CarolGM

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AI Wrote this Poem for Me for You and then

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AI Wrote this Poem for Me for You and then

It looks dead rabbit down there, I don’t know (me: did I cue Gemini lurking in my purse in my phone with something like these words to begin its efforts? The very AI I removed from my phone this morning?) what your question is. Can you be more precise? Where is “down” in this situation? Is this a metaphor? Is this what you meant to say? Where is the location? Here are some prompts you…

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For a short tale of county fair dust and randy rabbits visit Kathy Winograd's blog

Celebrated writer, photographer, and teacher Kathy Winograd is breaking into writing humor. She emailed me that “Well, it’s because of you and David that I’m experimenting with trying to have a little humor instead of deathly serious life and death things in my writing all the time,” which made us laugh some more. Timing, dry wit, a voice like no other–well, check out her blog yourself during…

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how to write again after winter

Perhaps you can relate whatever it is you have trouble getting started doing.

Look at your journal frequently carry it around move it from surface to surface set a pen beside it   a pretty good pen not the best pen pick them up put them down pen and journal decorate the journal   a sloth sticker, a Texas state park ghost buffalo put a very small journal in your pocket to carry at all times and a tiny pencil read read read read read read read become weak and…

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Small lump of gold

Two years after we lost our home and community in the Marshall Fire, I finger through the tiny things sifted from ash near where our bedroom might have been. My son has kept the stuff for me in a cottage cheese container in his garage. I dimly recognize a few objects–watch case and steel strap, crusty beads from necklaces, even a charred earring or two, all the colors turned to gray or black,…

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Two Fire Years--Philosophical Questions

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Hello Old Friends and New Readers, 2024

Just over two years ago my house burned down in the Marshall Fire. A lot of your homes burned down. Many animals died. Two humans died. A neighborhood died. And apparently I let my wordpress site die, but we escaped with our cat, a change of socks and underwear, our so-called important papers, our winter boots and coats, and innumerable friends and strangers who helped us recover–our gratitude…

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Lucky at Winter Solstice Speaks

I always have to allow the dark in before solstice. Listening to its message gives room for the celebration of light--embracing my connection to the earth within our solar system.

Wild Horse at Winter Solstice Speaks Horse says, listen again.  Did you forget me? And the dry bright summer of my dying? Let the cold dark remind you how just now  a smile passed your lips when you thought of us together.  So little pain, loss gentled. Did you forget me?   And all the pastures before our story where you yearned for someone like me,  and whispered a call? Go again to a…

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Bright Path Dark River

Bright Path Dark River

My new book and me. Available from me (just comment or visit my facebook page) or on amazon for $20.00 or on kindle for $2.99. https://www.facebook.com/carolgmwriter https://www.amazon.com/Bright-Path-River-Carol-Guerrero-Murphy-ebook/dp/B08KRN1RDV/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Carol+Guerrero-Murphy&qid=1610398143&sr=8-1

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Ode to the Future During the Pandemic You’ve never actually been there, Future, your nitrile gloved hands beckoning, a partner for a waltz we never learned how to lead or follow-- blue crocus underground and snow geese wintering in the south-- no part of you more than wishes or prayers to faithless lovers.  

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Ode to Nostalgia

This rising mist, not dim, but light,

I bathe in Her more often

now that the Future (in her mask)

is running away

wobbling on bad feet.

This rising, mist, not dim, but light—warm,

every time She arrives this way

wrapping shining arms

around my shoulders

a feeling of light with different names

for the Past.  Story of a Day

when oyster middens

piled deep…

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Zooming with the Horse

1. In profile, Horse shifts his dark windowed eye a little down and to the left to say scratch that pull off that burr or tick and I can’t see what it is, never will know, anyway no chance to pull it off, scratch and after all he’s dead as my vet said zooming in horse heaven his sky legs regained.   2.  Zooming with the rabbit, She turns one ear back then her head follows, then there is only her…

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A Trio of Pandemic Poems

A Trio of Pandemic Poems

Like many, after March sank into my understanding like a wildfire smoke plume during an ozone-thick inversion, I veered away from screens except for news and for “seeing” family and friends, and into the garden. As summer ripened into fall as it does, and I gathered outside a few times with poetry-writing friends, I finished these poems. These comprise the epilogue for my almost published third…

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Poem for Isolation

Poem in Isolation

to: prisoners, refugees, immigrants, aged infirm, quarantined, us

What I need to write now

is a different sort

of poem, one that

dings like a text or better

rings like a phone

call and when you

answer it is

your best friend, brother,

child, something, someone like

that, and everything is perfectly

fine, they say, the night’s heavy

snow is melting under spring…

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A death/geometry poem and a helpful editor at Barnstorm Journal

A death/geometry poem and a helpful editor at Barnstorm Journal

I neglected to keep a good record of some of my publications and need them now in order to apply for a particular grant. I wrote Barnstorm Journal because I had difficulty using its search function and overnight received a kind note, an apology for the difficulty searching, and the url to my poem from 2013. So here it is! What a professional and generous editor, Charlotte Gross, an MFA student at…

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Midwinter Night, Solstice December 21 2019

Midwinter Night, Solstice December 21 2019

Fairbanks winter solstice, courtesy University of Alaska

What People Mean

Cousin Anne writes that the light that generally accompanies visitations has been seen at the Nighthawk cabin recently.

Midwinter sunset rolls out the red carpet for our mother

and midsummer dawn casts a gold path for our father

and the world they travel turns parallel to ours.

Transparent but visible, it…

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Free Cat Dreams Thought you all might like a break from Chained Dog Dreams. These are our cats Natty Bumpo and Little Bear.