Micropoetry Monday: Homesong


The hurricane ushered in a new era:
of forgotten board games being dusted off,
conversation without background noise,
& books being read again.

They settled in the land of opportunity,
built a green house off the grid,
went to school & work at home,
& found a sustainable life balance.

She moved West where she did not belong,
returning home where the connective tissue
of culture & family healed her, filling in the cracks.

She hungered, but did not thirst,
nor was she naked, but her clothes did not fit.
Her house was small, but livable.

Laurey never got her Barbie Dream house
but she got her dream guy.
She never got her dream car,
but her children were a dream unrealized
come true.

A Certain Kind of Congress

She was a natural blonde,
unnaturally stacked;
he was naturally white,
unnaturally tanned.
Kenny and Barb,
from the South Side
of Malibu Heights,
found themselves
in a minority’s plight.
So they moved to the
Capitol Dollhouse,
where the Hobbyists,
like the hands of giants—
played The People’s servants,
only to help them become the served.

Micropoetry Mondays: Absurdity


The script was written, & the reality-TV stars were cast.
The Bachelor had to pick one for happily ever after,
tho’ the love story had been written once upon a time.

She was a spelling bee,
always drawn to an English rose or
recreating a page out of History,
but when it came to a Math problem involving Science,
she felt like Barbie trying to get her G.E.D.

The tenants of the Raintree Apartments were complex—
the military wives who cooked the meth,
the potheads who held Ph.D.’s,
the poor Republicans & the rich Democrats,
but all that mattered when a room blew up or there was a bust,
was that they paid their rent on time.

His Randy-ian Ways
She came home to find her husband in bed
with his literary lover, Ayn Rand,
well-hung above their bed,
for Ayn’s virtue was selfishness,
& he, the most virtuous of all.

When she took the self out of selfie,
she was left with half a rule: i before e.