Throwback Thursday: Earthquake Shakes

This one was published by Three Line Poetry in February.  Short and sweet, each line is less than 40 characters.  Enjoy.  It is about my first earthquake in Alaska.


earthquake shake book shelves
café patrons lock eyes
a brief sip paused

Throwback Thursday: The Reflex

This poem was published by Eskimo Pie in February.  Yes, a Duran Duran reference!

The Reflex


The lead guitarist’s butterfly collar

framed the half opened polyester shirt

exposing the sable chest hair that

matched his fuzzy head.

Shiny silver dress slit high

up the lead singer’s

thigh as she begins

her scorching rendition

of Gloria Gaynor.


I will survive

Oh, as long as I know …


It reminds of my mother’s obsession with


All oldies – all of the time


Songs that tormented my youth

with a quick rotation of the radio dial.


Love, love me do…


The lyrics of one Beatles song or another—

nothing but a good oldie would do for my mother.


As I sat watching the misfit 70’s band

leave the stage at the dive bar of my college existence

where I often drank after creative writing workshops—

sometimes more than others, sometimes harder than others—

the thoughts of the funky polyester pants dissipate

and memories of my mother’s radio fade

giving way to another time when I was young,

and Duran Duran’s “The Reflex”

made everything seem so much easier.

(Explicit)Throwback Thursday: The Drop Off

Explicit post: Warning! Possible trigger.

This poem was published by Eskimo Pie in February.  Check out the poem and Eskimo Pie too!


The Drop Off

Maidenhood aside,

your sex trapped me.

My fresh curls could not

compete with you aged mounds

of flesh I did not desire.


The fruity bubble gum should

have told me all:

the sickly melon perfumed

my car, ate at my stomach,

eroding my alliance,

down to a sugary decay of

falsehood and cunning.


Thinking nothing of sticky fly traps,

I shared my soda and

youthful dimples.


Instead of cookies, you offered love

and, of course, your sex

as the sugar started to saturate,

entrapping me.


The friend you left behind —

not the one that offered you a ride,

the one you had in me–

dashed off her fears and turned the key.


Sweetly, I spurned your desires,

but with all the sugar everything

turned sour.


I dropped off your unfulfilled

desires at your doorstop.

You will come to me again,

but I will not be there.


I’ve thrown away all of my candy.


Throwback Thursday

A poem published in Cirque this summer.  Enjoy and check them out!


With my femininity under my arm,

we hustled down the dusty

shell of a broken college town,

past the crooked props

that used to sell feed

and pens to students, where

I offered my femininity to my fiancé.

He refused it.

Passersby frowned and jeered:

The wrinkled grape thought it was

best suited for a child;

Her charge thought that I was just too old.

A fluffy pink, the doll’s dress was

–with pink bows, of course.

Blonde with pigtails, the hair was

–with tight curls, of course.

Shattered sidewalks failed

to absorb the shame,

as my femininity receded

into my ragged college jacket along

with my spent youth

and thrift store receipt,

only to allow patches of its plastic

head and feet to emerge

when I least wanted it.