Tag Archives: National Poetry Month

Piano Man   It’s always dusk when I hear him through the open window. He plays a swaying melody, lyrical flights with a darker underpinning of dissonant harmonies.   Drawn to the music, two mockingbirds alight on the wire tonight, … Continue reading →

                        Year to Date   Months of Covid-induced sequestration helped me get work done as I multi-tasked my anxious brain into a mental fog.   In February, geese and buffleheads skidded on thin ice in the Huron River while I … Continue reading →

To preserve formatting, this poem has been saved as a PDF. Please click on the link below to access it. Arsenic Dance Bio: Kayla Hare is a poet and flash fiction writer from Birmingham, Alabama. She is currently in her … Continue reading →

Poseidon   He invited me to sit with him in the small wheelhouse which was faintly lit by the computer screens of a few navigational devices.   But, before the sun broke the horizon, The silent calmness was rudely interrupted … Continue reading →

MOUNTAIN VALLEY PIPELINE   I scroll down the sterile pixelated news, and whiffs of paper pulp don’t hang   in the air, and inky newsprint doesn’t stain my fingers. That transient stain as familiar   as the walnut hulls years … Continue reading →

Two-hearted “You look like a boy,” the child at the table next to me at the diner, hisses at me, “you don’t smell pretty like a girl.”  He’s a tow-headedtot – out of a squeaky-clean laundry ad.  Yet, his hiss … Continue reading →

That’s All She Wrote She was going to be a great lady, a literary lady of wordsSo she set out to write the great novel, to make sure that her voice could be heard.She wrote while her brain was on … Continue reading →

Where She Belongs     I pace the denuded streets, counting the humans who scurry by, their little skull faces aglow. Mornings are light-struck & female. Afternoons jumbled & loose. I try to remember why I decided to quit drinking. … Continue reading →

Survivors He calls – the boy I used to know, now a man, a reporter, asking me for an interview: how to make meaning out of senseless trauma years later, how to talk calmly about the other boy, his classmate, … Continue reading →

Come Together in a Solidarity Run Enchanted. Hypnotized with demise and astray with decay, the screaming lay bleeding at the grabbing urgency to run in protest of a disturbing uptick in anti-Asian hate. A broken peaceful future. The anger and … Continue reading →