paper, rock, scissors

i kind of like it
when my dog’s fur
smells like corn chips
a familiar childhood
lunch bag wadded in a ball

and i can withstand my salty
grasshopper brothers
coming in for supper
with damp earth shirts
&sticky arms tattooed
from hurtling rocks
at the doberman pinschers

and when it thunders
&rains real simple, well
i kind of like that
shear smell too,
because it’s faint &remote

and not at once mud


for dVerse


i’ve been living this way for more than 10,000 years i think

and i don’t even know
how i am doing it
prancing to the playground
calling dibs on the swings
hanging fancy words
on the jungle gym bars
flipping my hair forever free
from real-life verbs
like rush and race

i go hunting-up some honey
which is always given
after i learned how to poise
my asking to approximate
kindness i simply need
to borrow from the bees

and pay no attention to
Jon Lucas, the pissy pirate
to all the pretty posey girls
(he only likes saying
I can see your underwear)

in the whole scheme of things
what you think is the next to
the last thing, never really is
Jon, if you keep on twirling
10,000 more days, months, or
years, — honest to god this is
the easiest way,

29: NaPoWriMo and Real Toads

thinking about the place where we lived

a church on the corner
reminded us that God
was as close to us as
my little brother’s
stinky friend
Larry McDowell
(the other corner-dweller)

playing it again for MZ at Real Toads

Low Water Bridge &Mud Creek

It wasn’t a fence we wanted to jump
but a bridge we wanted to ride.
Every man, woman, teen or toddler
in Abilene went down low water
bridge one way or another.
One time, a kid rolled his trike down
&got a spanking from his Grandma
when he got home. Bigger high school
boys tested their skateboarding skills
down low water, pushing aside worries
over washout holes &no helmets.
Another time, a man put his VW bug
in neutral to see if he would come out
on the other side without any juice.
Even I rode down low water almost
every single day on my girl’s bike
with two quarters tucked under
my fingers to pay admission to the
swimming pool on the other side.
I had my terms: I’d pull up hard
on the handlebars, gain enough speed
straight-up pedaling like a devil or else
get off my bike &walk in shame
with one of mom’s bath towels hanging
around my neck. If it didn’t rain, if
low water didn’t get washed out I mean,
I’d pedal to swim in the pool, or else
I’d swim &fish for crawdads right there
in Mud Creek. Either way, Mother Nature
wanted my feet to get wet that summer.

(for Quickly)

Some Things in Particular

When I was younger,

some things in particular

tasted like green sound:

Celery crunch in my teeth,

Binaca blast in his mouth.

For Toads and


At Jennifer’s House

Allie Brosh's "Hyperbole and a Half"

Allie Brosh’s “Hyperbole and a Half”

At Jennifer’s house there were Barbie’s I neither liked nor understood. Also a poofy dog.

At Jennifer’s house we ate salad with oil & vinegar dressing, but her mom got cancer. So salad didn’t count for much, did it?

At Jennifer’s house there was an upstairs bathroom. We poured liquids from her mom’s medicine cabinet into the bathtub to get a good fizz going, but once we walked in on her mom connecting something to her private parts over the toilet with a string or a tube, so instead we went outside to hang upside-down on her swing set and laughed at this other girl for letting her boobies show when she tried to do like we did.

Between Jennifer’s house and mine was a tree I made her climb and she broke her leg.  She still let me come over after that, and even after I told her to get naked for no apparent reason. Of course, I blamed the naked Barbie’s.

At Jennifer’s house I vacuumed her mom’s rug, which may have made up for my terrible lack of judgment and bossiness as her superior nine-year old neighbor. Jennifer moved away after she got off her crutches.

Jennifer invited me to her new house and her dad let us run behind his truck with the tailgate down so we could hop in the back.

Jennifer’s mom didn’t live in the new house. She wasn’t living at all. Their poofy dog was there. None of it made any sense.

For Real Toads

i used to sing in my bedroom

&i was happy beyond all reason
beyond all crabgrass &homemade curtain
with bits-o-honey saved back on my shelf
farrah fawcett’s teeth were smiling at me

i was a horse with a mop for a mane
jumping puddles &jumping real hurdles
i practiced a hook shot over and up
and when it’s best to leap off from a swing

i raked the untouchable skies back then
i had no reason to think of the sea
with peas &carrots on brown china plates
thoughts on a ceiling; free-floating as dreams

and yes actually, i had a tree
with bendy branch for an elevator
above dad’s pompas grass &blue fescue
my bones willed themselves to be un-broken

i could go /toe-to-toe/ in /tic-tac-toe/
with anne murray or helen of ready
spinning their gold upstairs in my room
i was happy &little bit heady

[linking with Poets United & Poetic Asides]

No Love Lost


I hated her running around
and strange men coming
from all around just to
smell her cheap perfume

When I turned sixteen
I left her
&checked into
the state mental hospital
only I kinda wish I didn’t

Too many experimental drugs
&no-nothing nurses who
really just taught me
the manners mom never
got around to sharing

When I learned them right
&pulled my-selves to-gether
they said I could leave;
and I was all too glad

After a whole year
of locking myself away from
freedom &direct sunlight
I was ready to do
another terrible thing

I kinda wish I didn’t
walk down the street to
a nice ladies shop to buy
mom that new dress

I’ll be damned if
she don’t even remember
that dress– in a box when upon
opening looking just like the sun
melted in buttery ribbons

for Poetic Asides

&the lizard lives

forgive me
   for dashing

magic lizards
   broken tails
      empty girls

false hopes
   crooked feet

   my undoing
      breaking this

go ahead
      straight into

i am the lizard
   i am great Houdini
      &the lizard 
[my old lizard poem I once hated, but images-2
changed my mind. submitted to Real Toads,
NaPoWriMo & Poetic Asides]


swirling down the drain
 bubbles like ballerinas~
 one more childhood ends

Prompt at Blogging U