Phyllis Jean Green
Writing Bug bit when I was 8. Little prize at 12, that was IT. Now, if I just had time to actually put the words swirling in my head on paper. But life is what it is. Laziness and reverberations from a chaotic childhood combined with pressures having to do with gender and class and time slipped past. I messed up, okay? Add normal distractions like marriage, parenthood, returns to school, juggling jobs. . .. . you get the picture. Got a bag of excuses, take all you like. . ~{P}~ By 1986. . .{contin'd at www.authorsden.com/phyllisjeangreen; thanks.}Visit Author's Website
Carve our Initials Next
Drunk on playing hooky and Wild
Turkey, slip to the creek to make love,
oblivious to the danger presented
by sharp rocks and woken snakes.
Any minute now, a camper’s going
to stagger from a nearby tent, waving
a flashlight with one hand, grabbing
his fly with the other. Spy us
and forget to pee. So?? Got […]
L o n e s o m e
L o n e s o m e
is
the click of the lock
on a door as it closes
in your face
then the chain slides home
is
the sliver of light
silence swallows
laughter leaving you out
all night whispers
is
dark torturing dusk
before moving in for the kill
raising gooseflesh
as it follows you to work
and back not seeing not
feeling not
but for shadows that stalk
as your […]
Your lap, Your Chinese Checkers
The little eggshell bungalow
sporting the racket-making swing,
pink and blue hydrangeas
big as conch shells
and a woman who knew
a child needed
- to be held — to be fed -
- to be sat in a corner -
- to be let out to dream
in the shade of a sweet-smelling
magnolia -
The little eggshell bungalow
that never moved
that never changed
the child knew
- […]
De-iced, now What?
It was as if she were a comet,
then he,
then she,
on and on, orbiting
faster and faster,
first gathering ice, then burning
it away by veering close
to the sun.
First he,
then she,
then up for grabs.
Neither chose to be
a comet. Certainly
not a pair.
What, and be content
to find pieces of oneself
flying into ether
while others loosen
from their moorings?
Admit the stratosphere
made him […]
Book Review: A Brother’s Journey
A Brother’s Journey, Richard B. Pelzer, Warner Books, NY: Time Warner, 2005
It is not often that I am at a loss for words. Yet weeks after finishing A Brother’s Journey, I am struggling to find a way to describe the horror and sorrow the story evokes. Ordinary terms feel wrong. Children were tortured. […]
Dancing Still
One moment you were on your sagging porch
cavorting to the sturm und drang of an August
strangler. Cymbals clanged and thunder clapped,
telling us it would be your final performance.
Telling you? Rain! you sang with all the voice
you had left. Rain!! God, but I love
a good storm. Lightning pale and lightning
thin, light as the wisps of mist-silvered […]
