Publishing two days in row calls for a post. I know, I know, I’m terrible at keeping up. But I’m busy writing other things – and submitting – and getting through grad school – and raising an 8 year old – and trying to not sleep as much as possible – and add a few hundred more things.
Just popping in to say so excited for the last day and spread the love for the two wonderful places I have been accepted in!
http://drunkinamidnightchoir.com/2015/03/31/four-poems-jacqueline-kirkpatrick/
Here. This is my soul. Every thing I was in lines and pauses. Everything I am in quiet whispers and guarded truths. Wait to see if it’s all rejected.
obsessed with obituaries lately ~ so much living in dying.
Cool black night thru redwoods
cars parked outside in shade
behind the gate, stars dim above
the ravine, a fire burning by the side
porch and a few tired souls hunched over
in black leather jackets. In the huge
wooden house, a yellow chandelier
at 3 A.M. the blast of loudspeakers
hi-fi Rolling Stones Ray Charles Beatles
Jumping Joe Jackson and twenty youths
dancing to the vibration thru the floor,
a little weed in the bathroom, girls in scarlet
tights, one muscular smooth skinned man
sweating dancing for hours, beer cans
bent littering the yard, a hanged man
sculpture dangling from a high creek branch,
children sleeping softly in their bedroom bunks.
And 4 police cars parked outside the painted
gate, red lights revolving in the leaves.
– ginsberg
Dinner for two. Tuna fish sandwiches. A garage sale kitchen table. Pretending we aren’t interested in the answers.
Van Morrison reminds me of a brown skinned boy on blanket, sharing headphones, dreaming of what it would be like to love one another.
Happy 5/8
Jacqueline Kirkpatrick 