Master of Disguise

At the same time, what I can only imagine is a full-out attack from the Nigerian scammer army, I began to get 6-8 chat requests from people unknown to me a day. Men, really good-looking, age-appropriate men attempted to chat me up. How nice. It must be my new night cream. A response gives the stranger access to your account. In other words, you are in a fortified castle and lowering the gate, inviting the enemy to come in for a sitdown and biscuits.

Eyes Open

One night after the open mic, we took note and began to speculate who these mysterious people could be.  What was their story? Did they know each other?  Were they once married?  My favorite theory was it was God, curious about the Bellingham Poetry scene. 

Poem: Long Kiss Goodbye

I see a fish on a platter
in the center of my table
garnished with onions, lemons
a cut of dill and salt
The first cut into its flakey flesh,
soft bones gently come out from hiding
between the sedimentary chunks
and gems of peppercorn

Nosy Nostalgia

Typically I would find a booth, and hang out with a book, notepaper, and pen. Read, eat, and write. …and listen. My confession to the faithful 67 followers, I am nosy. I enjoy listening to the way people talk to each other, the rhythms, the tone. Two poems came out of this “hobby”. I’d like to share them with you today.

Corridor Celebrates!

We did it! Over 27 poets, 5 artists, +400 copies of the 10-paged zines printed and distributed over 13 months from Poetry Month 2022 to Poetry Month 2023! This month marks the final zine in this fun project. Over the next few weeks, I will share four of my favorite poems submitted to Corridor and submitted artwork as a remembrance of the year’s moments.

March Corridor

The March edition of Corridor is out and about. Please keep your eyes out for it around town. It’s a little 5×7 10-page zine, sitting there, wanting to wish you a good day. One more zine to go and the project will end. Poetry Month 2022 to Poetry Month 2023.

“Moss” is a sample of a poem in the zine. Hope you enjoy it.

Poem: THIS

The exhale of a horse steams up the imagination, relieves the tension

in my shoulders as Atlas sets the earth down for dinner.

The night is young and there is mischief afoot

The busy-squeak of a mouse shuffles the bush

climbs down into the trails under blackberry roots