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Y’all, we’re gettin’ hitched proper this time!

art literature poetry sociology Uncategorized

my poetry waits quietly in my pocketbook

happiness is
turning my moments
of inspiration
Pinterest sessions
where one may choose
cakes made from edible flowers
lavender lovely
make wedding centerpieces
from hemp rope,
vintage coffee sack burlap,
and the discarded
quilt pieces of the
Daughters of the American Revolution
my poetry waits quietly
in my pocketbook
content in my joy
encouraging me
to be my own woman
a connoisseur of literature
a goddess of wine
Dionysus triumphant
a suburban expatriate
who refuses to put a rug
on her toilet lid
born to a people who do

Americana poetry

judgment and peppermints

Winter has been left

at the altar

by Spring

in a Kentucky church

full of faded wood panels

battered hymnals

pews creaking with

suspicious Baptists aghast

carrying tissues

judgment and peppermints

in pocketbooks

bathed in beams

of stained glass light

containing confederate

dust particles descending

certain of

gossiping daffodils

and death






Americana family sociology Southern Gothic writing

tennessee glory land

i don’t know

what heaven looks like

but it can’t be far off

from this

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

something blue

i’m so sick
of this marketing campaign
to make marriage and child bearing
seem like the utmost a woman may attain
beyond a degree from college

as if life will be as breezy and pristine
as a morning talk show segment

where they tell you how happy and excited
you should feel over a pretty princess wedding dress
so expensive it could feed a third world county
for a week
and the promise of stainless steel appliances
to follow

yes begin your life indebted
spend thirty grand on the ceremony and reception
spare no expense
as it will be one of the last days you’ll feel pretty

thoughts of how lovely
the bridesmaids looked
and the lemon raspberry cake
will carry you through those moments
of doubt
as you scrub the grass stains out of your loving husband’s socks
and his feces from under the rim of the toilet

while he sits in his recliner
waiting for dinner
feeling trapped

give up the dreams you had
the day you signed up for freshman english
make no mistake
a career comes second
your job is to give life to new consumers

focus on the best diaper pail
to contain your little angel’s shit smell

find the most realistic bottle feeding system
for when your nipples are too cracked and bloody to be suckled

should be enough
to feel fulfilled

and pretty please with sugar on top
buy into all the hype about how giving birth
is the most beautiful thing you’ll ever experience

at home or in a hospital
submerged in water
or perched upon
the latest designer
baby crapping equipment

you will feel like the belle of the ball
as you vomit over the bedside
shit and piss yourself as you push push push
and experience the magic
of your flesh ripped apart
from your vagina to your asshole

and as soon as those stitches heal
back on your horse, cowgirl

go back to work because
you’re not a woman if you can’t manage
this domestic three ring circus

leave your baby at a daycare for ten hours a day
you’ll be sure it’s the next best thing
to a baby bonding with its mother

yes, young lady
it will all be perfect

until the first
grade school diagnosis
mass lay-off
and house fire

makes you question
why you didn’t run away
from the altar screaming

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

death in a doll house

as i write


death perpetually sits in

the corner of my room

reading freud’s conceits


or when he’s feeling particularly




he is an old man now

as our time together is deep

smelling of camphor and whiskey

and cologne deemed a sin during biblical times


my constant companion

since the age of six

we have many times shared plastic play set high tea

and brushed barbie  hair

forced emily dickinson to eat bugs together


death in a doll house


he taught me long division

and later how to drive

bustled my prom dress

stood in the empty place

for the father daughter dance

at my halloween horror wedding

then sent me to mortuary college


how easily he became

my every electrified motivation


i so willingly devoured the

chocolate covered cherries

sugar-coated just for me


he has me hooked

on his sick sentimentality


luxuriating in the loss

agony so sweet upon the palate

injected into veins long desiccated

living in skin of unnatural colors


all i  wanted was a mommy in the kitchen

a daddy in the den

children in the treehouse

a reckless devil in hell

and a responsible god in heaven


so when it all died

i tried to become it

and i have failed


though i have receipts that reflect an attempt at a life lived

spanning the miles between California and New Jersey



he smiles at me wickedly

with his three good teeth

and says


remember baby girl

you will die

in the same place

you began


fearing unknown noises in the hall


right here