Sunday, July 23, 2017

Word Worm2 -Random Acts of Writing

   Because of the hole in her heart she had to be wary of items falling in. It simply wouldn't do to use a bent coat hanger to poke around in there, amidst arteries and aortas and other vital parts. Best to be careful from the beginning, posting caution signs around the cardiac sinkhole.

     To be sure, it was an attack of The Positive People. At first she didn't know what hit her but then slowly, as she recovered, it dawned on her. They were unfailingly - some might say militantly-chipper and aggressively optimistic. Her wounds were internal, a sense of failure because she had allowed-and The Positive People knew it-feelings that were less than positive.

     Wondering when the "write local" movement will take hold and what it will mean for my writing. Should I start foraging for wild words? I know there are some feral words nearby but they might be hard to catch unless I set a trap and what would I use for bait to entice them? Perhaps I should attempt to raise my own phrases - cage-free, of course.


Sunday, July 9, 2017

Word Worms

Word Worms

     Soon the words will build up and I will have to let them out because it really wouldn't do to run around with words attempting to poke out of my body, like word worms crawling out after feasting on my innermost thoughts and feelings and then-gorged and dying-commit literary hair kari on a white shroud of paper, their desiccated bodies one final expression of angst, a calligraphy of pain.

Word Worm1
     She must have thought that, within 2 minutes of meeting her, I needed to know about her knee surgery, her failed store and kitchen remodel. So much information spilled out I almost tripped over it. Her running commentary interfered with my ability to peruse her garage sale and I fled to my car, slamming the door to prevent unwanted data from infecting me.


Friday, June 16, 2017

Donald's Lament plus Two Haiku

Donald's Lament

When I think of Comey
my mouth gets all foamy,
my fingers tremble and twitch
I do have such an itch
cuz when I'm all bitter
I must take to Twitter
and send a tweet
not at all sweet.

Receipt acknowledged-
gift of yellow-rumpled warbler
present at birdbath.

In the heart of June
I could marry Alaska,
divorce in winter.


Thursday, May 25, 2017

Tiny 'tudes*

*bits of gratitude ='tudes

For my sister Lisa Holthaus Valentine and her ongoing commitment to gratitude. See her blog at habitualgratitude.

Dry right now
can't handle
big gulps of gratitude,
but can quell
my thirst for appreciation
with tiny 'tudes.
Will savor
sips of flavor
thru the day
and feed my
appetite for wonder
with liitle plates
of thanks
artfully arranged,
garnished with grace.
For dessert
I shall devour
one divine sweetness,
a final tiny 'tude.

Wishing you lots of tiny 'tudes and some big ones too.
Here are some of mine:
-the adorable, questioning sound my cat Oscar makes
-the baby green heads of perennials breaching the soil
-fun words like: petulant, flummoxed, prattle

Please share your 'tudes.
A big thank you!


Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Drive by Fruiting plus 3 bird poems

Driveby Fruiting

Menu announces
that Charlissa's French Toast*
is topped with honey cream cheese
and swerved
with a side of raspberries.
Hope no injuries occurred.
At least it wasn't
a head-on collision
involving blueberries
or a sideswipe
by strawberries.

*Charlottes cafe in Kenai, AK

Playing hide and seek
when I want a closer look-
shy little sparrow.

That cheeky bird*
tarted up in brash colors
proclaiming cheeriness-
doesn't he know
gray is the color today?
My sister is sick
and still he persists
in brightness.

* Western tanager

What I could learn
from a bald eagle
is this-
don't fight the wind.
Open your wings
and simply float.
That is all
and it is


Saturday, April 22, 2017

Because It Is Spring

Because it is spring,
after fourteen months
of winter,
hope arrived
along with
two Canada geese
skidding into
Reflection Lake.

Because it is spring again,
and a junco
scampered in the yard,
it is possible to
believe in green
replacing black snow.

Because it is spring now,
perhaps the sweetest ever-
daylight is on steroids
and a Sandhill crane
winged a welcome
across the sky.


Sunday, April 9, 2017


Those vehicles,
covered in snow,
abandoned in parking lots-
what stories
do they hold?
Is there
a parking lot
for abandoned lives?
"It just wouldn't start."
"It was running poorly."
"I didn't like the way it sounded."
"I was tired of it."
"It wore out."
"It broke down so often."
I couldn't find a good mechanic
for my broken down, little life
so I parked it here.
Will come back
when I have more-
time, money, energy,
ideas, inspiration.
Until then
it will be alone
on this acre of asphalt
surrounded by
melting snow.