the stars in the sky act up, then settle

she stares at a midnight page
frankness, beginning and end
the cure, a changing heart

i am not art
but I know her

resting on park bench
she contemplates lateral thinking
how they had smirked
at her “what ifs”

she tries to wrap her mind around it
the idea that ink found new home in nice-looking flowery jacket
with half-crazed sunny-faced owner

thoughts dismissed
time to write new page

by mary ann blinkhorn

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you run perpetually from an oscillating eyeball

the echo of you
leaves words heightened
meeting tomorrow’s deadline

you sit smugly
smashing a mean upper breeze
grimacing with delight
your arm injured
your own unique set of words
falling through pavement

i review the glanced-upon tightened lines
why do i fumble
why not rise gracefully with delightful words

by mary ann blinkhorn

tugging at commas

puffed-up writer
compellingly follows idea
stops dramatically
delivering fragments

lesson learned:
ink that skips and jumps
follows paper

writer friend to writer friend:
you may rest your head on my creative shoulder…

watching blues dance
with downturned pen
in a field of irony
is like decidedly dancing
with snapped wings
and cardboard teeth
not worth writing about
let it go

by mary ann blinkhorn