Come in from the garden
through the back door
a few steps up
there is grandmother’s kitchen
big room with a huge farmhouse
table and there she
kneads dough
her loose white skin
moving with each punch
Some loaves are already in the oven
the yeasty smell fills the house
baked in the old gas oven
until grandmother knows
exactly when to take it out
slices and serves with strawberry jam
to waiting grandchildren
“All the lost fears are here again.” Rilke
the screen goes black and I can’t
write anymore
my self is my greatest critic
and my greatest fear
will I stop loving God
not today
Jilly’s prompt
A hundred years or more
Never going one hundred miles from home
Her art crossed her borders
Black Jesus on the Cross
oil on canvas board
Two black angels overhead
Feminine Black Jesus
Blood drips from the wrists
no hands
Blood drips down to the flowers
on either side
Blood drops in the garden
found poem at the tire shop
How much tread do you need to stop?
The creek is rising
More flooding on the way
Like a fire drill
The prison evacuates
Busloads of prisoners
Flood the roads
Incarcerated travel
To the same destination
From prison to prison
Can’t get away
Study the system
Prison reform today
at the tire shop
Ask for details
Get certified
Avoid the non repairable
Move into repairable area
Covers the future
Road hazard damage
Providing peace of mind
at the tire shop
poem from advertisement at the tire shop
There is new dawn arising
Have I heard this sung before?
It is coming in the morning
Without warning in its song.
Some call it revelation
Some a paradigm shift
Some say dispensation
A new dawn in our midst.
a character sketch
Forged in the art world
Is yours real?
Ahead of her time
Painted on anything
If you see one
What a find
Black grandmother Moses
Painting her scenes
of going to church
Baptism funeral and flowers
Plantation livin’
Her cotton pickin’ memories
Cotton Crucifixion
Bold statement for her time
A crucified black Lord Jesus
Hangin’ high
Between two cotton bales
That hold crosses of the thieves
Clementine saw the black Lord Jesus
The same one that rescued me
It was not another Jesus
bleedin’ on that tree
It was her Jesus
The one that she could see
Clementine Hunter was a Louisiana artist. She picked cotton in her younger years and later in life picked paints and brush and said she could “mark” a picture if she would “sot her mind to it”.
I need a key to unlock your lug nuts.
What?
It took a few seconds to register.
I am at the tire place.
Oh, yes,
my lug nuts!
wordshophop 