Wholed by Ink

Over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Kerry invited us to write a poem inspired by Clarence White’s Morning. The image—a woman in a nightgown, sitting on the edge of a tub, thinking… in front of a window—made me think of moonlight, storytelling and such. So, here’s my poem:

 

I am dark stories
glittering, ragged wings
wholed by ink,
nightlight risen
through shadow and storm.

 

the finished piece brought to mind this painting by Shelle Kennedy

also, the original poem is a blackout

this is what it looked like before the inking and stitching

 

Linked to Poets United.

 

Igor Had Me in Stitches and Other not-so-Monstrous Bits

I’m never late to a party where the guests of honor are monsters. But my jaw and I found ourselves forced to spend unscheduled quality time with the fang doctor, and now I’m flying to May Monster Madness with Mistress Tardiness wailing horrors down my neck.

Right now, my jaw hates the whole world. And I don’t think there is a word that effectively describes what she feel towards scalpels, stitches, and the sound some people make when they are convinced that they can get milkshake out of an empty cup, if they just suck harder on their straw. I’m not sure why *cough*, but I think my jaw will stay irritated for a while. When I asked her if she would write this post for me, she said, “Certainly. I’ll use the fang physician’s blood as ink and make parchment out of his skin and—”

Um… I decided to write the post myself, since I didn’t think the visit was that horrible. I even laughed while I was being tortured. You see, my oral surgeon’s first name is Igor. So, of course, the moment a hand, equipped with needle and thread, approached my mouth, I lost it… and roared with laughter. He just kept on stitching. I was impressed by the steadiness of his hands. After he was done suturing, I tried explaining why I had laughed like a lunatic. But… the laughter came back, and I only said, “Igor! Stitches!” He finally got it, and yep, roared.

My jaw is still holding on to her rage, so my contribution to this year’s MMM is a short, simple sampler of not-so-monstrous bits with monsters in them:

The 1st offering is a Gary Larson cartoon that illustrates something I’ve always wondered about the more violent halves of monsters who are not monstrous all the time. How do they feel about their seemingly less threatening halves?

 

The 2nd was crafted in the middle of the night—the monstering hour—while I tried to convince my jaw that pain is the most terrible of gods, that he can not be defeated with more pain, so wishing for our head to explode wouldn’t help.

 

The 3rd and final offering was inspired by a tweet, whose vileness should not be repeated. The disgusting statement left me thinking that no beast will ever be as terrible or despicable as the human monster.  

 

Hm, I went from bright to ominous without meaning to. I guess I could blame it on my jaw, but I won’t. We must never disregard our human monsters… not today, when their corruption spreads to the highest hills.

Don’t forget to visit Annie Walls, the host of May Monster Madness 2018, to see what else is brewing…

 

I Remember…

“If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.”
~ Wilfred Owen