angieinspired

poetry and stuff

[blurbandblog]

Apprenticeship

She took a pair of scissors to her wrongly rounded stick-figure head.

She cut cheekbones so He’d recognize her.

With or with out the imagined mastectomy,

her poison-plumped blood went on

feeling…

sticking…

figuring life.

They were right in buying her a tree in Israel.

Her free hand’s our sister waving at Christ.

::

for Verse Escape and Real Toads

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Mary, Mary full of Grace

1. From the complications of loving you I think there is no end or return. No answer, no coming out of it. Which is the only way to love, isn’t it?

This isn’t a play ground, this is earth, our heaven, for a while. Therefore I have given precedence to all my sudden, sullen, dark moods

that hold you in the center of my world. And I say to my body: grow thinner still. And I say to my fingers, type me…

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Torn

This poem is torn. Like a placenta ripping away in jagged strips during birth, some smatterings still clinging to a daubed wall.

This poem is torn. Like a grocery bag handle making me cuss a little, muttering it’s impossible now to carry my sweet berries home.

This poem is torn. Like a cheap pair of pantyhose with a runner spreading ruin from reinforced toe to dry- lined crotch. It’s trash.

This…

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little lies

little lies beneath confessions

except they made her not count that forced kiss a real first

accidentally she gave up

counting boys with dirty nail moon beds

she can’t believe it

in the tent in the closet in the upstairs room

not her fault she’s always hungry for jam and peanut butter

anything now to stick inside her inside places

::

for Poetic Asides

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Shriven is not a word in Dr. King's vocabulary

Shriven is not a word in Dr. King’s vocabulary

Now, what can we do after our gospel sessions to re-assemble our lives?

I’d like for us all to begin to grant ourselves grace, to realize God loves us at the end

of the day

… and even at the end of the age! When we surely have not taken exact time to become shriven … our advocate will not be silent.

::

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent…MLK

for dVerse 

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[blurbandblog]

two blondes and a re(d) dress

i talk up the lady in the re(d) dress just standing there

you look amazing, angelic, fantastic!

and we blondes wear it best ** wink, wink **

but then of course comes a slipshod thought about us red-dress bests

how we might be able to minimize our inevitable and untimely leaks of melancholy

if only we could install some small tear-to-open at the top ketchup packets,

place them where our hearts are…

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beginning

i am beginning to understand love is the matter with me

that– and my trigger warning sexual appetite parts

i am beginning to understand our zero-distance rule made our hearts killers

i am beginning to understand animal bodies can never nuzzle close enough

::

for dVerse

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Ms. Thang gets an iPhone X

Ms. Thang gets an iPhone X, — plexiglass glitter cover, pink pop socket. Rocket science piece of shit can’t stop autocorrecting fuck, — ‘Duck’ always comes up. For real, Apple pervs?! How many actual texts mess up the sentiment for fuck with duck? Stuck on that full-feathered crime, Ms. Thang wonders (shudders involuntarily) picturing ducks fucking, — clucking, plucking,– and after 10 seconds too…

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from someone who doesn’t know a thing about love or gardening

here’s some instruction: tease me a little plot,

plant yourself shallow, please

your bed’s soft as timbres whisper, and i am your eager soil

in open air long and light our wildfire burns

away from us drunk rake! i bite your lip, rosy nip and cheek

away from us winter! our love’s in full bloom

::

for Verse Escape

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green, as a device

Green Door by Sharon Knight

put away your puppets & float fancy paper boats without a thought

in whitewater into fantastic green,

sister holly knows doors make fantastic forms &portals to secret matrix tables

can you believe it? three moons

&twisting &turning crystals requires just one hand &an open palm

find your way back from the land of lost Saturdays from milk &sugared cereals

unless, of…

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Americana ‘neath a simple sky

Natural light is the new color And her bra is stuffed into the glove compartment There are no stakes to claim in filtered tea panoramas

All a man can do is wait For her eyes to set ablaze the Sunset soil

And in her steel Chevy frame She’ll install herself as art among the sweeps

A cozy house A sure Silhouette A man could really get wrapped up in

::

for dVerse highlighting the photography of…

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[blurbandblog]

and in justice

she could be telling the truth, — that this is a flower poem

georgia o’keeff’s voluminous white magnolia clung to her sorority living room wall

in need of no resuscitation

mammoth mouths were housed in small frames

even back when she used to hide-out in public and private bathrooms

she was learning to pencil-in petals parts on english essays and close them off again

she could be telling the…

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lovegood's therapy session

lovegood’s therapy session

i’m the white mare from the dark past anyone would say, i guess

i’ve got peace and pudding in my hair, – and it’s been this way since i was six

when some rando flapped my face would be beautiful forever, but whatever. sure. write that down.

also uncorked, – on the Stahl’s lawn by the curb i’m not flimsy or easily embarrassed by honesty and fools can’t fool me with flashing limbs through window…

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though the moon hangs tender as an oyster button

we the faithless love a good dense fog, or maybe it’s raisin cake

either way we’re allured by ginger, faux or pearl, — does it really matter

we consult a nebula, wait for a seer to foretell we will love, we will marry within five years

perhaps we ought to get a dentist to pull our other leg too

yet the moon remains flagrantly loyal speaking kindly to us sprinkling compassion on us

as we continue…

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[blurbandblog]

map || spaces

|between| index finger your thumb

|between| ephemeral firefly my pearl of light

|between| pinch and press your wood worn pen

|between| spilling and you my words

|between| crooked fourth finger your eyes

|between| palm and velvet hand my map

|between| now and forever mountains of gold

|between| bodies angels cannot surmount

|between| me always you

::

for Real Toads, dVerse, and Verse Escape

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[blurbandblog]

let her love you: a warning to your one good eye

it’s a little risky. in fact, if you don’t want everything

you’re under no obligation to witness such heroic husbandry & there’s absolutely no compulsion to sit front row to this wrestling match that nobody’s scalping tickets for, on account of there being this one, and a hundred and other one peepholes just like it

shut it down? nah. peek through two or three, go ahead and voluntarily stop and…

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Day 271: It's dark in here

Day 271: It’s dark in here

Food and clean water are delivered in the night

           [but you’ve gone A.W.O.L.]

::

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