Every once in a while, I forget just how much I delight in Frankenstein(ing) my blackout poem bits. Then, the muse remembers, stitches them together, and we birth something deliciously warped:


Ink my body into temptation,
then art the darkness with my want.

You see, love is misery
and happiness,


when your words love me well,
the world finds all the right spots
and life moans her pleasure.

I want us—
cradled by our warped
selves, attached to our old
and terrible…
I want us.


the visual poetry

crafted for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55 and Poets United (Poetry Pantry, 393).

Slaughter Prejudice Like a Lady

A dear friend of mine is turning 82-years-strong in a couple of days. For her birthday, she asked for her Devils—as in Marine Corps Devil Dogs—to dye their hair blood red, navy blue, or white. Some of my medical issues make it dangerous for me to dye my hair using the options she provides. So, instead of coloring my hair, I decided to create two art-full-and-love-touched pieces inspired by some of the traits that make me admire the birthday girl.

The first piece was “How to Keep Wannabe Autocrats from Walling Your Weird (in 5 not-so-easy steps)”. The blackout poem bit I’m sharing now is the second. But… those of you who know me also know that I can’t stand even numbers, so I shall post a third bit on Wednesday. That one will focus on two of my friend’s favorite pastimes: reading about mythical creatures and dissecting what strangers share about themselves in personal ads.

Anyhoo, here is the blackout, frankensteined to life with paint and pens and markers and needles and red thread and a page out of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and other scraps. Did I mention that my friend loves swords almost as much as she loves the idea of living in a world where everybody matters? Well, she does. And she has been fighting for that all her life.

Slaughter prejudice like a lady.