Category Archives: Poetry

Salad in Suburbia

By Posted in Food, Poetry Tagged , Leave a comment

The pitted date unfolds like a broken cicada skin. Whirring and helpless memories of old houses stunt the burn of lemon juice finding the cracks in my skin; traveling through canals of age. I’ve been here for thirteen years. I’ll be here for thirteen more. Cilantro stems like spindly locust legs unfurl over parsley and pistachio; cling to smooth Pyrex. Food fills a space once lushly loved yet now untouched. In the bowl, it seems, the insects emerge winged and intoxicated; dripping lemon and sherry; glistening oil; sustaining pristine cithara string notes. Ache is all there can be no matter what the species. We sing these songs so long that we die and never notice.

There’s More Up Her Sleeve Than Her Elbow

By Posted in Gender Equity, Income Inequality, Poetry Tagged , , , 2 Comments

Tweed and divination take up all her free time. She shadows
scoundrels and crooks at top speed, top down,
engine rumbling, wind ravishing her pin-curled spun gold.
She’s not duped by the detours this time.
 
She won’t lose her shirt over this scoop.  She’s been up against it.
Deep in it with the boys. She’s sleuthed out all of it–
heads shot off, counterfeit schemes, smuggled tablets,
cons and cover-ups in Chinatown. Something else is driving
 
her mind set behind arched eyebrows and blue-black
pancake mascara. Got her eyes on a new lead. Not the same old
double-cross racket at that track in Jersey. Got a tip
about some shady masculinist macroeconomic construct
 
or some other such scam. She grows tomatoes in her dooryard,
raises chickens in the back, buys her fruit local. She’s working
double-time, and not just because hard work is its own reward.
She’s got ink in her blood. If only she were married.
 
She could sit down and, in her ever flowing, feather trimmed ethereal
house gown, eat chocolates from the bowl next to the vase
full with roses–bought locally. Languish. Alas, she is merely
engaged to Mr. McBride–who doesn’t bring home
 
his whole damn dollar. The lug. Our heroine buys her own
chocolates and bowl, roses and vase, hairpins and gowns,
pancake mascara. This is Torchy Blane. There’s more up her sleeve
than her elbow–and it better be her 40 damn cents.

You Are More

By Posted in Call to Action, Poetry Tagged , Leave a comment

You are more than subdivided rolling concrete hill and grassy chemical lawn. You are more than commuter, television watcher, couch sitter, isolated minivan driver, bored teenager, lonely retiree, soccer mom. You are more than PTA, High School sporting event, strip mall, fast food, traffic jam, pollution, petroleum junkie, rabid sprawl. You are more than compliance code, bylaws, community calendar, neighborhood watch. You are more than the hour and thirty minutes you drive to get to the city. You are more than the hour and thirty minutes you drive to get away and relax. You are more than your car. You are more than your beautiful house. You are more than your isolation. You are more than what you have been told to consume. You are more than your government. You are more than the lies they have told you. You are more.

You are lover. You are friend. You are citizen. You are also the people. You are dream. You are promise. You are prayer. You are nature. You are energy. You are alive. You have a soul. You have power. You have dignity. You are meant to be free. You are meant to be peace. You are meant to be united with all. You have a voice. You have a responsibility. You are made for love. You must wake up. You must sleep no more. Awaken. Now is the time.