Name: Michele McDannold
Date registered: June 28, 2011
Jabber / Google Talk: Admin
Mar 10
Where To Look For Deceased Parents Search the sky first, because that’s where ghosts go. Floating around, watching us falling apart. The moon’s a liar. Check it. Another body aging—no secret codes. A chunk of cheese reflecting someone else’s light. We cannot drink them away. If we reach for alcohol, the faulty wires, fraying our …
Mar 09
Mother Tongue When our mothers were young and working first jobs at drive-ins after school and on weekends, slinging burgers and cola on trays to the windows of sports cars of affluent American man-brats killing their time in our country, lecherous men who would reach out and smack their asses, or try to, cartoon ego-smiles …
Mar 08
Electors When the smoke rises properly, you get a new pope When the entrails slide into the grass, we pick a new chief You have to grow up with reasons to learn how to give them control of your life Sometimes voted in – sometimes born to it Thrown chicken bones tell who is in …
Mar 08
Tornado of Trouble Do you want me? my luck is lousy, I live with a landlady that measures her tenants booze bottles Her soul could melt man hole covers, fire hydrants, railroad spikes, she gave me the July blues in winter A giraffe, lion, magpie in the cloudless cobalt sky, I ate a salsa dog …
Mar 07
I Took Jackson Pollock To The Psychiatrist I had a psychiatrist appointment so I got out of bed early and gathered all the worms I could find there were none the birds did not sing it was February I wore mittens over my ears I put a bullet proof vest over my heart wore my …
Mar 07
Learning to Be Quiet Fenced in dogs were always barking in the cold, no dog houses just freezing in the snow. My grandfather’s dogs neglected as my grandmother. Age 4, I saw Pop park his truck and drink a pint of whiskey. I heard plenty of talk from the relatives. I didn’t know what it …
Mar 06
Reveille I won’t argue the recollection that in my youth my emotional intelligence had left much to be desired, dancing drunk with delusions and coupling scraps of vagabond verbiage with vocal cords lubed by spit and vibrating like a jackhammer screaming out pseudo poetic punk anthems woefully off key. Young and dumb with a mouth …
Mar 06
Spring, Tomorrow Bring spring into your home IKEA proudly declares. There are only rabbitless fields now, a night zipping up its coat and rubbing its hands together. Owl eyes aren’t television sets advertising better times ahead. Every tree is an empty street. The advert on your phone hypnotises you to accept the diorama is real: …
Mar 05
Poem for Robert Kennedy, Jr. When I am (finally) declared King of the World, I will send all billionaires to health farms for their “personal failures” where they will work for zero wages until they learn the true meaning of human empathy and what it’s like to have real problems outside of an ambition that …
Mar 04
The Polish Hammer Poetry Corner Beards Back in my day, a beard was a woman you’d agree to marry when too many people began questioning your need for such an extensive Barbie collection and your fixation with drinking Rose wine with your brunch. Nowadays, everyone has a beard. Seriously, I can’t remember the last time …
