Everybody Has to Stand for Something.
An older lady on a bus. A pledge.
A judge. Let’s boycott turkeys trussed.
No one has the right to bind our breasts!
Yet, “We must, we must, we must increase
our bust.” Since the seventies: Don’t love
too hard or trust. Oh, give tirades a rest!
Campaigning for you, not US.
The Last Brunch
There are four sisters, or maybe three,
in my apartment on Center in J.P.*
Yet here we are for “Girls’ Day” of fun.
Just Momma and I in 1991.
[Prompt: Ekphrastic poem. On a photo, in this case.]
The Drone of Spring
Automatically, a squirrel chases another up an oak,
but he’s a New England squirrel, still a bit confused
by the snow piles with chirping robins hopping by
to the same drumbeat that a white rabbit seems to be
following, though the silly animal is behind glass with
neon plastic eggs being cracked by sticky miniature
humans whose hard-heeled shoes shine in the sun,
the sun that reveals a primlipped grandmamah
who lacks the lexicon to politely note how the bright
rays reveal what the daughter-in-law neglected to dust.
[Prompt: drone, lexicon, animal, crack, shine. Note that I changed tense or number, etc. so it’s not a proper word poem.]
A Woman with Nothing to Hide
Suffering is welcome, as long as it’s kept in a cool, dark place.
Ditto for complaint-free decomposition, with extra credit
for photos of you, waterside in seafoam gauze, kicking
a seersuckered calf at oncoming waves. Anger sears.
There will be none of that. Bliss is all men ask for
in a lover. It is mostly what regular women crave from
their friends. Yes, there are pockets of counterculture
yahoos flying black freak flags. Crazy is cool unless one
seeks employment or cruises the personals fantasizing
about a man on Sag Harbor who doesn’t crave mystery.
[Prompt: Mental Health and society’s views, etc.]
Revenge of the 21st-Century Bard
It doesn’t cost a cent, unless one is
particularly determined or profoundly
disturbed And we were all raised better.
But every now and again it thrills to give
a trespasser against the spirit his or her
comeuppance, even if only for the the thrill
of having tracked down the scent of reason.
Reasons to write “comeuppance” are rare.
1) My first published poem of 2015!
2) Links to the published books of my autobiographical pentalogy.
[Book II, v.2 of the poetry (trilogy within a trilogy) “A City of Trees” will also be published this spring by ALL CAPS Publishing.]
Book I (memoir)
How a survivor of the 1990s race, class, and gender wars in academe transformed into a middle-aged writer and small-press publisher.
Book II (poetry)
Inspired by the poetry of Charles Bukowski.
Book III (novella)
A love story for people with brains.
3) I’ve finished my novella (Ramshackled), which is more of a novelette, and will be publishing it along with 26 microfiction tales about 26 women (working title: Rosebud).
4) I forgot. I did a lot of bookmaking last year. Exhausting! But it’s nice to see it all booked up this year.
First Night, of course. $10. http://www.firstnightboston.org/
What’s up with me? Writing Moby-Dick poems. Keeping these old bones warm. Looking wistfully out the window for some real snow. Creating sentence fragments. Trying to fix my memoir image, as it keeps showing up backwards. Eep.
Dropping the Mask (Hidden Charm Press, 2014)
Artwork: Copyright 2012 Patricia Wallace Jones
Still recovering from NaPoMo. Here I am reading from my latest poetry collection (What Good’s a View of the Charles…?: poems of tribute 2) on “Willie’s Web Show”). Two months of socializing and event attending. Now back into hiding.
Well, the NaPoMo poems have turned into a chapbook! I’ve been very busy fighting my aching back/neck to do a lot of typing (30 poems plus editing volume three of the poetry trilogy to mail by May 1st); standing and sitting at readings.
So, pictures being worth the thousands words I haven’t posted this month, here are a few thousand words for you 8-)
Mignon Ariel King singing “Dream On” (March 10) in honor of Stephen Tyler’s birthday (March 26) – from the poem “gone girl” in What Good‘s a View of the Charles…? (ALL CAPS Publishing, 2013).
photo by chad parenteau
SURPRISE! I read two poems in the Feature portion at the BPL, Copley for the Boston National Poetry Month Festival. Read two on the open mic too.
With the Co-host of PTAOW (and my pal) Rene Schwiesow. The features Timothy Gager and Chad Parenteau and the open mic were amazing!
April 13, 2014, Plymouth, MA
Happy National Poetry Month! I’ll be writing 30 poems in the next 30 days, posting some of them here. As an added challenge, I’m doing 26 Massachusetts-related poems in alphabetical order. Cuz that’s the kinda Masshole I am!
It isn’t Brookline. Nor Brighton. Between the A-Line
-used-to-be-here streets, fine Swiss sweets or plain
Dunkin crullers. Food from West India. Brazil. Italy.
“Funky” write-ups from new locals on Yelp. Used to be
an embarrassing zip code but full of one-bedroom steals.
So close to Harvard, now: solar-powered condominiums.