mourning ritual
Aralee
they had a wake
for aralee strange
in a bar
where university poets
showed up to behave
like academic sharks
sparring with street poet jets
i sat beside a man who was
a monolithic Jewish Poseidon professor
on a funeral date
wrong for me
i,
equally wrong for he
though it doesn’t keep me from missing him
weeping openly
in a room full of
a species of staue
films of her played
as her southern voice caused
candlelit
unbloomed lily buds
in table vases
to burst open
Ode to Arthur Nersesian
thank you,
writer,
hep cat,
antisocialite,
for not being
a novelist from Oregon
it doesn’t work that way, cowboy
he expected me
to be true
though everything about him
was a lie
paradoxical living
we didn’t tear the veil
we sewed a pocket into it
a summoner of nothing in particular
in the sunlit honey kitchen
listening to
the Smiths singing
there’s a club if I’d like to go
swaying with coffee in hand
it occurred to me that
life
is a fetish item
1984
you should’ve stuck around, Dad
antidepressants were only
a few years away
or smoked pot
hell,
it’s so ironically wrong that you obliterated yourself
in Kentucky
when marijuana
was the top cash crop
in the state
planchette
there’s a reading chair
i won’t allow to die
propped up with
an old Royal Typewriter case
where i drift off
dreaming unafraid
of slow-moving tornadoes
& your whispering face
weighing scientifically
which is more destructive
.
you’re haunting me
as promised
but not so much i feel put upon
which i know
you would hate
(artwork by Stephen Mackey)
How Isabella Conquers Her World
you have descended
from indigenous medicine women
and girl scout goddesses
you came into this life
with power that takes growing
into
head held high
with strong female role models
confidence you will cultivate
by surviving pain
rising to challenges
you’re finding out
you’re stronger than you know
by
creating your own peace
owning your joy
making happiness your choice
remembering you have endured
their belittling words
because
they need to feel better than you
because they have nothing to be proud
how sad is that
pity them
waste no time on bitterness
take comfort
people like this are their own reward
you will rise above their words
you will outlive their petty hearts
the world fears all shades of women and girls
who believe in themselves
do not ever give a bad person
the power
to make you feel like
you are less
to make you ashamed of the way you are woven into the fabric of our universe
or that it is anything but
perfectly divine
to be you
