if you want to go far

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mattress

back by sometime still called monday

we travel by landmark and compass
an itinerary that
not only includes
but demands
getting lost

what’s needed
is
highly re-evaluated

we have friends in every port–
some will pull through
and some will
forget what day it is

piss by the side of the road
carry various weaponary
but most importantly
always carry a can opener

you do have to know
a stranger when you see one

be careful out there
safe travels, all that

clues to watch out for are:
uniforms.
and anyone else sunk so low
all they have is
it’s us or them..
look for desperation
never forget crazy
and anyone thinking they
have/need/are
power.
the bloodlust riffs off them
loud as sirens, those ones

sometimes they come with smiles
but still
you usually know.

-Michele McDannold 3/26/15


Michele 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.

can i get a woot woot

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book-launch-flyer

PUNK HOSTAGE PRESS presents Stealing the Midnight from a Handful of Days by Michele McDannold. Sunday, March 15th, 4pm @Stories. Michele will be reading selections from her book along with fellow Punk Hostage Press LA publishers, writers and poets Iris Berry, A. Razor, S.A. Griffin, Pleasant Gehman, Rich Ferguson, Jon Hess and Jessica M. Wilson https://www.facebook.com/events/339679002900020/


Michele 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.

if only you could bottle it

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if all i left him with
was a tshirt
i’m sorry
the finer points
must have been
well-missed, then

but somehow i doubt it

that entire album
the smell of that one shampoo
and if i can be so bold
a handful of moments
unique but not so rare
in how easy it was
between us

just some mushy shit

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dreaming of your arms but woke up freezing. into all the unspoken, in every language that there is– love is both the easiest and hardest to translate. il mio amore, such missness. sleep more now in my coat. maybe i need to reconsider my substitutions.

when progress is working your way back

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bathroom-viewthe call came at a time of quiet panic, days of vinyl, solitude and warmth. turns out you can panic anywhere. faced with being stuck in a witness booth, a glass case–out of harm’s way but in the thick of it, just the same. recording the events with heartbreaking precision. the most recent undoing, detached and yet tethered to another wreck. doesn’t matter at that point if i caused it or not, passed the tipping and yet unsunk is still no time to get analytical about it. ‘actionable items only’ is the mantra of the survivor. so the timing was perfect for that call…

on a lighter note– was thinking instead of blurbs on my next book, perhaps psychiatric notations on the various dysfunctions on display. that could be interesting, yeah?