Archive for the 'Catherine Glover' Category

Posted by: junenoir81 | 4th Apr, 2008

Vengeance is the Lord’s circa 1972

The coolest hippie choker ever lies against my neck, yellow and green wooden beads strung on a piece of knotted leather, separated by washers and bolts, warmed by my skin, a gift from one of my father’s artist friends. Sighing deeply, I untie the knot and stuff it into my gym bag. Sweat, slamming lockers, the embarrassed turning of bodies to corners, avoiding stares at flat chests or big busts, nobody happy with their middle school body – my world. And, fear – fear of big, different, scary, not-my-friend, Delores Parker.

Flash forward one class period. Surviving Delores, relieved to hear the bell, I reach for my choker. Gone! Frustration sears behind my eyelids. I scrabble in the bottom of my bag, desperate to find it, certain my prized possession has been stolen.

Flash forward – a day later. Delores Parker, the hallway and my green and yellow hippie gear gleaming in the folds of her puffy neck. I walk past her and stare, but she doesn’t meet my eyes. She knows that she is flaunting her ill-gotten gains in my face. I am too weak to confront her but I am no snitch. She sails down the hall, not a care in the world, confident that her theft will go unpunished.

Flash forward – a year later – a new school, a new town and news from home…Delores Parker: dead from some dread disease; her life cut short, her future done and I feel…vindicated? That is too strong a word – confused? I ponder, in my secret, silent heart. Did she deserve this karma? Immediately guilty, I rewind and revise my thinking.

Flash forward – the yearbook dedication and her photo. I summon tears. I had no part in her demise. Vengeance is always the Lord’s.

Posted by: Dave | 3rd Apr, 2008

Battle Sonnet #1 – My Rhymes Are Swords

My rhymes are swords that slice the ear – a drum
beat in the heat of passions quivering,
shivering slivers of the too-tame strum
heartstrings, yo, my art sings delivering

you. Mundane, inane . . . bane of our existence!
Resist! Exist for non-conformity –
the enormity is in persistence
beyond complacency. Deformity

of the soul begins with its submersion
through coercion and capitulation.
Dominant paradigm in subversion!
Wielding brandished words in adulation,

we, unlikely victors in this conquest.
Submit! Subdued, game over, no contest!

Posted by: Meghan C | 3rd Apr, 2008

backwards god

it is no mistake
dog is backwards god.

but what is backwards
if not simple,and what is simple
if not joy,
and what is joy
if not dog?

sunday,
in the company
of a backwards god,
i tiptoe barefoot into eden
at daybreak.

rain plops.
dropping spring splashes
my cooling
coffee, each sip,
a front yard communion.

he noses between
dripping leaves,
pads over bark mulch
to make his mark.

day lilies swell and press
the driveway edge,
ready to rupture into a riot
of pink, orange, red.
a stand of spiderwort sags,
blue-headed, heavy.

disciple-like, i follow,
soaking in a garden jungle,
past waterlogged branches,
through gossamer threads
of some invisible web.

a single, pollen-bright stem
stripes my white shirt,
with yellow dust
that i will notice later,
like his paw print
left on my heart, a gift
of unconditional love.

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