Saturday, January 30, 2010


Tonight I went for dinner and had the best Vegetable Patia this little old vegetarian has ever had the pleasure of eating. After dinner MyBigStupidHero & I tried to stop by McKays Used Books. We pulled into the parking lot and only saw 3 or 4 cars. They were parked close to the front (not around back in the Employee spaces), the inside lights were on, and I could see people wandering around inside. Hope burned brightly in my heart as we pulled close to the front doors. Unfortunately, there was a sign - they had closed at 6pm due to the Snowpocalypse of 2010.

I have to say that as we crept through the parking lot I was REALLY hoping that McKays was actually open and it was just that damn deserted. I rationalized that theory for a few moments by telling myself that people who buy, read, and sell used books are the only smart people I know and thusly A)All the idiots are out buying $150 worth of groceries that they probably already have in their cabinets at home and NOT looking for $25 worth of used books to keep them occupied in case of natural disaster. B)Those of us who would venture out onto the streets with idiots who forget how to drive every time the weather changes just to go to bookstores would be the best kind of people you could ever meet.

If McKays had been open and that deserted I think I would have thoroughly enjoyed meeting every single person in that store & probably would have looked to see what books they were getting. I imagine it would be like that time I went to see all 3 Lord of the Rings movies back to back. To be in a room with only people who truly want to do the exact same thing as you is an awesome experience. Alas, tonight was NOT one of those nights, but for a few fleeting moments in a snow encircled parking lot I believed in the possibility of it.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

The Hermit is dead. Long live the Hermit.

JD Salinger was a personal favorite of mine. He will be missed.

"I don't care if it's a sad good-by or a bad good-by, but when I leave a place I like to know I'm leaving it. If you don't, you feel even worse."

~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Tuesday, January 26, 2010


This whole "posting something every week even if it's tripe" experiment has really helped. If by help, you mean that I am posting things that under normal circumstances never see the light of day. I'm not sure how I feel about it. It's liberating. I jot things down now that I would have let slip quickly between my fingers before. Maybe that's good - maybe not. I kinda feel like some sort of Pro-literary fanatic at times - "Poetry starts at the moment of conception!" Then at the end of the day I've got a cardboard box full of inbred kittens.

All that is to say this: "Here's some more poetry! Awww, look at it - it's polydactyl."


I need to write something.
Come, help me think.
Can you find the words?
I seem to have lost them.
I was sitting right here!
I haven't moved all day.
Maybe they're caught in my hair
or lying curled in the folds of my skirt.
When I rise to search for them
they will roll under the couch
and next Tuesday my cat will speak eloquently.

southern martyr 1-26-10

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Drunk at a conference - so why not post a poem?!

Coming Home

I love the way your hand moves
always to lie upon the curve of my hip.

As though it is a crescent bay
your touch returning again and again
rising and lowering like the tides.

A heavenly body
your hand circling in orbit before
landing gently on the surface.

I hope that to you
it feels like home.
I imagine you feel a vague restless longing;
that something undefinable
makes every return a homecoming.

the smell of woodsmoke

a front porch light

that you know I am here waiting.

southern martyr

I'm proud of myself for putting SOMETHING up every week here lately. My muse has taken to whispering in my ear again. May he linger past the heartbreak this time around.

Friday, January 15, 2010

I've not got much today...

But what I've got is mine.

I'm hungry.
I'm tired.
I'm angry.
I burnt dinner.
My toe hurts.
My best friend's B-Day present is on someone else's porch.
My heart still aches.
I know I'm alive.

southern martyr 1-15-10

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Battle not with monsters...

lest ye become a poet. For a long time I convinced myself I was just uttering these poems into the abyss. The abyss has started whispering back. My muse has returned. I knew that if I made myself write every little trivial thing that skitters across my mind then more and more words would come crawling out of the woodwork, but with quantity does not come quality. However, if I stop then I fear the words will stop. So here I go again. Unpolished and perhaps unfinished, my offering:


He's dark and he's pale
He's coffee and wine
He's strong and he's frail
He's rough and he's fine

He's hot and he's cool
He's godly and base
He's wise and a fool
Devil's hand, angel's face

He loves and he hates
He pushes and waits
He's crooked and straight
My choice and my fate

Bourbon on my tongue
and sorrow on my mind
The grace I've lost
and still hope to find

A blessing and a curse
The crossing and the line
Sonnets and blank verse
All or Nothing at the same time

southern martyr

Friday, January 8, 2010

Life's but a walking shadow...

I resisted as long as I could.
It called to me.
There's no other explanation as to why I knew it was out there
- cold, snow dusted, untrod -
waiting for me.
Waiting for the press of my feet.
Straining for the sound of my crossing.
The sky so grey that no shadow would betray my passing.

"...a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more."

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Problem Solving

Boss wanted me to make a new pot of coffee because we had guests coming. There was still at least a half a pot of coffee left that was less than an hour old. Only one warmer on our coffee maker.

Problem solved: