
Northwest Tip


Silly days design corn mazes.
I got lost in one as a child,
melted into the corn
like butter.
Then woke up again,
refrigerated,
with breasts in my topography,
popcorn lethal to me.
Who is that child playing
at the opening of the labyrinth?
Is there anything more
frightening than entering eternity?
Yes.
Leaving it.
They carry shovels,
concrete mix.
The soil opens before them like a purse.


Flowers coagulate in the
living room you can’t see
because I have strung ten thousand
chandeliers from the foil ceiling.
The season is polished,
a wave of salt rolls over
the soil at the other end of the street
but here is nothing but
the tang of chlorophyll and breath.
Enclosed in my equatorial dress,
I am as a letter to the star,
whose power I painted
electrical in a posh home,
mixed media mural on my ceiling,
cheap imitation regality.
The ground shakes.
The scent of salt
blossoms from the door.
Tears in my pale eyes,
petals shriveling.
And still my lights do not
go out.
Yesterday our world was smothered by ice. A fog rolled in during the afternoon, and then all of it froze. Every blade of grass was covered in white icing. Every street was a skating rink. It was too risky to drive anywhere, so we stayed in by the fire. Our house feels so cozy with the new sofa and my new painting and my lamp decorated for the autumn/winter season.
Today I went to At Home, then drove for awhile, then went to Trader Joe’s. I came home and began to work on revising and posting some poetry, when I suddenly got so tired I had to lay down. I just got up. The only reason I’m up is because it was time for our wonderful babysitter, G, to go home and I wanted to hear about Angelica’s day and sign G’s log book for her hours.
I am hoping to write tonight after Craig goes to bed early for his second day shift. He’ll go to bed around 6. I haven’t written fresh poems in weeks due to..problems.
I revamped the magazine! The literary magazine I founded and edit has been on hiatus for awhile. Summer was filled with instability and travel, as was the fall. I contacted Duotrope and got the magazine listed to show up in searches for several genres and styles. I hadn’t realized it before, but the way my little litmag was listed it only showed up under general searches – along with thousands of others. If anyone searched for their particular genre or style, which most people do, my magazine wouldn’t have shown up.
Now I’m looking for science fiction, poetry, art, horror, magical realism, memoir, the supernatural (no, I don’t mean Twilight fanfic), poetry chapbooks, and more. I want my magazine to be one of the best – not necessarily by ranking, but from publishing interesting writing. Basically the magazine will be part poetry, part weird or dark writing, and part art. Photography, painting, glass, etc. It might seem eclectic, but I am making a magazine that I want to read. I hadn’t opened my mind to much genre fiction before, but I love it and nothing would make me happier than to have some dystopian fiction and horror in my inbox. It feels a little odd to mix that in with poetry, but I will see how it goes.
I redesigned the site as much as I could without the help of an actual web designer. I changed the banner, made new pages, updated the about and submissions pages etc. Hopefully it looks nicer.
Oval ounces of flutterby breeziness
string across the
marinating grass like
crystal balls.
I have been seen through to.
Beneath the weight of the future
blades snap.

