the government. according to the mechanic undergoing storm assembling. complete steam undergoing repairs and work and work and two and thirty-two repairs machinery. found all the coal approximately. making consumption. all used for the power. at the three men, one man, each man acting. were during making the consumption total water. to which chargeable. consumption, adjustment, attention, the end. adjustment, the attention, which the government of the occasion of country. enough has to end in view, the three big indicated in this. and need is this and need as now the whole is necessary as to quick unhealthy. healthy if the interests changes are going change. country government will be through the community. some will be merely the methods. minds need and goods we keep. heads and these things in a little army. the task of everybody out by labor four asked the government the sum. press principle in the construction for construction for operation. for made in construction the dock state. France sailed from France the two other. the battleship and five peace of powers is remains until in and terms to second this determination to press the past will wagon. funds for operation a necessary expenditure for the country. line is as a remedy for the slow when the refund to consequence expiration of the resolution without excuse is urged to present aid. to secure government, government between a necessary and improving condition based on that than any to know wagon and government. bad and by during stormy November. cleared in the week.
the poem:
work done well is by a master.
eleven were in on the government. according to the mechanic --
which is undergoing stormproof assembling.
complete. reformers steam ahead. undergoing repairs
and work and work and work and work and two and thirty-two repairs --
machinery work. or so they found all the coal --
making consumption for government. all used for the power.
at the three men, one man, each man acting.
as if power were working.
were making the consumption total.
to which the men are chargeable.
consumption, adjustment, attention, --
the end. adjustment, the attention,
unto which the government  --
of the occasion of country
is enough  and has the end in view.
the three big indications in this.
is this and need  --
as now the whole is necessary
as to quick unhealthy.
healthy if the interests of men
change and are going to change for good.
country government will be through the community.
some men will be merely become the methods.
government minds need --
and goods men keep.
heads and these things --
as in a little army -- these are the tasks of everybody --
out by labor.
four asked the government
the sum. press principle --
in the construction for construction
for operation. for made in construction --
the dock state of France
sailed from France to the two others.
the battleship and five peace of powers
remains until --
in and of terms to second this determination
to press the past will of men like a wagon.
funds for operation are a necessary expenditure --
for the country. line is as a remedy  --
for the slow when the refund to consequence expiration --
of the resolution without excuse
is urged to present aid.
to secure government,
government between a necessary and improving --
based on that which more than any
to know the will of men as if by wagon --
and government.
bad and by doing so during a stormy November.
but cleared in the week.
the notes:
upon lifitng the text, i inserted my own punctuation, namely the period. in the manifestation of the text as a poem, words were added to benefit the narrative, and breaks were added to benefit the breath. as this is my first erasure piece, and outside my comfort zone, as it were, i brought the content into familiarity via couplets, of which i am very comfortable.

Tuesday, February 23, 2016


i watched a crow
move in a spiral

from the outside
of the cul-du-sac

to the center where
it spun in place

before burring its beak
in discarded candy

that had been buried
under snow

since Halloween.

Tuesday, December 29, 2015


molded to a dress, to a belief,
to an event, and to a legacy.

from the outside, a statue
of perfection, but on the inside


butterflies flutter out of control

however fueled by certain conviction
in a vow, she would not waiver.

because her vow lasts longer
than a moment.


once around

all the gears are in motion
lubricated against grinding
so the sound of creation
is cool. you can hear the hum.

once again

the gears are getting older.
with every revolution
they lose some of their iron
and the teeth don't fit as neatly together.

once around again

the pieces don't fit well enough
to justify them any more
so they are replaced by new,
younger pieces.

and the revolutions begin anew. repeating themselves. around. and around again.

Monday, December 28, 2015

Monday, December 07, 2015

heart rate rounder

fit to the flow
fix to the follow up
lips up

heart rate running
risk of failure
rumbling in your chest

don't take your time
speed up
the lips
until they touch


Monday, October 19, 2015

on Los Angeles

kale and avocado crazy;
it's in the ice cream,
on every plate;
and all the cats here
work for the cops.

Monday, June 29, 2015

happy loneliness (6/29 title by Emilie Noetzel)

watching your favorite reality tv show

dressing purely for comfort, screw fashion

eat the whole thing

with your hands

and laugh when you say "excuse me" out of habit.


Stolen from _fernbeds_

take the carcass of the thief
dismantled as it ever was

stolen from the nests of albatross
and plover for structure among weaker fibers

take the chance encounter
with the larger birds

to bring home the bones of a wasted life
that was coveted none the lesser

fore the value of any other
it is relative to the life and the one living it

but you can't explain that to the birds


just a bit of Jack


is the albatross a brave bird
or just a big one?

does it eat whatever it wants
or whatever it can find?

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

it's june already??

no wait... june is almost over already!!

the boundary of envy

we cross the river again
murky with sludge
and banked by stagnant pools

the net cast is catching it all
the slime and filth
the lies and dead fish

to the other side
looking back we notice
our selves in different shapes

the eyes matching
the lips curling down
the reflections staring back

our time is over
to look back, now
we must press forward

to the valley
where wolves await
starving for meat

to the valley
where we will find
ever more and more

different versions of our selves
as we shed each layer
at each boundary

Friday, June 19, 2015


projects piling up, unfinished.
attentions thwarted, distracted.

this is a summary of me, of my work.
to detail it all would take too long, and I may never finish it.

Saturday, May 16, 2015

always and forever (5/29 title by Meaghan Hughes)

from http://www.juvenile-in-justice.com/ o

I am over and over
I reoccur.

my wounds have their own scars
my tattoos have stories.

I cannot speak
I only repeat.

until the thin skin that protects me
haunts me. That itch never goes.

it's here and here and here.
it hurts.

over and over. And I scratch.
and the itch remains.

and I start over.
again. I reoccur.

and over and over and forever.

Monday, April 20, 2015

If I was everything you thought I was (4/29 title by Nicole McLemon)

everything I am, you know,
you thought you knew.

from pearls to pointe
with curls and curves

and minty fresh retorts
to your boring anecdotes

i am everything you know
and i am more

than you could ever imagine.

Wednesday, April 08, 2015

Lemon Wednesday (3/29 title by the staring man)


the stitch stings
like lemon juice
in a paper cut
on a cloudy Wednesday
when no one is in the mood
to give any sympathy
and spans the length
of my entirety

Thursday, April 02, 2015

Yeast. Bees? Geese. (2/29 title by Evan)

Part 1: Yeast.

... don't give my any of your
nano-brewery bullshit

it was made in a bathtub
wasn't it?

Part 2: Bees?

... those aren't sweaters, that's...
just the color of their fur.

... or whatever.  fuzz.  i don't
know what bees are made of, do i?

Part 3: Geese.

feathers and monocles.  right.
and nick frost is going to jump

right out of this whoopee pie
that is really some cake

in the shape of cookies
sandwiched around... stuff.

nothing to do with pie.

stop looking at me.

luscious frustration (1/29 title by Daniella)

the way your whole heart warms up
at the sight of him, making stupid faces

at a friendly stray cat
when he doesn't know you're watching.

fun, cute, you think you can do the same
so you make a stupid face at him

and the only reply is a scowl
when you know he can be just as dumb

and fun as you want him to be.

but stray cats get all the looks.

Wednesday, April 01, 2015

Poetry Month

I am not participating in any special poetry month projects.  That's not a very good reason why I shouldn't try to write more this month than my recent normal amount. 

Poetry forthcoming. 

Saturday, March 28, 2015

the pull through

watching a fat cat
pull itself through

a tiny space.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

dark river

our feet tucked in socks and winter boots
slipping on rocks

algae covered and eroded
the smooth surfaces, no edges,

left nothing to grab
but each other

as we clumsily crossed the dark river
from one galaxy, snow covered and bare

to the one we will conquer
and warm with the blood of our foes.

[inspired by the dark river]

Sunday, January 18, 2015

the sun

one cannot trust the sun
as bright and beautiful
as she shines

to look upon her
is to turn your eyes
into liquid gold

burnt forever
by her stunning visage
blinded by her light

and overcome
by her beauty
her radiance

her wrath.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

in the dream

in the dream
i was brave enough

and strong enough
to hold him down

but when i woke
i could not even reach him

Saturday, January 10, 2015

and you'll never guess

a funny little brown book
wrapped shut with leather twine
the same color as the book

and on every page
is just



the secrets to the universe
written in a funny little book

one word per page.

and you'll never guess how many pages
in that funny little brown book,

because that

is a secret.

Thursday, January 08, 2015

long back

the mess of stitches
that make the matador's costume
so elegant in appearance

 the gold and the teal

fitted tightly


are not revealed to the spectator

the same way the mess of stitches
that make up his wife's troubled heart

cannot be seen by anyone looking in

elegant, she waits

Sunday, January 04, 2015

end of the weekend

the groceries were stored away in cupboards and containers

decaffeinated sodas in cans littering the small table
alongside empty plates where enchiladas once laid

he plays a colorful shoot-em-up
while she rests her head on a shoulder

reading the alchemist, sucking on a candy cane
stolen from the Christmas tree, doomed to come down

this time next week.

Friday, January 02, 2015

the death of Harriet

this is not one of those stories about Harriet, whom everyone knows.  rather, here is the story, the mystery, if you will, of how a Welshman and a well bred Canadian met in a dilapidated café under a bridge in the city of London.

it was a white-box, a pop up, it was under a bridge in London.  the sort of little café tourists only end up in when they're lost or it's raining the sort of rain it rains in December when thousands are out doing their holiday shopping.  heavy.

the tea served so hot that no one left with all the taste buds they came in with.  and not the sort of place you usually find a handsome Welshman dressed in a tailored suit with a matching coat, nor a woman in pearl studs and shiny brown pumps.  certainly not one as fine as her, not Canadian anyway.

so it was hard for them not to notice one another, of course.

he was opening tiny milk packets and sugar packets and pouring them into his foam cup.  packet after packet trying to mask the taste of burnt tea.  a head nod to the lovely young lady.

a smile.

then a turn.  among half a dozen strangers, she cried.  openly.  weeping.  a damsel in unabashed distress in such a way that only a finely dressed Canadian woman could get away with in a dingy London café under a bridge in the rain.  it may not have been raining. 

so he comforted her, naturally.  handing her tissues and there-there-ing her. 

that's how they met, you see.  it must have been 2006, the year that Harriet died.  but we still don't know how the Welshman and the Canadian ended up in the same café in London, or why the tea tasted so burnt yet people still paid 98p for it.

it is estimated that Harriet was 175 years old by then, yet even of that we are not so sure.

Thursday, January 01, 2015

the mudroom

the mudroom
became a sea of flowers
spanning the color spectrum

and just as the delivery truck left, a small brown rabbit appeared

followed by a tired man in pajamas
who poured himself a mug of tea

and gazed across the sea of color
only to find his wife, trapped on the other side
of the tiny room
meant for dirty shoes and umbrellas.

Tuesday, December 30, 2014


that look

across the lobby of a gaudy hotel
on par with the grand Budapest

big and open and yet

reeking of the same stuffy stench
as a small hallway in an old woman's duplex
in somewhere like Cornwall

as if the carpets haven't been cleaned
since the last great war.

that look

that look that penetrates the mire and murk

that look that breaks your pace

forces your pupils to grow big
in an effort to absorb more detail

that look that breaks you

at the end of a long story, that you thought wouldn't end.

at least,

not like that. 

well read

she doesn't want to do anything today.

and no one else does


Monday, December 29, 2014

if her eyes

if her eyes were the same color as yours
would you trust her more
or less?

because you know all the things
your eyes have seen.

would you want her to see the world
like that?

we are made of stuff

i have a few days off.  off from one of three jobs, anyway.  so as far as i see it, i have 35 hours to myself.  in that time i have a few objectives.  one of them, to do a little bit of blogging.  why not, right?

day one:

i made a lot of progress on my jigsaw puzzle while watching season four of portlandia and eating cinnamon rolls.

i watched cloudy with a chance of meatballs 2, and hung out with my three favorite cats.

i made vet appointments for two of those three cats (just routine visits).

i also got my free fitbit in the mail.  i work for weight watchers, and while they don't pay great, they do give their meeting-room staff a few good perks.  so tonight, ryan is going to help me set it up to sync with my phone.  to make the device worth while, i am also going to get a gym membership.  so one of my objectives this week will be to get to the gym a couple of times. 

my objectives for this little bit of time i have off includes four books.  okay, i am in the middle of half a dozen already, but the four pictured are the ones i hope to delve into this week.  i won't finish them, but i will get into them enough to want to continue them.  or, maybe i'll just finish one.

A Brief History of Time by Steven Hawking
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
The Strange Library by Haruki Murakami
and Sharp Teeth by Toby Barlow

some poetry may occur. 

some online shopping may occur.

some sit ups, some episodes of The Cosmos with NDT, some cleaning of the house, some sleeping in...

Monday, November 03, 2014

the leather bound

the leather bound

he writes one page every day
for the rest of his life

the story of his desires
his secrets and regrets

buried with him
years and years later

leather bound by a friend
a lover

every page stitched
and buried

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

it was green, spetember

today i felt the whispers of september

leaves skipping across cracked new england pavement
when my back was turned

and the noiseless rustling of spiders' webs
blown away by the morning breeze

dew weighing everything down

Monday, August 18, 2014

i am still here

although silent.  still writing.  although silent. 

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Drabble #18: Shortbread

short on butter again, the scone sat unfinished on her plate.  a wounded monk in the crossfire of desire and reality. 

she sat pouting, staring at the monstrosity of sweet bread like one might a snoring bedfellow.  not enough butter.  cheap.

overall, she decided, she preferred biscuits over bread.  savory or sweet, didn't much matter the kind of bread, there was hardly ever enough butter.  but biscuits came with built in buttery goodness.

shortbread, she thought, then. 

that is what she would have next time.  yes.  forget the scones and lack of butter.  she'd have a biscuit with her tea.

Monday, June 23, 2014

Ten Reasons NOT to be Sad

I am sad today.  I have a reason to be.  But I also have a lot of reasons not to be sad...

Ryan - my amazing and wonderful husband and best friend

Rowdy - my amazing and wonderful and crazy (and secretly affectionate) feline friend

Jack - another amazing and wonderful bag of feline fur who fits himself into tiny boxes and somehow makes it look comfortable

Alli - yet another amazing and wonderful feline who likes to cuddle while we watch tv

the Bike my dad gave me - I finally went out this morning for a bike ride.  I only went out for 25 minutes, but it's in preparation to be able to ride the distance to work comfortably.

my New Watch - it's small and white and has big numbers and it's also water proof.  now I will be able to tell the time in my weight watchers meetings and on my runs and bike rides.

my Family - although there are occasional rough patches, everyone in my family and my husbands family are loving and caring

all my Jobs - I have three, and my own business, which means I work a lot, but it means Ryan and I are able to do more.  And I like everything I do.  I hope I can keep doing it all. 

Online Shopping - and My Husband for letting me get some summer clothes!

Netflix - because you can watch almost whatever you want these days

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Drabble #17: Mercy

mercy grows in the dessert

between the grains of sand
too small to see with even a microscope

mercy grows in between the cracks

and splinters of old shingles
still clinging to the sheds after hurricanes

mercy grows in the heart of the man

who spent his weekend rescuing tiny kittens
after he saw one fall out of a tree

mercy grows in the front seat

of the family car where dad is sat
counting to ten for the tenth time today

mercy grows in.  and out.  and around

in unexpected patterns, just like ivy.
or mulch after a tornado.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Drabble #16: Juxtaposition


please don't be so sad. we are all the same.
we fix our selves against imagination and the selves of others.

squatting between look and touch, the smooth of the cool light blue on white with a matching saucer and the warmth of the tattered soft black fur around our paws.  the sweet insides of this one and the burning bitterness inside the other. 

we juxtapose our selves and each other.  the exterior calm against the coal fires burning inside.

we want to be the white porcelain tea cup, but we're really a big black bear.  and we are lost. 

Friday, May 30, 2014

Drabble #15: Wrinkled

betty sat, legs dangling over the edge of the dock, as she consumed her second ice cream. she watched her friends diving into the sea. they would appear out of the sky like angels before splashing into the ugly water. the cast on her arm kept her from joining in. so she ate vanilla ice cream instead.  afforded by asking all the boys she knew if they could spare her a penny or two.  those who wrinkled their nose at her were rewarded with a shinny shoed kick to the shin.  how do you think she broke her arm, anyway?

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Drabble #14: Stretch

st re t ch
s t re t c h
s t r e t c h
s  t  r  e  t  c  h

br eath
br e a th
br e a th
br eath

s  t  r  e  t  c  h
s t r e t c h
s t re t c h
st re t c h

stretch arms
legs stretch
muscles and mind

bre ath
br e a th
b r e e e e a a a th
breath out

st re t ch
s t re t ch

Oulipost Exit Interview, nearly one month late

Oulipost Exit Interview: Oulipost Ends Where the Work Begins

Question 1: What happened during Oulipost that you didn't expect? What are the best (or worst) moments for you?

I bought printed newspapers.  I enjoyed reading through them.  That surprised me. 

There were a lot of tired moments.  The only times I really didn't like the project was when I allowed a build up of two or three and had to do multiple poems in a day.  That was much less enjoyable then finding myself engrossed in the news of one day.

Question 3: What does your street look like?

My home street is changing.  Our neighbor has just built a new garage.  They don't have any grass.  There is enough grass on my lawn for them.  If I lease it out, do you think they'll mow part of my lawn for me?

Question 4: Who is your spirit Oulipostian?

um... I honestly haven't read very many of the poems by other oulioposters... I suppose I read more of Nicole's poems than anyone else.  And she is a wonderful human, so I chose her. ^_^

Question 5: What are the top three poems you wrote during this project?

Here you go:  http://somethingkaty.blogspot.com/2014/04/oulipost-round-up.html

Question 2: What questions do you have for your teaspoons? What questions do your teaspoons have for you?

If I could ask them, I suppose I would ask them if they like honey.  Do they like the way it feels?  They never seem to want to let it go.

My teaspoons would probably not ask, so much as demand not to be used to scoop out wet cat food.  Maybe they would ask "Why can't the forks do it?"

Question 6: What will you do next?

 I have been failing to write a drabble every day in may. 

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Drabble #13: Bruises

the market stretches out for miles. actual miles.  you read it in the brochure. all manner of produce and local fare.  and girls in high heels and summer dresses with little belts synched around their little waists smelling figs and checking for bruises on the skins of white peaches.  their baskets filled with fresh roses and flour from the mill to take home to make bread for their husbands who never get to see them just like this, like you see them, out in the sun.  smelling fruit, smiling at you, and winking at each other like they know something.

Drabble #12: Leaping

from the back of the plane it was all i could do to keep my breath from escaping, from leaping out of my chest through my lips and away from me forever the way she had just... just now.  from the back of the open cargo loft she rolled out, rolled away for the last time. 

i had to hold on.  she couldn't.  she should have been strapped in around all four limbs, but the brackets gave way and she's... gone.  we're 30,000 up making tracks across the indian ocean and my car just rolled out of the f*ck*ng plane.

Drabble #11: Steel-toed

we don't talk about fashion because we're victims of it, we talk about fashion because it gives us power. we wear steel cages around our hearts to protect us against love we cannot control.  we wear steel-toed shoes every day.  we wear stripes to distract them and polka-dots to attract them.  we wear spats and straps and roses behind our ears as lures for the weaker ones, then we tear them away. the ones we can only wash with like colors and cool water.  we don't talk about it because we have to, we talk about it because we can.

Drabble #10: Cheddar

"stop saying 'orange'" he said as they walked home after lunch
"stop complaining" she said back
"if you'd stop complaining about the color of it, i'd stop complaining about you complaining" he argued
"if you'd stop making cheddar the wrong color, i'd stop complaining altogether" she argued back

they walked the rest of the way home side by side in silence.  every now and again he could feel her red trench coat brush against his bare arm.  he wished he hadn't asked her to stop complaining.  now she wouldn't say anything at all.  not to him.  not for a while.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Drabble #9: Influenza

transmitted through the air
transmitted by direct contaminated
Airborne absolutely clear
viruses by sunlight,
disinfectants and detergents
inactivated by soap, washing r
isk of infection can occasionally
lead pneumonia, direct viral
or secondary, even for persons
who are usually very healthy 
In particular it is a warning
sign to be getting better
and relapses with Another warning
to have trouble breathing
No benefit Influenza
spreads around the world
about three to five
about millions in three occurred,
existing human animal species,
birds or pigs. concern of people.
strain and The World officially
the outbreak to be spread actually having a rate.

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Influenza

Drabble #8: Treble

the stairs creak wildly under foot
of even the tiniest beast

and the sounds seem louder
in the dark of night than it does under sunlight

because our ears grow stronger
when our eyes can't manage in the depth

of lack of light on nights when the moon
doesn't reflect even a shiver of light

but the treble still rumbles
through the dumbs nestled inside our heads

so we can hear the heart beat in our own chest
as the little beasts climb the creaking stairs

and the rhythm of their chaotic scuffles
down the corridor towards our locked door.

Wednesday, May 07, 2014

Drabble #7: Measure

he only weighs seven pounds, but the mass of his purr lifts my mood no matter how heavy the burdens of the day's trials resting on my back like barnacles, harsh and sticky and old.  small and soft and sweet, he greets me with his tail in the air and a meow on his little orange lips. his whiskers the measure of happiness. he shares that happiness in his own little ways; nestling onto your lap for a tv show and purring so loud, you have to turn the volume up to 46. he fits just perfectly, lightening the world.

Tuesday, May 06, 2014

Drabble #6: dew

it would have been a Tuesday
by the calendar created at the start.

the sun collapsed against the horizon
in a hundred different strands of color

pleated against the ocean like fabric
on a young girl's first, best dress.

while a spider watched as the world ended,
colorless it stayed dangling by a silken thread

in the cool of a wind swept beach,
as life slipped beneath the earth.

the last sunset, the last settle of dew
on the last strands of crab grass

at the last place where the sun was seen
by the last spider that ever lived.

Drabble #5: indigo

your hair is a mess, big and brown, ruffled against a night of vibrant dreams, running and jumping and falling freely through miles of uncharted airspace, ruffled against the pillows, the static building up from the friction of hair versus fabric, yours eyes are stuck shut with the residue of rapid eye movement, deep dreaming, memory building, reformation of the neural passage, your feet are sticking out from under the indigo and green patched duvet you tossed around all night, the light shining in against your pink wrinkled cheek where the creases from your pajama sleeves left their wicked marks.

Drabble #4: threaded

the flannel is worn away at the elbows on the shirt you've worn for 14 years.

it smells just like you, even after a wash. 

soft as skin to touch, i pet the sleeve against your forearm and imagine what you would look like if your skin were flannel patterned.  it wouldn't be very different.

you take my hand in yours.  we're at the movies.  or an arcade.  or one of your friend's parents' house on a Thursday night.  you take my fingers and thread them through yours.  threaded tighter than the fibers holding the elbows of your shirt together.

Monday, May 05, 2014

Drabble #3: Worrisome

the thump thump thump

my heart, when the lights go out


it starts with heavy

sounds like thunder and earthquakes


rumble my guts and echo my heart's

thump thump thump...


we're trapped.  stuck in this

until the end.  bitter or sweet.


exposed to clouds and sad songs




the crashing down of

heavy limbs and the screeching


the sound of monsters

from the deep


thump, my heart stops,

thump, my heart starts,


thump thump thump... 

the audience screams


some worrisome tremor

this heavy burden of suspense,


the sound of souls losing

their grip on tangible


hearts. they go thump... thump...

Friday, May 02, 2014

Drabble #2: Simple

the sun was peaking in through the gap in the blinds.  he needed to go back to the hardware store to get the correct sizes. 

moving in was too much work.  too many boxes that he neglected to label.  no clean clothes, because he packed all his clean and dirty clothes together.  biggest mistake he'd ever made.  even bigger than the wrong size blinds. 

so he showered with dirty clothes on.  another mistake.  how was he ever going to dry them?

he sulked out of the bathroom and out onto the deck.

there enjoyed the simple warmth of the sun. 

Thursday, May 01, 2014

Drabble #1: Vaster

what comes to mind first
when you say "did you see that thing on the news?"

is that the mass of all the termites on earth
outweigh the mass of all the humans.

but that wasn't what you were referring to.

you mention a car crash, and i imagine the probability
of two cats with the exact same stripes.

or the complexity of mitochondria,

and the way some plants grow better in sand.

"hello?" i watch your hand wave before my eyes
"are you listening to me?" and ponder the vaster nature

of every day, reoccurring.
like a hand waving.


Wednesday, April 30, 2014

drabdaymomay... on the way!

From the Curator of DrabDayMoMay...

"Dear Drabblers,

You've heard the old saying "April showers bring May flowers"? Well, today I'm introducing you to a new saying. "April showers bring DrabDayMoMay". It's sure to catch on in the general vernacular.

Because here we are. April less than two hours away from her demise. May just around the corner, ready and waiting for us to arrive.

You know the rules. A drabble is a piece of writing exactly 100 words in length. My challenge to you is to write one every single day in May. They can all be a cohesive story. They can be wildly different from each other. Or some sort of in-between state. It's all good.

On Thursdays, I'll post the title for Super Saturday. Saturdays, you post the drabble that goes with that title. You don't have to do it but it's always intriguing to see the different stories that come from the same title.

If you are drabbling on your own blog, that's fine. If you'd like to post your drabbles on this blog, let me know and I can give you access. When posting here, remember to tag your name so that it's easy to read the drabbles by author. And feel free to add other tags as well.

The point is to write. 100 words. 31 days.

Let's do this.

Best of luck,
The Curator

Oulipost Round-Up

April is over.  Get ready for lots of drabbles!  (Nicole provided word prompts this year, so there may be fewer cat poems than the last two or thee drabble months.)

but before i let April go... someone on facebook had a splendid idea that i chose three of the ouliposts that i like the best for myself.

here they are...

There are the Memories: Oulipost #21

There are the Cranberries: Oulipost #14

There are the Definitions: Oulipost #3

and to wrap it all up officially...

a sleeping cat...

on a pile of newspapers...

Oulipost #30: Patchwork Quilt

Prompt: Conclude the project by writing a poem that incorporates words and lines from all of your past 29 poems.

source: http://somethingkaty.blogspot.com/search/label/oulipost

a mansion is frozen in lime juice
on the beach, in the deep water,

especially on the coastline
where, the next day (despite emotional drama),

herring urged the hobo to drive the ocean,
damn the heroin, and school the whale

like a car (they go by) to join with similar fruit.
real pie.  Punch the injury of the funded hard whale

the two men who could fit between these
caught the duet and released it

to a tragedy of scallops, lobster and oysters
employed by organisms for specified

front of faces at fenway park
where any several soft-rayed food fishes

in front of the famous family of fishermen
from all kingdoms of life can be found and remain.

Oulipost #29: Canada Dry

Prompt: The name of this procedure is taken from the soft drink marketed as “the champagne of ginger ales.” The drink may have bubbles, but it isn’t champagne. In the words of Paul Fournel, who coined the term, a Canada Dry text “has the taste and color of a restriction but does not follow a restriction.” (A musical example is Andrew Bird’s “Fake Palindromes.”)  Be creative, and write a poem sourced from your newspaper that sounds like it’s been Oulipo-ed, but hasn’t.

Source: Cape Cod Times, Wednesday, April 30, 2014

family rapidly of rising than
 prices dozen are cod putting will
no squeeze branches of limes
on a Tuesday.

when animal league boston
Mexican truck low-cost
and surgeries who aren't
the lime juice spike
and shore dog inching towards
a cat who came home
procedures, told local clinics.

visit the combination waggin'
Tuesday has taken big parked
in the tire lot no restaurants
unplanned margarita
which be average burden
owners animal league say.

Monday, April 28, 2014

Oulipost #28: Melting Snowball

Prompt: A text in which each word has one letter less than the preceding one, and the last word only one letter. From your newspaper, select a starting word, and then continue adding words of decreasing length from the same source article or passage. Challenge yourself further by only using words in order as you encounter them in the text.

Source: http://www.capecodtoday.com/article/2014/04/28/25154-searching-autumns-forever-home-spring

I would like to dedicate this poem to Autumn, the pretty kitty pictured above.  I hope she finds a forever-home soon!

For Autumn

characteristic tortoiseshell
(appointments) contentedly expressive
attention (previous equally loving years)

 more fur do a.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Oulipost #27: Irrational Sonnet

Prompt:  Create a 14-line sonnet sourced from lines from your newspaper that is divided according to the first five digits of the irrational number pi – that is, into stanzas of 3, 1, 4, 1 and 5 lines. As with the preceding sonnet assignment (see April 14) you may interpret “sonnet” as formally or as loosely as you wish.

Source: Cape Cod Times, Saturday, April 26th, 2014, the Real Estate Section

set nicely on the edge
and just walk through
some of the best...

peace and tranquility.

(gain) access to the
knowledge of the
keepsake of the canal
over two weekends.

 - it's time.

we're with you
every step of the way;
on the beach,
in the city,
deep water boating.

Oulipost Interlude

Jack is helping me catch up on my Oulipost poetry. 

Oulipost #25: Larding (line stretching)

Prompt: Aka “line stretching.” From your newspaper text, pick two sentences. Add a new sentence between the first two; then two sentences in the new intervals that have become available; and continue to add sentences until the passage has attained the length desired. The supplementary sentences must either enrich the existing narrative or create a new narrative continuity.

Source: Cape Cod Times, Saturday, April 26th, 2014

Days after finishing
the Boston Marathon
in her mother's memory,
an Osterville woman
discovered that she was not
the only one who crossed
the finish line wearing
her bib number. 

Males of most species of birds migrate north earlier than females.

The nonprofit group
started renovations
at its Dennis farm
this week
and hopes to open
a new retail store
there late this summer.

Police are investigating
after a 40-year-old woman
was found dead
in a homeless camp
on Yarmouth Road
on Friday night.

Birds are on the move everywhere this season.

A group of local
anti-casino advocates
is backing Boston
Mayor Martin J Walsh
as he calls into question
the state's process
for licensing a casino
in its eastern region.
Sox beat the Toronto Blue Jays 8-1 on Friday night.

The farm stand
in Dennis
sells herbs
and produce grown
at the Dennis
and Marstons Mills farms.

The big bad Bruins have made lots of goalies feel sick this year.

Half of all jobs
 in science,
and math require
some form of computing
according to US
Bureau of Labor
statistics from 2010.

The situation is becoming untenable, Scudder said.

Manning says
she was unsure how
her bib number
was stolen, but
she did say that
she posted a picture
of it on facebook
on the Saturday
before the race.

Chance favors the informed observer, especially along the coastline.