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December 18, 2016

Eventually, even Nazi Germany
Recovered, for many, and
Returned to a new normalcy

On the other side of fascism.
This is what it feels like
At the precipice - powerless

To stop the bad you know
Will come and wondering
If this time will be

The last time it starts.
Is there an emergence
From the tunnel we are entering,

Or are we doomed
To be victims, all, of the

Impending collapse?

This is Poem #222 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

October 15, 2016

Once plump in his lapel,
And singing out sweet
Scent of rose and lily
Of the valley; promises

In a buttonhole. A small
Piece of her bouquet
Gracefully placed in long,
Satin-gloved fingers,

And gliding up the aisle
Like a ghost. The
Boutonniere now smushed
Between hotel matchbooks

And cufflinks in a wooden
Box. Years passed, but it
Escaped the sentence of the garbage
Pail in each clutter cleanse.

We hold on to hope, even when
all evidence proves it a foolish
notion right from the start
of the thread pulled and unraveling.

 This is Poem #182 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. 


I am sure many of you have seen the resurgence of a two-year old letter making its way around social media in which a queer individual is accused of decorating her yard in a “relentlessly gay” fashion. Regardless of the legitimacy of this viral post, it can serve as a reminder of the ignorance and prejudice that is crawling out of hiding in the current political climate. Yesterday’s Republican confirmation of an unqualified, sexist, racist, and homophobic person  to our Supreme Court is a stark reminder of this. I am sure I am not the only person who felt physically ill when the notification popped up on their phone’s screen yesterday.

This is not, however, the time to sit back and give up. What we are experiencing is the backlash by the threatened, privileged group who have been in power for too long. It is evidence of the fear they have about the progress the rest of us have made. How else can we explain away the fact that they have sunk so low?

They are reacting to the eight glorious years of progress we have made by attempting to push women back into the kitchen, queer people back into the closet, and people of color to the back of the bus. We all must RESIST this effort and we must RESIST it TOGETHER as one group of relentlessly gay, femi-nazi, black panthers. There are more of us than there are of them, especially when we factor in all of our white, straight male allies.

Every morning as you drink your coffee, apply your eyeliner, lace up your Doc Martens, crank up Public Enemy or Ani as you prepare to continue to fight.  We cannot let the hope we had for two presidential terms die. We have to dust it off, hold it up, and #resist.

Do not drop it

In a gang shower

They joke – but hope


Will help you wake

at 4am and actually

Want to get out of bed.


And will shrink

The amygdala

And let creation


And planning grow.

Flourish again.

Hope destroys


The Plague of Pessimism

She worked so hard

To spread around –


And infect each of us.

Hope the antidote;

Relearn to stand


At the front of a classroom,

Write on the chalkboard,

And teach in peace.


This is Poem #10 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. These are second drafts of  pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state. Feel free to give useful critique.


Some of these  poems are quite  “cringe-worthy” but I’m publishing them here anyway. Let it suffice to say, there had been some very bad things happening for a lot of us at work, but we were on the cusp of action and change. This poem and others upcoming reflect this time of uncertainty.


Lady Diction’s Calendar

September 2020