do not like this post

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(#i’ll tell you why the poets)

because i don’t want to talk about the weather
because i don’t want to talk about the latest episode of
because i don’t know my place
because the odometer rolls over and another mile begs
because get outside of yourself, humbled and exalted at the same time
because ya know, they’re tricky
because words do sound better than that when they spin and actually taste just fine with whisky
because a good poet and editor will fix that last line
eyedrop of magic
spitshine formaldehyde
because we only get one life to be conscious about
because woke ain’t no joke or hipster invention
because i have something to say and those fools on the bus wouldn’t listen
because avocado trees and rabid raccoons
because 4am rain
and because i can make coffee anywhere
while the heart stays tuned to that certain beat
i wonder if they know how much i love them
how much i need them
how much the world needs them
christ’s sake, the ego-
tell no one, but listen.


heyyMichele McDannold is the author of Stealing the Midnight from a Handful of Days, a book of poetry available from PUNK HOSTAGE PRESS. She was the Editor-in-Chief at Red Fez Publications for five years and is currently the editor/publisher at Citizens for Decent Literature. She has an extensive collection of flannel and rubber chicken heads. For more, please visit michelemcdannold.com.

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too far/not far enough, misguided maybe but do what you can

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first couple months living in the Artspace building i spent most of my time staring out the window. in awe of the view that was now mine. mine? it’d been a while since i’d felt secure in a place so it’s not a shitty mine, it’s a relief mine.

anyway. the looking off in the distance view is great. and since my apartment includes space on the corner of the building, it’s doubly great.

closer to home, i have a look straight down view of franklin street. this fascinated me. most of the people walking by, a fair amount and sometimes a whole bunch, were either very rich looking or very poor looking. foot traffic-wise, i have a good view of only this block so it’s not an observation born of how great their car is. most people are walking by from parked or moving on from elsewhere. to be honest the why of i’m still not entirely sure of. except that some of the poor i’m talking about are carting their belongings with them up from having slept in washington park. this having come to light from some of my super early morning walks down to the lakeshore. Charles R. Westcott Park?? anyone? anyone?? i’ve walked there even more often and never saw a single person enjoying the park other than the couple of times i rambled in there to see someone sleeping on the back corner bench and once off behind in the weeds.

i digress.

the entirety is granted, somewhat of a half-assed observation based solely on dress and walking demeanor. still, if i wasn’t so poor, i’d bet money that i was correct a majority of the time. i wouldn’t have said so back then. back then was just curious, noticing and wondering.

these days, i’m not wondering about the potential problem. i’m just wondering about the solution.

our building is pretty diverse. gotta give it up to artspace for that. i have plenty of complaints.. hi i’m miss opposition, thank you. but on this important point, i see obvious effort that paid off. pretty impressive when you think about it for two seconds. odds are good that it’s at least part of the reason involved when there is grumbling around the city about “waste of taxpayer’s money.”

don’t roll your eyes at me. i don’t think it’s hanging any more but a few months back, less than a mile from here, hung an over-sized confederate flag from the front porch.

i’m an introvert. not running around the streets trying to engage..anyone, to be honest. i can get away with that for the most part. because i’m WHITE. unfortunately, i am also a WOMAN. bully for you Indiana. you are more misogynistic than Illinois. i had no idea. point being, despite a fairly non-confrontational way about things, i have ended up in yelling back and forth fits in the street more than a couple of times, walking just in these few blocks.

i can’t imagine what it must be to walk around here a POC or anyone thumbing their nose, obviously, at gender norms. or anyone (GASP) looking to be showing too much affection to someone of the same sex.

one grown man (whitey) calling another grown man (POC): boy. BOY.

my guess is that POC would only be amused at how angry this makes me. i would guess that based on a completely unphased reaction by one of our (POC) residents when physically threatened by a whole group of whities toting baseball bats and fucking crocodile dundee knives i mean wtf!!!!!

i don’t want to hear this shit is minor…or, turn on the news and open your eyes, it’s so much worse. yeah, agreed. it’s so much worse that we must pay attention to the “minor” shit.

the arts district is not reserved for the elite. not reserved for the straight, white people. ALL ARE WELCOME. It’s the friggin’ arts for fuck’s sake.

i cannot guarantee, even, what happens when you leave here, walking to your car or just down the road.. but KNOW this: the only people not welcome to this event (https://www.facebook.com/events/121652431787594) or any other event i’m involved in organizing here, are the hatemongers. bigots, i know you’re often quiet about it and who can fucking tell, but understand: zero time will be allowed for that BS.

that is all.

thanks much for reading,
mm (nice white lady full of smiles)

in that all matters complicate and refine

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the morning sun +
daybreak’s cigarette smoke
fill the room.
his drawers on the floor
where i left them last night

it’s been months since
i could even breathe a poem (prayer)
tried communing with those clown car gods–the poets
they had both good & silly things
to say about love, life
and the great & sad state of humanity

i breathe fire, she said
i’ll swallow that whole, he replied

ever walk into a bar only to become
witness to an intervention?
the tiniest thing rules the entire room

now the scent of bacon
& gear sounds, shifting on down the road
the waning summer wind already too cold with the lake effect

i’ll watch the leaves turn from this window

turn in my seat–
i can touch the palm of your foot
i can dwell in the chest of your heart
soft like pudding
or play-doh,
i haven’t decided which.


heyyMichele McDannold is the author of Stealing the Midnight from a Handful of Days, a book of poetry available from PUNK HOSTAGE PRESS. She was the Editor-in-Chief at Red Fez Publications for five years and is currently the editor/publisher at Citizens for Decent Literature. She has an extensive collection of flannel and rubber chicken heads. For more, please visit michelemcdannold.com.

Gluestick and a bunch of photos i took while driving. there are a bunch because you don’t look and just snap snap snap, hope for the best. sounds a bit like life sometimes. no idea about gluestick before but now i know, it was awesome and i’ll be back.

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https://gluestickfest.wordpress.com/

ps that 1st pic is Craig making a zine on our drive down there which was damn lovely as well. he gave it away to a now not stranger during the fest. hearts were won, mine anyway. viva la underground

vagrant observations

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West Coast Notebook Re-Entry Poem

if only all days
were the ways
in which
the rainbow propagates
into jumbo mouse ears.
wrought iron fences shaped to
hold the childhood in.
what sort of wicked porn
turned this into
a busty lustful waterfall moment
a wife-beater
wet w/ sweat moment
the are you joking me
about the avocados moment.
only in the absurd
does absolute purity
dine on skin flick

the center of the country pretends these margins do not exist
while they’re ogling all over it
while they’re licking the sweat right off!
it’s an interesting slice of pie


heyyMichele McDannold is the author of Stealing the Midnight from a Handful of Days, a book of poetry available from PUNK HOSTAGE PRESS. She was the Editor-in-Chief at Red Fez Publications for five years and is currently the editor/publisher at Citizens for Decent Literature. She has an extensive collection of flannel and rubber chicken heads. For more, please visit michelemcdannold.com.

sometimes i forget i have a blog

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cityscapes while sitting on a cold, cold stone

it’s been a full day
business + reminisce,
lake shore & shoreline.
the city-
it costs to walk the streets here.
unnoticed is unpaid…
not everyone has a dream beyond
a warm meal and a safe bed.

street gospel thaws a pedestrian
every 6 or 7 turns.
that’s not too bad
but it’s not too good either.

can you tell me where the yellow brick road goes
when unaccompanied by
red sequined shoes?

bitch, ain’t nobody
got time for that.