Tick-less Inaudible clacking of clavier keys. Inarticulate tapping of talons on eves. Chattering leaves, grey in the gutter. A battery wilts while watch hands sputter. Jostling toothpicks in kitchenette drawers— I hear them all. The universe snores. —M.M.
When the heatwave hit Nebraska the cows keeled over dead— Not really dead, but nearly dead, (at least that’s what the farmers said) when the heat wave hit Nebraska. When the heatwave hit Nebraska the cornfields went bone dry— Not real bones, just dirt and stones. The baking skies were filled with moans when the... Continue Reading →
You can’t have this poem. I called it first. Shotgun. No do-overs. Can’t be reversed. It’s mine—finders keepers. It’s mine—pinky swear. It’s mine—losers weepers. Sorry. Life isn’t fair. I thought it first. I went and picked it. You sure you still want it? That’s why I licked it. -M.M.
The apple tree and me. The two of us: me, beneath the tree but not in the shade; the tree, beneath the sun but not in the light. Clouds over me and the apple tree, which makes three: the clouds, the apple tree, and me. Or four—if you count the sun. But really,... Continue Reading →
Painting With I don’t like the yellow wind— all hot and rough, brittle, fond of sawdust and spinning. I much prefer the blue wind that caresses and smooths, sweeping away the sweat and the afternoon. The white wind keeps me up at night, echoing in my teeth and unsettling my bones like... Continue Reading →
Riddle A compendium of trinkets Cleverly arranged To terrify the blinking, Backward, and estranged. Call it reverse amnesia, Call it spoil-sport, But the rarest of all riddles Is that with no retort. -M.M.
Prometheus Bring us fire. Bring us light. Bring us knowledge. Steer us right. Good and evil, feed us fruit, Tempt us with a parachute. Crash and burn, burn and char, scourge us hence, near and far. We will curse thee. We will rage. We will write upon the page. We will open up the... Continue Reading →
Pocket lint Pocket lint is love: cozy, secret, and inexplicable, buried in every person's pocket, a puff of imagination. Some do not care for it. They flick it away, emptying their pockets of feeling, while others collect it, stashing it close to their soul where it can breathe and thrive. It may... Continue Reading →