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At the interview
J’s hired on the spot, full of
new employee glee.
Has it really been
a month since I told you all
about my day, dear?
Deciding who to
take like negotiating
Mideast peace treaty.
From a Revealing
start to this auspicious point -
my life in short form.
Muddy quads, walls bare
of ivy still inspire awe.
Can we get in?
Haiku, like bonsai,
needs care and pruning. A mind
unfocused kills both.
Wan, pale, red-eyed, she’s
the poster wife of Wynette’s
song, “Stand By Your Man.”
When a righteous man
is caught with his pants down, it’s
likely he’ll get spanked.
It’s said women swoon
at his rallies, yet his wife
once called him stinky.
I am the dull one, struck
mute by accomplishment
what I do, nothing.
a dilemma of
riches in tiny topaz
the art of language
“Read my poem? Please?”
In real life I’d get blank stares.
Here, you’re back for more.
Just over five months
This one four hundred fifty
Art or wasted time?
A haiku a day?
Not quite. Some days the tap runs,
some days it’s bone dry.
Headgear gone wild I
tip my hat to idiots
who have flipped their lids.
Reclaiming the word,
she grabs the bitch by the horns
and makes us all proud.
With all this trash talk
even the winner comes out
smelling like garbage.
see also Constant reader
Like a lover who
wanders I return here to
check in now and them
Today J begins
flying not yet a driver
the sky’s the limit
See democracy
happen. It happens if you
exercise your right.
My civic duty
called. Yesterday, I answered.
Pat, Ossie, Art helped.
I go into the
booth knowing the past, making
the future my choice.
Her face fronted a
movement, a magazine. My
mind’s jaw drops in awe.
He had a dream but
his murder was our nightmare.
It’s time to wake up.
Cleaning is like con-
fession. You’re surprised by dirt
under the surface.
I stop posting in
the blogosphere. No one reads
me. Do I exist?
Today was her last
day on a job I said ‘don’t
quit’ two years ago.
Some men hug, but G
envelopes, holds tight, then gives
back more than he takes.
They create out of
nothing whole scenes, entertain
from mere suggestions.
To eat or not to
eat? My stomach says yes, my
hips scream don’t you dare.
Should I say what I
feel, or what attracts readers?
Tempting to sell out.
Like a cracked eggshell,
once broken it cannot be
redeemed nor reforged.
I’m the kitchen air
traffic controller, and the
oven my runway.
Don’t you know no girls
allowed? Threaten the big boys,
they call you a bitch.
I’d have crossed party
lines for you ’til today. Where
was your chivalry?
Coffee with M is
a reminder of what smart
women are about.
Guy next to me walked
out to take a call. His life
opened on his Dell.
Secrets like splinters
lodged down deep tear you apart
from the inside out.
S will travel with
me, security-blanket
friend I’m blessed to have.
Write about ‘em and
stats go up. I try not to
let this affect me.
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