Winter Solstice Sonnet
I’ve lived where the solstice air
freezes onto my mustache.
Where daylight is a vague glow
behind clouds of dirty slush.
I’ve felt that deep ancestral fear
that the sun has given up
and we’ll all shiver solid,
defeated by the menacing dark.
Light a candle with me tonight.
Share this bottle of wine.
Trust that our planet hasn’t spun
off into the eternal void
and tomorrow we’ll tilt toward summer
once again.
I’m pleased to announce that one of my chocolate holiday poems from Milkshakes and Chilidogs called “Treasure” was reprinted at Spillwords. Here’s your chance to read it, if you don’t own my chapbook.
And if you don’t own Milkshakes and Chilidogs yet, why not buy yourself a copy as a present? Maybe two, so you’ll have one to give away.
It’s available in both paperback and a Kindle versions.
Thoughts on Spacetime While Making a Bed
Gravity repulses me
I feel it dragging
and distorting my space
like struggling to walk
upstream neck-deep in a river
I envy the crows balanced
on tree top branches
dancing with each breeze
perched there as naturally
as I squat on the Earth
If there were no gravity
I’d grab the highest leaf
with my opposable thumbs
survey the curved horizon
delighting in the dream
Because if there were no gravity
the universe would be monotonous
no trees— no thumbs
just a thin soup of hydrogen
with the occasional helium atom
No oxygen
no iron
no blood
no skin
no bodies
Deforming the sheets
after a long night
orbiting each other
pulled together
by mutual attraction
The Prolific Pulse featured my chapbook Milkshakes & Chilidogs!
I read this awesome book of poetry by Bartholomew Barker. Here are just a few of the reviews for this book.
You can get your own copy on Amazon
For a Distant Muse
If you lived next door,
I’d knock.
The wine has draped
my evening’s work
like burgundy velvet.
The music is tea with milk.
Candle shadows
and incense ghosts
fill the room.
I’m ready to curl
around your warmth
and drift into dreams.
But our doors open onto a canyon
that only your inspiration can leap.
Leftover Lament
Here I sit
in the back
of the fridge
waiting
for the sudden light
a distant face
a rummaging hand
then rapture
the lo mein left yesterday
the pizza box was taken today
I’d rather be consumed
than tossed for slow decay
Here— in the back
of the frig
Written for today’s Living Poetry Prompt.
Last Meal
From death row
I want my last meal
to be Thanksgiving
A crackling brown turkey
carved by my father
with a serrated knife
my mother prefers
the tasty dark meat
give me the juicy white
my brother mixed stuffing
with his bare hands
spiced with too much sage
lumpy mashed potatoes
still with the skins
salt pepper and butter
Passing serving plates
heaped with memory
grandmother to granddaughter
uncles to nephews
cousins to cousins to cousins
it’s the stories
I remember
more than the food
For dessert
the proverbial pumpkin pie
nutmeg and whipped cream
and my family busts me out
just before midnight
(Inspired by this week’s Living Poetry Prompt. Happy Thanksgiving!)
New moon smiles in the west
Her majesty escorted by two giants
All around the world poets swoon
At twilight tonight and tomorrow, check out the western sky and you’ll see the crescent moon with two bright stars, which are the planets Jupiter and Saturn. Here’s wishing you Clear Skies!
She reads by moonlight—
real books of ink and paper.
She watches television
with the sound off.
She leaves Spotify running
as she fades to sleep—
volume low as a blanket
so she’ll dream her own songs.
She loves my poetry but never
wants to meet the poet.
She’d rather fill in the gaps
with her imagination.
I’d just destroy her image of me
with my mundane reality.
 | Bartholomew Barker on Startling Starlings |
| Bartholomew Barker on The End |
 | Lisa Tomey on Startling Starlings |
| Lisa Tomey on The End |
| Bartholomew Barker on The End |
