if i could have anything back
any part of his essence
i would want
his laugh
as life without it has been
no life at all
Category: communication
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Americana Art astrolabe astronomy baseball writing beauty belief biology books cartography cemeteries childhood Christmas chronology civility comfort communication confections corsets dance death digital art digital photography divinity Europe fairy tales family fashion fauna feminism festivities fucking funerals geneology geography gratitude happiness history holidays human behavior humanity iconography journalism Kentucky life literature local color love love poetry mindfulness mourning muse Music mythology non-fiction Ohio ornithology painting Paris photography poetic theory poetry pop culture publishing punk relationship studies relationships religion rituals romance seasons self-love sexuality shooting stars society sociology Southern Gothic technology thanatology The British Royal Crown theology tomes traditions travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends
Y’all, we’re gettin’ hitched proper this time!
Kentucky thoroughbred
wild flower covered
rose wreathed
bluegrass hills
day lilies praying to face the sun
white horse fences on Derby Day
mint julep
drinking celebrities
wearing too much makeup and cloying colognes
spectator hats
pastel bow ties, open toed
espadrille intentions painted perfectly
round pen prancing
such breeding,
& the horses are pedigreed too.
The world of Man O’ War and
My uncle,
Etheridge Spaw,
my family’s last great horseman
elder statesman
until we got a jockey and horsewoman
in my niece, a true princess.
Etheridge had a voice like thunder
booming across a valley
melodic, bellicose, bass baritone
a cowboy hat the size of god
and a cherry wood pipe to match
stories of blood relations
unfurling in his pipe smoke
soothsayer
prince of our family
your memory I cherish
thoughts of you, on a faraway farm
just this side of a Kentucky heaven.
Bless and keep us through the days to come, uncle,
and thank you, kindly.
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Ha!! Me, too…
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Abelard and Heloise activism Americana animals Anne Boleyn astrolabe astronomy baseball writing battle beauty belief bibliophilia biology books botany California cartography cemeteries childhood Christmas chronology cinema civility coffee comedy comfort communication confections corsets crime criminal behavior dance death desserts destruction deviance digital art digital photography divinity domestic violence drawing ecology education electoral process English epicuriosity epidemeology Europe fairy tales family fashion fauna feminism festivities fiction film food forensics fucking funerals furniture geneology geography girl stuff good reads government government and a lack thereof gratitude Halloween happiness health Hell history holidays human behavior iconography Jazz journalism kindness kinetics Lent life literature local color love poetry medicine mindfulness mortuary sciences mourning muse museums Music mythology nature non-fiction Ohio ornithology painting pandemics papyrus parenthood parenting Paris performance photography physics poetic theory politics pop culture produce psychology public broadcasting publishing punk puppies reading red hair in the morning, fucker grab a cab relationship studies relationships religious studies reproductive rights rituals romance science science writing seasons self-care self-love sex sexism sexuality shitty shit shooting stars Short Stories slang society sociology sociopathology Southern Gothic Southern Living suicide technology thanatology the arts The British Royal Crown theatre theism theology tomes traditions travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends vice war waste weddings women words writing
Poof* Take MY water
Categories
no demons may cross my cumberland gap
you can’t get from her desert south west to kentucky
the archway of plenary indulgence is not her path
demons choked on fear and comeuppance lose their way
oh ye of little faith
was there ever any doubt
Jesus was from Elyria
that Ostara was from Kentucky
and that Lazarus was from Newark, NJ
but he got stuck in traffic for 10 years
on the high roads of rt. 80
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absent without leave
who can sleep
through the raging silence
of all our canceled parties
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How Isabella Conquers Her World
you have descended
from indigenous medicine women
and girl scout goddesses
you came into this life
with power that takes growing
into
head held high
with strong female role models
confidence you will cultivate
by surviving pain
rising to challenges
you’re finding out
you’re stronger than you know
by
creating your own peace
owning your joy
making happiness your choice
remembering you have endured
their belittling words
because
they need to feel better than you
because they have nothing to be proud
how sad is that
pity them
waste no time on bitterness
take comfort
people like this are their own reward
you will rise above their words
you will outlive their petty hearts
the world fears all shades of women and girls
who believe in themselves
do not ever give a bad person
the power
to make you feel like
you are less
to make you ashamed of the way you are woven into the fabric of our universe
or that it is anything but
perfectly divine
to be you
little things get left
behind
that’s where love hides
when you least expect
it’s just tears over pepperoni and onions
every night you were away
i sought you out
through blackberry bramble ether
from weeping constellations above dixmyth avenue
to jessamine county barns filled with horse hay
perpetually wrapping blue ribbon around my finger
whispering vespers
my plea to the particles of the universe
to hold you together
to bring you back from oblivion
as you had done for me
you are my chosen family
inextricably part
of my thunderous heart
to which you will always hold the latchkey