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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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.

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.

love needs an explanation?

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Café

We pick up from the streets, words
and skin stretched
thin over
mother’s lips.
Dumpster love along the spillway, free;
sunshine through the way. She
dances to the jukebox,
a knife in back of cowboy lust
to celebrate the waitress.

Open sign askew a door
of rust and nails of regret
scratchandspitandspew
coffee dust.

from Stealing the Midnight from a Handful of Days


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.

gas station dialogue

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Found Mister D #7

no problem-
have a good night
tires are washed out
clutch is sticking
dr pepper, not much
else is clicking
their dad needs his lotto cards
pays with a roll of quarters
he goes back in one more time
the sixth


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.

love

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soon my teeth will fall out
and the broken glass on the floor
will get cleaned up
how on earth can a mind be unrest
while dealing in such certainties
i walk the dogs
i prepare a meal
things are folded without nary a thought
i’ll cradle this one little word until i die
even if it kills me


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.