Little Vines 5/6/22

Here are this week’s selections.

The vowel condemned to exist
next to a lengthy disturbance
of rowdy consonants

The hazy faint sunshine
and the timid shadow
that scurries behind me

Tonight in apartment 419
The naïve The restless The I wish I had stayed home
party in uneasy proximity

Recipe for trouble: Boil up some hot tempers
Vent the steam, condense and bottle the liquid
Drink it and start things all over again

A beautiful day
flashes past beneath us We the oblivious
passengers in this high-flying airplane

I left out the salt in the soup
you cried

patchy shadows passing over the moon
the clouds a cargo of feather pillows
burst and scattered across the sky

What lovely day
orbits around the sun
the day you are born

late at night the woman
curdles up with a good book
of blood-chilling ghoul stories

This tiny island
This wondrous fish who guards it
How I love the world the baby’s bath toys make real

your imagination is a pauper
pouring the ideas it can scarcely afford to waste
into a bucket full of holes

The foghorn bellows again. I look in my purse.
No ship at sea but instead the phone
alerting me to the danger of your incoming call

in my nightmare I talk to you
but only through a locked window
you resurrected fly I swatted dead this morning

the mud
the pig luxuriates

The freeze-the-blood-in-your-veins novel
I read before bed. The three blankets under which
I scream in my dreams.

The cold moonscape of
not soon enough
is a kinder place than you might think

Remember that movie where the actor wore a
woolly coat like my ex-husband’s bathrobe
Bleated like him too? I quit his fan club after that.

A warlock wastes a whistle
A turtle tangles twine A sleep-walking sheep snores
It’s hard to concentrate here in the open-plan office

the man ruminates
chewing over indignities and his bag of pretzels, both
the bartender sighs

fidgeting in the hazy dark
vile nightmares ready to go
massed in ranks and plans of attack

Rogues purr, cracking jokes,
but it’s the afterlife
who snickers.

singing around the burning firewood with a
yearning swift and strong when memories rise
the guitars vanish everyone sobs and I think
What a wretched lot of wet blankets we have at this campfire

zombies: the rambling broods
of the raving rotting brainless
how I love their intellectual honesty

no matter what day it is now
only a few hours ago
it was a different day

8 thoughts on “Little Vines 5/6/22

  1. I very much relate to #5812 and #5818. My husband does not understand why I find things like crime thrillers and horrors – whether books or movies – to be so relaxing and soothing but it has always been the case that I find those genres chill me out. #5826 made me laugh!

    • Thank you. I have always liked horror stories and crime thrillers (though I admit to feeling like more and more of today’s works less engrossing maybe because I am not as interested in books focusing on characters in their 20’s or 30’s, I feel too far from that world). There is nothing like being in bed in a very quiet house late at night reading….scary stories….!!!

    • I have definitely been to that party and in fact I think pretty much any party I go to I have some period of time at least where I just want to be at home and everything feels strange…And the last one, I wrote it kind of flippantly and then I realized…it makes a lot of sense to me. I’m going to try to remember it as advice to myself.

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