brave kettle boils and then clicks off silently

maddened mirror
drives the verse
to a different story
one-way clouds passing

I see it in your chain-link eyes
words strolling
past plain park bench
where nobody’s hat sits

fashion — a frilly portrait
stage rises
ink climbs
gathers new newts

let your eyes breathe, man
time is a would-be warm arm no longer
love — an open eye that sees the light

your verses breathe like skinny tall desserts
garnished with maraschino cherries
charm, style and mistakes

by mary ann blinkhorn

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Fitted Sunshine

Big fat sunshine
Writer tires of the dearest raindrops
All steps pushed aside

Their infuriating curiosity
In the rain
Her, her, him, he and she
Drenched brick minds
Complaining of writer’s block

Default silhouettes?
Just forget it.

Language is a radio
A thick shoulder
The equal part of the wall
That grabs the brain

 

By Mary Ann Blinkhorn