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Call This a Moment

We’re here. And your miscounting, mis-naming, misdirecting will not send us home. We’re here. And your distorted information won’t silence us. We’re here. And we know you’re afraid. That’s not our concern. You’ll have to find your way through on your own. We’re here. And we’re about our own business … even as we make it your business. You can call this a moment. Say that week after week, month after month. Act as if you believe it. Are you surprised? After all the bodies you’ve left in the street, can you be surprised? All those bodies, all those bodies, all those bodies. Throw up your hands. Clutch your pearls. Call this a moment. Your denial cannot turn us, cannot quiet us, cannot soften us, cannot diminish us, cannot erase us. We’re here.


As I did last year, I’ll be following along with the Poem-A-Day challenge at Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides Blog. Today’s prompt is to write a “moment” poem. You can post your daily poems on Brewer’s page. The top poem from each day will be included in an anthology later this year!

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Are you writing poems this month? Where can I see them?
Let’s share this craziness!

No Talking

Try

There is no talking to me when I’m like this, when my jaw is set, when I know I’m right. Even when I’m wrong. I stand firm behind the wall of everything I know, everything you haven’t done your homework to find out. I tell myself I know exactly who you are, that I know how you’ll come for me, that I’ll be ready. All my words ammunition-belted across my chest. Ready. There is no talking to me when I’m like this, when my body aches from the tension I hold, when my shoulders are tight with the anger I swallow. Yours. Mine. I need to listen — just listen, not only to you — need to open at least one door. I need to listen, uncurl my fist, remember the feel of my open hands. There is no talking to me when I’m like this, when I’m so tired of the death and denial, when there has been too much silence for too long. Your silence. Mine. There is no talking to me, but you’ll have to break first. Cast your rusty voice, find the fissure, your words in your hand — sharp as pickaxes. Keep talking.


As I did last year, I’ll be following along with the Poem-A-Day challenge at Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides Blog. Today’s prompt is to write a historic poem. You can post your daily poems on Brewer’s page. The top poem from each day will be included in an anthology later this year!

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Are you writing poems this month? Where can I see them?
Let’s share this craziness!

Straighten Up

Must have been fun — that lift-off, that upward flow. Wind in his face, sun warming every muscle. Did it feel like magic? Did it feel like power? And when that bird flew wrong, when that bird turned, tried to break the world in one tip of a wing? And me? Am I monkey or buzzard? Monkey? But sometimes buzzard. I can’t be trusted, and you should know. You’ve seen me, seen how inexorably I downshift, give in to the rush and sway of my limbic brain, send you crashing to ground. Monkey. But sometimes buzzard. Sometimes just not capable of flying right. 


As I did last year, I’ll be following along with the Poem-A-Day challenge at Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides Blog. Today’s prompt is to write a nature poem.

You can post your daily poems on Brewer’s page. The top poem from each day will be included in an anthology later this year!

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Are you writing poems this month? Where can I see them?
Let’s share this craziness!

I think today’s prompt is one I’ve already responded to this month — more than once. Maybe all of that was just practice to get ready for tonight? Not likely.

You’ve Mistaken Me

I’m sorry, have we met? I’m sure I’d remember. Clearly, you think you remember. But no. I am not “sweetness,” “honey baby,” big lover,” “Mama Africa,” “Two Tons of Fun,” “Stuck Up Bitch,”Ugly Bitch,” Angry Bitch,” or “Frigid Bitch.” I don’t know who answers to those names, but I am not the one. I am not here for your foolishness. I am not here for your hate. I am not here for you. Period. You will curse me. You will tell me, as you always do, that you didn’t want to talk to me anyway. And I will walk away smiling.


As I did last year, I’ll be following along with the Poem-A-Day challenge at Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides Blog. Today’s prompts (it’s Two for Tuesday) is to write a “what you are” poem and/or a “what you aren’t” poem.

You can post your daily poems on Brewer’s page. The top poem from each day will be included in an anthology later this year!

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Are you writing poems this month? Where can I see them?
Let’s share this craziness!

File Under “R”

My Brain, the Randomized Generator of Things I Should Have Forgotten

I can never be a scholar, not really, not formally. Not while my brain continues to hold tightly to Super Tramp lyrics and mnemonic devices from sixth grade music class. (Does every good boy deserve fudge? I’m just not sure any more.) I look inside, and I’ve got every ex boyfriend’s birthday neatly ordered on my calendar. Yet, I can’t remember the planning meeting I had last Wednesday. Perhaps my strong suit is my ability to retain useless information, but that is hardly dissertation-worthy. And if it were, somehow, I’m sure I’d get distracted trying to understand why I said “strong suit,” which is not a phrase I normally use. And then I’d start to wonder why anyone says it, where it came from, and what it’s original meaning was. And then I would discover that “strong suit crossword” comes up in the search results, and all would be lost. What were we talking about again?

File under “R” … for “ridiculous,” of course!


As I did last year, I’ll be following along with the Poem-A-Day challenge at Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides Blog. Today’s prompt is to:

take the phrase “My (blank), the (blank),” replace the blanks with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “My Dentist, the Torture Expert,” “My Lunch, the Thing I Got Out of the Vending Machine,” “My Father, the Comedian,” or “My Life, the Punchline.”

You can post your daily poems on Brewer’s page. The top poem from each day will be included in an anthology later this year!

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Are you writing poems this month? Where can I see them? Let’s share this craziness!

The Searchers

So today I received the interesting information, provided by my stats page, that a) somewhere in the world there is a person who actually goes to Google and types “hairs on girls asses” into the search field, and b) that search brings them to my blog.

Back when the internets went all crazy about casting in The Hunger Games movies, I wrote about the sick responses to the casting for Rue, Thresh, and Cinna. One of the screen caps I included in that post was a tweet that described Amandla Stenberg as “an ugly little girl with nappy ass hair.”* And because of that post, people curious about hairy-butt girls stumble into this space.

I always wonder what people who are so obviously not looking for me think when they wind up here. People like the racists who search for, “niggers act like animals,” and end up on my “Only Wild Animals” post. Do they stay and look around a bit? Do they wonder how the Google Gods could have misunderstood them so completely?

I don’t actually want to know the details or daily life of a person who searches for “hairs on girls asses.” That information already tells me more about them than I need or want. Seeing that in my search stats makes me long for a “keep the jackasses and fools out” filter on this page.

While I wait for someone to design that feature … tonight’s attempt at a prose poem. I was talking books this afternoon, so tonight’s poem is about reading.

Between the Lines

Feeding me power. Yes. That word, mindfully chosen. Power. Setting me in motion, my heart alight, my soul traveling. Power. To lead me, push me, cajole me, convince me to care for a sworn enemy. Power. Like hurricane winds, like the first November flurries, like hot spicy tea and a pine-scented fire, like good food. Almost like good sex. Power. Magic. From one hand to my mind. From a single idea to a universe. Power. I drink it and soar — drunk and in love — out of time, out of now. Limitless domains. Limitless dominion.


As I did last year, I’ll be following along with the Poem-A-Day challenge at Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides Blog. Today’s prompt is to write an authority poem. You can post your daily poems on Brewer’s page. The top poem from each day will be included in an anthology later this year!

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Are you writing poems this month? Where can I see them?
Let’s share this craziness!

__________

* Just for the record, Ms. Stenberg in character in the film:Rue_Hunger-Games_Amandla-Stenberg

Sweet or Solid

What’s up with the Poetic Asides prompts this year? They are really not making it for me most of the time. Worse, I spend my time trying to squeeze myself into their restrictions when I know they don’t speak to me, and then I’m caught out at the last minute with no poem and having to compose on the fly. Feh. Just two vowels? Are we in the seventh grade? Are we trying to turn poetry into a game to make it palatable for the youngsters?

Clearly cranky today.

Trust is like masonry, like building a brick wall, like good fences. Piece by piece. One hand extended, another catching hold. Good fences. Like Kaprow’s sweet wall — bread and jam for brick and mortar, I always say my hands are open. If I’m lying, is it to you or to me? Is it that I want to be that person, the one who can still be open? Are these walls brick or bread? The loudest voice inside me is the one that’s stopped believing. Can her hands ever be open? Can mine? And I choose. Sweet or solid. Brick or bread.


As I did last year, I’ll be following along with the Poem-A-Day challenge at Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides Blog. Today’s prompt is to “pick 2 vowels and write a poem using words that only contain one or both of those vowels. For instance, write a poem with words that only have a “u” and “o.” Also, the letter “y” is wild–so the words “my” and “gypsy” are freebies.” You can post your daily poems on Brewer’s page. The top poem from each day will be included in an anthology later this year!

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Are you writing poems this month? Where can I see them?
Let’s share this craziness!

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