You are currently browsing the monthly archive for September 2018.

STvOSd%hR9mtOVgJwgoSJg

 

It is hard to be

Invisible in a loud world.

Introducing yourself

To the same people,

 

Every time you meet.

They feign surprise

At your presence, then

Forget, somehow, that you

 

Exist. Like the Loch Ness

Monster – who rises every

Once in a while

As a reminder from the sea –

 

You show up at a party,

Dressed in your finest,

Only to be denied again.

 

There is no trinket to say,

“I saw her” or parties

Looking for that blurry

Photograph that neither

 

Proves nor disproves

Your existence in

Our world. Swim

Back to the depths

 

Of your underwater

Cave and hope

That someday you will appear

In focus.

 

This is Poem #41 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

 

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map below, and write from there.

 

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

f12e3e211e790a970fcbf46c1b5a707b

At the end of everything,

every Disney ride,

every roadside attraction,

 

the tiny room of treasures

waits. A small black

bear on a red leash

 

at Clark’s Trading Post or

a teeshirt to prove you

were there. This car

 

climbed Mt. Washington or Visit 

the Strangest Farm on Earth

slapped on your bumper. Jewelry

 

crafted by the natives

hanging on a rotating stand or

polished rocks to be funneled

 

into small velvet pouches. Who

can leave a place

without touching a piece

 

of where you have been

and confiscating

evidence of life?

s-l640

This is Poem #40 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

 

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map below, and write from there.

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

Coelacanth

Image from The Parody Wiki 

 

You have been swimming

in the pond,

murky,

with real monsters

the whole time.

 

There is hard evidence

now the demons

exist. Photographic

 

documentation and the fossilized

remains were never

trusted. But a dead

body always holds up

 

in court. His blue

fins swam under

his better known (and

 

believed in) ancestors –

 

Always the ghost in

the machine. He

grazed your legs

in the depths and you

cried because you had

neglected to shave.

 

Never go in the water

when you are bleeding,

he warned. My teeth

are sharp. And after

years of obfuscation

 

I will jump out

of the ocean

for a snapshot.

 

This is Poem #39 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map above, and write from there.

Here’s a little more insight into the mystery of the Coelacanth.

What happens when you learn a demon is real? All the years of falsified evidence – never a necessity and you’ve been swimming in the pond with monsters the whole time?

1499087790352

Image from Singular Fortean

A horrific spectre

Spreads his wings

In the night woods.

But their fragile

Fabric catches

On loose branches.

 

Who could know

What he suffers

Alone? Trying to

Avoid the flame,

And tearing his wings.

 

But we will cower

In terror at his

Tall shadow, rising

Out of mist behind rocks.

 

We set a trap

Of lanterns – giant

Lights to attract what

We fear most. Trying

To get that elusive

Photograph to post

On Instagram and

Prove he is real.

 

This is Poem #38 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map above, and write from there.

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

Here’s a little more insight into the mystery at the  Mothman Museum .

easterncougar_960x400

 

She slank across

93 North – all hunches

And shadows in the dark.

 

No bear or dog

Boasts such shape

And movement on four paws.

 

Fish and Game won’t

Come clean

And admit she is here,

 

Guarding her kittens

In the White Mountains,

Feasting on deer

 

By the spring. She is too

Sly for security cameras.

Our own Big Foot in the midst

 

Of traffic jams and music

Festivals, beer tents,

and county fairs.

 

Someday, she will saunter

In, rollover to let us

Stroke her belly. Decide

If she wants us

For play

or for prey.

 

This is Poem #37 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map above, and write from there.

 

I’m sure I’m not the only one who has seen a Mountain Lion roaming in New Hampshire. Have you seen her?

14077620_f1024

 

In the night

He slinks behind the boulders

We’d climbed all day,

 

But his glowing eyes

Give him away.

Oh, and the giant almond

Head where they live.

 

Unnatural, so naturally

embedded into the forest;

In the dark, why

Shouldn’t we be afraid?

 

Even with photographic

Evidence, no-one will believe

In the unbelievable.

 

I want to invite him

To play ultimate frisbee,

Drink wine in the cabin

Of his UFO. Demon,

 

Your likeness hidden

Behind glass, printed

On teeshirts and postcards, yet,

 

Your existence a disputed

Mystery. Your witnesses

Believe in all that is possible.

 

This is Poem #36 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map above, and write from there.

Here’s a little more insight into the mystery of The Dover Demon.

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

If only it were so easy.

Walk up to the ex-boy scout

Grown middle-aged

 

Behind the counter –

Or the sage librarian

At the typewriter –

 

For instruction on directions,

Career path, marriage prospects.

Someone to stop you

 

Swiping that credit card

At the check out

Every time you think of it.

 

“Don’t wrack up debt.”

 

And then, at 40, you’ve

Got a hefty savings. Yes,

Make peace with your

Finances and your soul.

 

Go to church, but don’t

Ever follow anyone’s rules

To the book and don’t

Judge others. “That’s what

We owe history: risk.”

 

This is Poem #35 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map above, and write from there.

When you’re in between

And change is mud season,

Mucky, murky, and you

Are stuck at the side of the road,

 

Avoiding the ruts

Got you nowhere.

There is fear in the middle.

 

No one loves uncertainty,

And the risk to move forward

Seems grim. It requires

 

A shedding of the past –

The tire iron at the ready.

 

We have nothing to believe

In anymore. Science her very self

Is under the microscope,

 

And condemned a witch.

Burn her at the stake.

Her feet sway under a long, grey,

Flax dress. Tiny black

slippers pointed like a ballerina’s.

 

We should have listened

To her long ago. But denial

Is so easy to believe

When the world is dying.

 

This is Poem #34 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

Crypto Map

This poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine.

After the third beer

The truth trips

Telling off his tongue.

 

He does a good job

Of masking contempt

Otherwise, but booze

 

Bring out the illogical

And unlock what he

Truly thinks. The way

 

To imagine her slunk

In a corner, cowering

At all he’s done

 

To rescue

Inferior her.

His willingness to take

 

On a fallen woman

A superman cape

His ego can wear

 

Around the other abuses.

“Get back down into

Yourself” he commands,

 

Indirectly, of course,

With words not chosen

But hurled forth

 

From the grey matter

Where they’ve drunk

Cocktails together for decades.

 

This is Poem #33 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

I have secrets from you.

This is not a good thing.

It’s a Big Foot gorging

 

and growing and gaining

Every day that I keep

My troubles inside.

 

He gluts himself

On the suffering

Of my lies

Then ducks behind

 

Rocks at each

Flashlight beam,

Camera flash,

Video echo.

 

I need to prove

With evidence substantiated

And secured by logic,

Facts, undoctored

 

Photographs,

And hope

That proof of discovery

Will not cause panic and fear

And a mad rush out

Of this quagmire.

 

This is Poem #32 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

This poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine.

Goodreads

Lady Diction’s Calendar

September 2018
M T W T F S S
 12
3456789
10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627282930