Three down
Four across
It took you four tries on 14
I said it would take me one but guess how many it took?
The sky is blue, grass is green
The tomatoes can be purple like a bruise
Outside a small town in the middle of Oklahoma
There is part of my Self buried in the red dirt
It depends on what the definition of ‘is’ is
None of these words make sense
This is me ignoring the way you say the word ‘home’
Like you built it with your hands to protect a tiny bird
-rjm
loose threads
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Jo McCrory is a writer and artist living in northern California.
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Remember how I was going to write a little bit every day in November and then mash it up into something horrendous and likely highly offensive to my peers in the writing community?
other writers probably I started strong; there are obvious running themes and even on struggle days, I could say SOMETHING about it. And then…chaos descended at work and at home. I have been too tired to think for a few weeks, I made myself sick by acting like I still live in a 20-something body (lol), and I decided to temporarily suspend all logical thought one day. Didn’t succeed in an entry for each day but came pretty damn close. Anyway, without further ado, here are…some words in verse form!
1
Halloween haunts in hangovers
Faces painted gray with the memories of a hundred families
Hatred fueling hatred
You cannot build a holy land on the graves of children
But we do
We always do
2
Waning light, waning moon, my heart waxing in my chest while the merry-go-round gains speed, throwing off bodies into ether, moments of laughter silenced in moments of thunderous calamity, and people wring their hands, afraid to say that maybe we should stop the ride, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out what is so scary about pleading for Death to take a day, a week, a month, a lifetime off
3
somewhere there is a light shining
I just know it
even if I can’t see it
it’s there
shining
4
we were online at the same time
I thought of you in your pajamas
They’re blue flannel pants and an old tshirt, in my mind
Tucked into bed
Buzzing with the last dregs of adrenaline
Paying your five minute penance
To the hungry eyes of the faceless thousands
To these two eyes
In particular
5
rain falls soft beyond
in redwoods, a hummingbird
sunday afternoon
6
times marches on
it is unfair
it is cruel
this duality of life
death and renewal hand-in-hand
whispering vows into bleeding pomegranates
7
there is nothing can be done
‘cept walk for’ard
Eyes to the ground
Heart to the sky
8
bullets and bombs
kill children
the same way
no matter
where they were born
9
accelerate our protons
the star’s already dead
a thread of light through time
which is to say
i love you
10
I deserve to have my failures documented and listed
I only wish I were better equipped
At handling criticism
11
in the end, there was only the end
12
flight of the bumblebee inside my chest
13
_______
14
nostalgia is a pinch in my chest
I don’t understand why
You were never a part of that mess
But I could feel you stirring my demons
Directing them to line up before you
Sacrificial lambs will give easily
When they’re so tired of the weight
15
The moon has hidden herself for days
So distraught she is at all she sees
16
called to silence
begin again
does your need grow from roots?
do you die if you don’t write?
i hoped it was true
but here I am
What doesn’t kill you (me)
Strengthens you (also me)
17
18
19
do you like to watch
do you think about
possibility
chance meetings
getting coffee or
grabbing a snack
shall we take some fresh air
together?
20
21
a line of children’s shoes
waiting for visitors
that will never arrive
i hope they dreamed they were flying
22
23
24
fresh snow has fallen over the roses
cherries in cream
you gasp when i tuck my cold nose beneath your earlobe
25
26
loose threads 