Michele McDannold

Project U Radio airs online every Thursday night, at 10:30 CST,11:30 pm EST and the show page can be found here. Project U Radio is a weekly show featuring topics, discussions, guests, and call-in open mic sessions. Hosted by Lynn Alexander and Paul Corman-Roberts, this show features a mixed bag- see full details about upcoming …

Jun 17

Sir Guillotine Gives You a Painless Death

Categories:

archives, Poetry

by Michele McDannold

When they tipped the basket of heads, collected at the base of the guillotine and they tumbled forth like the awkward unsteady steps of a toddler, the eyes moved, teeth bit, and chewed at the weave of the basket. One mouth, they say, bit down on another’s ear and wouldn’t let go. Two men, their …

Jun 14

Car Skeleton

Categories:

archives, Poetry

by Michele McDannold

Behind a stout apartment building Lies an automobile graveyard. Go there. You’ll see a rusty car skeleton; The edges are saffron and sharp, And there’s motor oil on everything. Since your about eight years old, You probably shouldn’t touch it. But do it anyway. As your taking the burned car battery out, Notice the hill …

Jun 11

Tear It Down (And Rebuild It)

Categories:

archives, Poetry

by Michele McDannold

Save poetry! Save it from the critics Who only name-drop obscure poets To make themselves look smarter than they are. Save it from half-smart students Who fill it full of Freudian innuendos, Just so they can feel sharp When they slip in a dick joke. Smash the “post” movements That made poetry out to be …

Jun 08

A Child of War

Categories:

archives, Poetry

by Michele McDannold

As she lies bleeding, the girl who skipped and hopped to school. All of nine and a half years old, with ribbons in her hair and a laugh that was her father’s pride. As she lies bleeding, the warm bullet lodged in her torn stomach, she stares at her skipping rope, as her blood soaks …

Jun 02

Cheng & I

Categories:

archives, Poetry

by Michele McDannold

Salvation at the edge of the city. In ratty-tat bars, where Cheng tries to pick up men whose eyes remind him of sad lemurs, souls of suicidal leaf monkeys at typewriters. By break of tri-color stream of sky, no one can afford meat. No one can afford to lose. Beyond perimeters of broken fences, in …

May 30

Ahab

Categories:

archives, Poetry

by Michele McDannold

i’m lashed to the whale like ahab his was a fine madness much like mine only my whale is the word and the words often turn on me and it pisses me off unless i’m getting it right this drives my harpoon but very few notice this is a world of icons and texting fingers …