Poetry at 50, in the US, as a woman [white], 2021, during a pandemic, in a glorious & painful spring, a flash poem, in four parts

Poetry at 50, in the US, as a woman [white], 2021, during a pandemic, in a glorious & painful spring, a flash poem, in four parts

1. Our flags always fly at half-mast now.Wide and unhealed wounds on high for the world to seeflap dripping loss and pus rains down into the public square. Below themwhite men, whips still in handand a few hard-yoked women, their heads downplodding alongfacing only...

Pandemic Emotions, September 2020

Pandemic Emotions, September 2020

This is for Bayo, who prompts me to be more honest and open, more me, and to let go into becoming more us... Some friends are saddened right now by humanity's apparent reactionary rush to re-occupy familiar ways during this Covid-19 global pandemic (known as the Great...

What I’m Made Of

What I’m Made Of

Thanks for the fun prompt, Natalie Kinsey! I wrote this poem for fun two years ago, on January 9, 2017. Just re-found it. Forgot to publish it. Whoops. Since it still rings true, seems worth publishing now... What I'm Made Of I am made almost entirely of open sky ...

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