The underbelly of the business lunch: A #poem for VP #Pence
I don’t usually write satirical poems, but VP Pence’s unwillingness to have lunch alone with a woman who is not his wife called for it. It’s hard not to lampoon this administration.
Tag: #amwriting
Call it “the remains of winter”
Remember the girl I said I’d found? The poet-warrior? She refused to stick around. Let’s call it “the remains of winter.” Let’s call it “Trump administration.” Let’s call it #$%?!@*!!
The girl with a fighting chance
Paying attention to all of it reminds me that I am of the world. It’s easy for me to live in my head. And while I enjoy retreating there — and need to sometimes because the world can feel too crowded — ultimately it untethers me in a bad way. I need to be in my body.
A poem in which the poet wears a red dress for the apocalypse or whatever
Here / trying to enact what they mean when they say Let’s cross over. / If I write about the butterfly you’ll think I want to be one But who are you
A poem about the trouble with November
Who am I in all this / to feel love so abundant? This morning, a tree / on my lawn catches the sun. It sits in bare branches / like a bright ball of yarn I want to keep in a basket / even though I can make nothing of it.
Inspiration for poems: The poetry of outer space
Outer space, spinning, breath. It’s poetry all on its own without us having to do a thing, but of course we can’t help ourselves. “The universe” — the literal universe — isn’t easy to write about, but it always delights me to attempt it (or at least work it into something).
A poem about two people in a tent
This poem (draft) is quite a bit more gentle — and certainly more sentimental — than is normal for me. Today, apparently, the muse has a fondness for camping.