Porch Sessions #2 (Survey)

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while thinking about all those suicidal adults and your own relative story

pause
for a moment
focus on the why
a 2 month old child
might be referred to
CPS.

an acronym meaning
fucked
from the get-go.

you think i sell them short?
i don’t.

some are mistaken
and some will
pull through anyway,
some
     how

pull that focus back in
see the baby

cradle their head in your hands
check for head circumference.
do the eyes follow the light?
the sound of your voice?
when you stretch out those little legs,
how far do they go?
can you measure their weight
in your arms?
step onto the scale
& tell me.

check once,
twice,
three times…

this assessment will be over in approximately
90 minutes.

that’s really all the time we have
thank you for your input


heyyMichele McDannold is the author of the chapbook Point of Departure from COCKLEBUR PRESS and 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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porch sessions #1

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i am the tired of bones
tossed at sea &
washed up in a nether land
maybe you’ll find me &
maybe you won’t
that i thought you were looking
was probably my 1st mistake
i should find what makes for bones
or become an adornment
or a pulverized mix of things
meant for something special and mysterious…
like love
oh love
oblivious to coercion
does it wait on untended beaches
for washed-up things?
destiny is the trust of waves
and do you know what that looks like?


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.

think you better slow your mustang down

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sometimes you just want a classic.

something that comes together so
easily
over italian
wine
& cheesy lovesongs

he’s worried about barbarianism
when all it was to do about–
he was hungry

in stillness, i
amplify
the quiet solitude of forgiveness
mother love let’s us get away
with so much

like a caveman
he orgasms all over himself
it’s all put together so well
work in time
to do nothing but stare at
the wall
do city buildings taste as different
as city people?
maybe it’s the green.

no time to myself to fuck my own ass
while i jack off. these are the
funny notes i adore

several days of masterbating
that glass like a tippy egg
you will never know the truth of it

crossings roadtrip

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the horror

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america, great again

he’s not afraid to say nigger

he’s not afraid to scream it out the window
across the lawn
and down the way
a serene landscape where no one flinches

he’s not afraid to yell it in front of the children
in front of his wife
in front of god almighty and country
knowing fuck-all what it says to the world
let alone, the internal

and still he’s spitting hate
like baseball players and chewing tobacco
like fathers beat their children out of duty
out of war-torn memories
collapsed mines
& a nickel in your bucket means anything

tonight your woman dies in a back alley abortion
& the angels rejoice

this is progress.
where you can buy your tiki torches
at the home depot,
armband of the disenfranchised
sold separately

somewhere
baby jesus is weeping


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.

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.

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)