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
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.
trading a brown bag beer
from the rite-aid
for a cold
one
in my sweater..
i told you these are
important decisions.
gliding down sunset blvd
when the gradients are just right
the differently-abled humps her walker
at the bus stop
blowing devotions
at the moon sky
& all the while
that twinkle in her eye
a judgment on the navigational
misfortune
of too many things in a day
we are what we wish for hard enough
only in LA, baby
only in LA
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.
possible i might
not come down
from this
highway crest
in the clouds
here comes the rain, just
a sprinkle
one could feel cold
except the sun-direct
patches of light
you know what it
reminds me of?
as does everything
right now…
when i leave this
mountain
will i leave the memory
of you
here too?
tell me how
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.
Have you ever been passed super duper hungry, passed the grumbles.. onto the deep, empty ache which is bad enough on its own but really suck bubbly when the grumbles return again on top of it so you drink bad, cheap coffee and foolishly smoke cigarettes to stave and forget by at least feeding one sad gnawing need the fix it calls for… by the gallonful.
yeah. blows chunks.
but that is not now. now is a time of fruition and abundance. a time of loving friends, open hearts, french toast and bacon even, bitches. it’s glorious with syrup and supreme gratefulness. Thank you, hoosiers. i love you.
i enjoy this time, think about straightening my shit up and remembering with humility and reverence–the other hand of fate. careful to remain thankful for both the trials and the triumphs.
this time reminds me of a certain not too long ago Santa Monica/Venice–that day trip with Jessie Jay Indigo Child and Loopo the traveling dog. dog being a misnomer for this lovely soul. and i don’t even like dogs. a short detour first to the Human Services Office for a fresh, food card. i sat in the jeep with the marijuana not really drugs (mine) and the dog, making a peanut butter jelly sammich and loving the shade of a lush california tree. no evidence of the drought here in this inner city government office complex parking lot. only name badges and lines. we–to be counted for eating. take it however you want, it’s a strange thing to grant ‘not starving.’
Then a drive through Topanga Canyon beautiful to Santa Monica green foodie co-op. we thanked Obama for the lovely lunch…food i forget the name but never had before and enjoyed thoroughly. onto the venice beach from a sweet slow day parking spot, just strolled a few blocks right up there. off the shoes and down down down the beach because last time i was too frightened stunned to go too close to the edge. even though it’s the easiest thing. it’s days like that will keep you full and days like that you really hunger for.
thoroughly enjoyed Wednesday night’s reading at The Terrace Room. props to the host of the evening– Paul Corman-Roberts. excellent mix of brought their own damn version of kick-ass to the mic, every single one of them. July Westhale, Arisa White, Neeli Cherkovski, A. Razor, and Alexandra Naughton.
this reading was !!FREE!! and open to the public.
so this is a restraurant/bar with a nice view of the lake, on the ground floor of a better-to-do retirement joint. word is the mac n cheese was meh and personally thought the drinks were a bit light on the liquor content though pleasant enough service. a little addition from a flask would solve this problem. nice seating though a little dimly lit, the readers were aided by fake votive candles and had the use of a nice mic and podium. seating was decent and the restrooms were extra damn nice.
shout out to MK Chavez, for letting me know about this event, driving me to it, her precise parking skills and informative and interesting sidenotes about local whatnots along the drive.
this was taken right outside the venue, prior to the reading. smoking like a fiend of course but enjoying the view, getting to meet fellow Punk Hostage press author Joel Landmine (Yeah, Well by Joel Landmine), watching some documentary thing be filmed, I don’t know, ask Alexandra Naughton.
so, i took pictures of all the readers and the host but they’re all blurry and mostly unflattering or whatnot and who needs to be yelled at for some more of that shit? not me, yo. i’m still going to post this one of Alexandra because despite weird lighting camera problems, i think it captures the moment, the rockstar and also not to burst your bubble all five people that will read this but I think she’s probably too nice to beat me up over it.
this was outside, after. sitting on the steps to smoke and escape as much social anxiety enducing stuff as possible.
this was the lighter i used, umm creatively borrowed from Blotterature’s Michelle L. Quinn at the last Blot Lit gig I was able to make it to. I gave it away to a man on the street yesterday. He was suffering, he said. blocking traffic with his wheelchair ..in a confused state. What he really wanted and was quite honest about right off the bat was for me to help him by going to buy him some wine. He would take a smoke though and did indeed need a light. dropped a Kind bar off to him on the way back through which he seemed to really be thankful for. He also seemed to really want to keep the lighter — but that’s cool with me I’ve got about a bazillion. anyway, last known picture of this served me well lighter.. weird blurry selfie that reminds me that i need to buy conditioner where we stopped after because gin that puts a forrest in your mouth and slumber party exorcisms are rad and sometimes necessary on the way home, another sign. there’s been an abundance as of late and i’m thankful dear universe. i was particularly happy to be introduced to the writing of Arisa White (http://arisawhite.com/) during this reading. i believe most of if not all of what she read was from her latest full-length collection A Penny Saved. highly recommend this. what i heard of it was heavy, accessible and brilliant.
from Willow Books (http://aquariuspress.myshopify.com/collections/poetry/products/a-penny-saved) In her second full-length collection, A Penny Saved, Arisa White’s elegantly harrowing poems investigate the idea of the “captive” within spousal abuse. Often utilizing the voice of the “good wife” Penny, these poems bring to the fore the effects of mental abuse in juxtaposition to a patriarchal world that tries to swallow the voice of Penny. White’s poems drift from stream of consciousness—to afterthought—to dialogue in a way that exhibits her flexible and intimate relationship with language. With this dexterity, Penny’s voice is realized.
i was also quite happy to see Punk Hostage Press co-founder A. Razor at the mic again. my own personal opinion from the handful of readings i’ve seen him do, my favorite..just off the roadtrip from hell and a hospital visit case of the flu pukes, he brought it still. it just doesn’t compare to seeing it live which you must– but here, one that’s stood the test of at least nearing on 3 decades and still rings true and necessary. never forget words matter. from Drawn Blood, a steal at $9.95 (https://www.createspace.com/3923496)
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.
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.
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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.
Rule #1 