damn fine writing

i want to feel it

the ink on your pen

scratching

rough thoughts

on smooth surfaces
i want to smell it

where your mind has been

the brew

of conquest 

and raging desire
i want to see it

what you’ve made of

your world

bleeding out

from every damn word
i want to taste it

what that
kiss was like

and how
 you felt

when it wasn’t yours
i want to hear it

the clash of swords 

the war

hard fought

the territory won


Rene ~ 2013
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torn

Have you ever been
stuck 

between now

and what happens

next
you’re just spinning 
your 
wheels

in your own
 private 
Levittown 

space
everything is so

safe

everyone’s
 
predictably the

same
if you could just

leave

you wouldn’t 

care about so much

pain
Rene – 2013

sweet tea

Emeline,
being a resourceful human,
decided that the best way of exorcising
the demons of her past lovers
was to describe them using three adjectives

Using her calligraphy set,
a graduation gift from her uncle Ted,
She carefully wrote out each word
on a vellum note card
and tied them up
with a navy blue grosgrain ribbon

She poured herself
a glass of sweet tea
grabbed a box of tools
from under the kitchen sink
and set out into the evening shade of her backyard.
She slid her sandals on her feet
as she scuffed along
letting the screen door slam behind her

Macy, the neighbor’s beagle,
commenced to yapping
as soon as the screen door had fired its warning shot
and continued to keep up the racket
as Emeline strode across the yard.

Hush, Macy,
she said under her breath
She had every right to yap, Emeline thought,
if something rightly disturbed her.
That is why she did not scold her directly.

Emeline knelt down in the grass
and dug into her toolbox.
She pulled out a pair of scissors
and cut the ribbon on the stack of cards.
She scooped up a handful of tacks and
started sticking each despicable adjective
onto the fence that faced her kitchen window.
She laughed as she stuck up the word
flaccid,
it kept falling down

When all was organized,
with the fence looking like the most fucked up
version of the Wheel of Fortune that you
could ever imagine, it started to drizzle.
Emeline retired to her kitchen and enjoyed,
all by her lonesome, a glass of port.
And it was good
“Y’all can just hang out there in the rain all night!”
She cackled, leering at the shameful jumble of words
“But come tomorrow?
I’ma start throwing knives.”

Rene ~ 2013

pen pal

Drawing Hands, 1948 by M. C. Escher
via Magpie Tales

from across the table
the world
your words
meet my eyes
and stir my soul

how easily they reach
across latitudes
and oceans
across mountains
and time
across cities
and down herd paths

how urgently
they wind up the streets
of my heart and marrow
unlocking doors
and lighting fires

from across the table
the world
your words
expose the infallible gods
of lost hope
as astronomical frauds

Rene ~ 2013

For Him and Her

alma

Image via Magpie Tales

Alma
she, the practical godmother 

of re purposed filled lives

did so, not out of
fad or fashion
or deep cosmic guilt

but rather frugality
borne out of
horse drawn necessity

with Alma
one was never allowed
to simply “be”

a spoon could not
just stir
a kettle had to do more than
just boil

one trick extravagances
had no business
in her business

for Alma
“just doing your bit”
was an unforgivable sin
and a grotesque waste
of limitless talent

she eschewed
the flock trotted superhighway
and blazed her own way
in inventive fashion

the future
sewn and soldered 
formed from 
whatever she had on hand
waiting to be reborn
and twisted 
drifting from the past

Rene ~ July 2013