Sunday, August 22, 2021

August Golden Shovel #20

The writer stares at a blank white window, a

Reminder that she must write 1,000 words today. She’s a novelist

With five books, each one starting as empty screen. Who

Knows if this one will finally coalesce. She turns

To another window, sees gray clouds bunch on the

Horizon. The air vibrates, anticipating a feast from tables

Of nimbostratus. Raindrops spell words on

The glass, jolting her fingers to keyboard and a new history.


source: A Novelist Who Turns the Tables on History

Wednesday, August 18, 2021

July Golden Shovel #18

Science speaks, but who listens? Crossroads are where

Two sides meet, to yell, perchance to talk. Few

Are comfortable with the uncertainty of a new disease that got

From somewhere to here. We waited anxiously for a vaccine,

But when it came, only half took it. There were many

Who thought the vaccine was a Trojan horse. They have

Refused vaccines until they got sick, then wish they’d gotten

It. They beg for it in the ICU, but now they are too sick.


source: Where Few Got Vaccine, Many Have Gotten Sick

Tuesday, August 17, 2021

August Golden Shovel #15

She lunges for the iron door, hoping to escape, but she’s

Just too late. She’s drowning in sparkles of dust that rise in a

Tidal wave. Destiny rings a torrent, echoing the shape-shifting

Stars, who beckon a tease. She reverses the artist,

Sloughs off history, whips coins into a froth. Who

Will drink the potion of morning, glory in the plays

That star her lovers? She’s locked in an iron box where all

Her fears braid chains in crimson, cobalt, waiting for the

Moment that ties her in knots, yet unravels all her parts.


source: She’s a Shape-shifting Artist Who Plays All the Parts

August Golden Shovel #2

She feels her arms too long, her legs too short

To reach the stars, her desired goal for answers on

The questions that wake her at midnight. How many doses

Of moonlight will awaken her dead mother and

How many sprigs of belladonna will feed the dreams struggling

To strangle her? Will Orion hunt down her demons to

Feed his hounds? Is it Virgo or Hydra who will deliver

Her from Nature’s womb? She submits to the universe, to them.


source: Short on Doses and Struggling to Deliver Them

July Golden Shovel #19

Her arms and legs are the wrong size to fit the rules

For swimming in Hades’ lake. She’s told to trim for

Form, but where to begin. Everyone is watching, audiences

Of one or a thousand, hoping she glues herself shut. She can

Blur hopes, but whose desires strangle the night, spin

Her needs to suit the ruling class way over our heads.


source: Rules for Audiences Can Spin Heads

July Golden Shovel #14

Her spirit rallies while she sleeps under trees, with

No limits. Reality jimmies the lock to her dreams, 

Glaze of light bursts borders, crashes onshore, making sport

Of wishes that juggle for attention, nowhere near

Satisfaction. She’s reprieved for a moment, huddles in a

Corner, gathering allies and strategy and tactics, critical

To overcoming reality. No gods rescue her at the crossroads

Of hope and despair, yet she holds close a nostalgia

For the time before birth, when all possibility reigns.


source: With the Sport Near a Critical Crossroads, Nostalgia Reigns

July Golden Shovel #11

Her hold on power is stronger than gravity. She’s not sorry

She rules. It is her right. We bow before her, we

Bring tribute: sunflowers, mica chips, hummingbirds that aren’t

Quite adult. We crawl before her, caress her feet, going

Back to our cabins refreshed. We return at dawn, back

To groveling, but now she’s impatient, daring to

Demand equality. We do not understand her words. Their

Sound rocks our innards, twisting us into images of movies.


source: Sorry, We Aren’t Going Back to the Movies

Tuesday, August 3, 2021

SOLTuesday: Masks

I ran into an old friend on the street today. He’s about my age, 70s, more my husband’s friend than mine. I was masked, he was not, so I recognized him before he recognized me. 

            I commented that it was easier to recognize people by their eyes than I had expected. He commented that I was wearing a mask. 

            Well, I said, I’m wearing a mask on the street where there are lots of people. He said, we’re outside, you don’t need a mask. 

            I said, how does it hurt you if I’m wearing a mask? I’m not judging you for not wearing one. (I felt he was judging me for wearing one.) 

            He said, there’s a little space around your nose where the mask doesn’t fit tightly. I pressed the mask closer to my nose. 

            I feel safer with the mask. He feels safe without it. We agreed to disagree.


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