In a previous life, I’m pretty sure I perfected the art of bartering. It doesn’t fail me, even in the 21st century. I’m not great at the 21st century. Bartering is the ideal system for me. Based on a very important and flexible system, where value doesn’t involve exchange of money, it seems more equal. I’m naive about exchange of goods for money, though I recognise it has made the world ‘spin around’ for centuries.
The morning after
I explain everything while you’re sleeping;
how I got lost by the river, how the banks were
slippery as eels, how time slipped away, yet
got caught in the weeds at the same time. How
the hooting of owls hypnotized me. How the boat
called me on board; the turbulent water, the throb
of the engine lulled me to sleep.
I was alone, no one touched me, I wasn’t afraid.
When you wake, before I say anything, you assure me
you’d like to tear the lies right out of my throat. I’m
delicately removing splinters, the needle still hot
from the flame. I feel like the rabbit’s foot dangling
from your key chain, the one you shake in my face. Not
lucky; more like severed, more, loss mixed with shame.
On the first day she learned not to wear underwear
or tight jeans: they mark…
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Gloria Gaynor….you made it all so simple! Being let down by people you don’t care about is Water off a Duck’s Back isn’t it? Being let down by People You Thought Were on Your Side….is a bit tougher. But…here we all are…. And there are so many Other People Out There…..who Step Up…..so here we all are ……Doing Much Better than Merely Surviving……
I’ve given up FB for Lent….or forever….time will tell. I’ve given up other things too. Relying on people (I gave up on that a long time ago, but sometimes I need to remind myself.) The thing about FB is…it’s a very crowded room, with everyone talking at the top of their voices. And I don’t like crowded rooms, loud voices….or the way everyone becomes cartoons of themselves.
I’m going to go back to just doing the things I can do: Art. Writing. Caring for animals.
And avoid the things I can’t do: Fitting in. Self-promoting. Believing what people say.
Fab online magazine. My artwork happens to be on the cover 🙂
Welcome to the eighteenth issue! Riggwelter keeps rolling on. This issue contains work from: Christy Alexander Hallberg, Caris Allen, Rosco Baldini, Stephen Briseño, Alyssa Ciamp, Geraldine Clarkson, Rachael Clyne, Jude Cowan Montague, Jessica Siobhan Frank, Samuel T. Franklin, Alison Gibson, Marissa Glover, Fiona Goggin, L. Mari Harris, Emily Harrison, Deborah Harvey, Seanín Hughes, Helen Kay, Kevin Latimer, Janice Leagra, Gayle Ledbetter Newby, Karen Little, Eleanor Mae, Brian Martin, Dan McKeon, Victoria Nordlund, James Northern, Robert Okaji, James Owens, Theresa Reagan, Bethany Rivers, Kelli Simpson, Gerri Stewart and Grace Velee and is edited by Amy Kinsman.
Have I mentioned ‘I am not a silent poet’ webzine? Maybe…..it’s worth checking out…and seeing if some of your poems are a fit…if you are a submitter….or if you like that kind of writing as a reader. This is one of my poems that went up on the site a few months ago. I’m on with a project…art/writing….so it came up today:
Clouds lower, proving the curves of sky in broad strokes.
Sea should soothe, its enviable power override the black dog
bounding towards me. I watch sprite shadows scamper
along sea walls, see him hook twin trout wriggling
on the end of taut lines, reeling them in, hugging
their slippery bodies. I no longer lust after him;
my addiction to unreality, found at the bottom of wine bottles,
gives me extra layers of skin as he flays them.
We’re angry as gulls squabbling over ham baked by the sun.
I’m working towards an exhibition/event. This is one of twenty hand -drawn ink covers…each of which contains a random group of eight of my poems. They will form part of the exhibition. I’m hoping to do some printed versions from the originals….to sell to fund the exhibition. What could go wrong? Nobody giving a fook I suppose. I don’t have the time or people skills to create a fan base…..
Today I have a poem up on Atrium Poetry. I would highly recommend reading and submitting work to this fabulous online magazine….
The Inheritance of Loss afforded him
opportunity to leave her. The Other Hand
was saved for us, shaped how she raised us.
Intimacy meant getting close enough
to have our blocks knocked off. The Great Beast
was tucked behind curtains or under blankets.
Slaughterhouse fueled my nightmares; her
choosing from curtains of meat at Snapes’s
while I gazed at meringues next door in Burton’s.
Topped with angelica, I knew they were reserved
for The Most Beautiful Woman in Town.
Karen Little trained as a dancer and a fine artist. She is widely published as a poet in the UK and further afield.
This is a great online magazine to read (for free) and submit to. A different theme each month. I have four poems in this issue:
A great site to read and/or submit your poems to 🙂
Jets are ready to take off for war; banners advertise the beauty
of cruel weapons. Sticky-pawed children queue to stroke
red-tipped wings, imagine parachute silks floating through
clouds escalating beyond the hangars. Fathers, who won’t watch
them grow, climb into polished seats, their specialist camouflage,
invisible in dark paintings, quivering under the thrust of propellers.
The sky dribbles vibrant colour, drifts through the scenery. Destination
isn’t important when fighting is; challenging the insupportable
outweighs the risk. For gamblers, risk is everything and nothing
at the same time; they can’t imagine not making their mark, won’t be
remembered with the wispy beards and skinny shins of old men.
The end is a plume of dust rising from the tombs of the bewildered.