“Precisionist” She learned the geometry first from painting skyscrapers, mathematics clean and focused like a camera lens — hers was a world void of condition, social or human, and soon danced the abstractions in front of her unblinking eye. Each winter, a pilgrim to New Mexico, she yearned to see the forest inside the desert […]
day 21 of MyNaPoWriMo 2011 (write a poem a day) Read More »
Electra coins a phrase At first she thought she should be in the children’s picture dictionary under “daddy’s girl” but couldn’t make it fit without a lengthy history of her family troubles; and she was tired of the cable channels rehashing the war twenty-four hours a day. She thought about modeling, being the face of
day 20 of MyNaPoWriMo (write a poem a day!) Read More »
Mirror, mirror The broad was getting older by the proverbial minute; as much as the story is about her vanity and how she couldn’t handle any competition and whatnot, what about the friggin’ king? It was his daughter living in so-called sin with seven guys — nothing more than a glorified housekeeper too. What you
day 19 of my napowrimo2011 (write a poem a day!) Read More »
Woman as night The changes were subtle, twilight to dusk to midnight, hour by hour, light gradually fading until darkness was so vivid she could not even see the hands in front of her – suddenly immense, she was everywhere at once, seeing all and being seen but strangely free to move and listen, and
day 18 of mynapowrimo (write a poem a day for a month) Read More »
S. What if she’d never learned to read the signs from birds, or the letters sent back and forth between the stars; what if she’d never really seen the shadows behind the stories or listened to the wind as it carpeted the desert – and watched it twirl its way to a courtship with the
Day 17 of MyNaPoWriMo (write a poem a day for a month!) Read More »
“Self-Portrait with cropped hair” She wished she could distract him from the others, their perfumes permeating the air, infecting everything she touched or ate or drank; she wished she could wash away their dirt from her own skin; she knew he admired her fierce eyes, the country within her, the way her hair swayed like
day 16 of MyNaPoWriMo (Write a poem a day for a month!) Read More »
Gretel Truth is they weren’t twins, she was older by years and he was sickly; she overheard their weak-minded woodcutter father, and that nasty shrew he married; she collected pebbles that first night and lead her brother home; she saved her own bread the next time to make a crumbly trail; she was the one
day 15 of MyNaPoWriMo (write a poem a day for a month!) Read More »
Helen of 110th and Amsterdam No ships came for her yet she stared at the crowds as if facing the sea, expecting no one and nothing to look at her as they hurried by, heads bobbing at the crosswalk; day after night she knelt on concrete, holding a cardboard placard with “Spare Change” painted on
Day 14 of MyNaPoWriMo (write a poem a day for a month!) Read More »
The white queen Caroling through the mall, we come across the costume store and see through the glass darkly that it is lost in a children’s book, all rabbits in waistcoats and watch fobs. We find the chess board, life-sized and in cool marble; hear her looking for her daughter, and counting the hours backward
Day 13 of MyNaPoWriMo (write a poem a day for a month) Read More »
Queen E, i Virginity was a big asset – no man was worth the crown or a coup or one’s own neck; after all, Boleyn ran in her blood; immortality was dependent on no direct heirs, a regal look, a lifetime of supporting those sonnet-writing bards. i saw a portrait of Queen ELizabeth I in
Day 12 of MyNaPoWriMo (write a poem a day for a month!) Read More »
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