Category Archives: Poetry

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Understanding

Posted on April 22, 2022 by Catastrophe Jones

When realization comes, it’s a flood, the red tide that is at once both loss and renewal, depending upon whose shores the waves break. No tags for this post.

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2 Responses to Understanding

  1. John Panian says:
    April 22, 2022 at 4:08 pm

    And sometimes both these waves break upon the same shore….

    Thanks for this.

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Some Other Girl

Posted on April 21, 2022 by Catastrophe Jones

I am 5,and a boy in my kindergarten classpulls his pants down in front of mein the shared classroom toilet.“You should lick it,” he says,demanding,shaking himself in front of me.“That’s what girls are for.” I am 10,away from home for … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry | 4 Comments

4 Responses to Some Other Girl

  1. araneus1 says:
    April 21, 2022 at 9:20 pm

    Sadly, this probably isn’t fiction, somewhere, everywhere. Makes me sad and mad. But sad and mad don’t improve things — don’t make males more aware — don’t make females more aware, more determined that their sons will be better men.
    Powerfully written and I wish it didn’t make me sad and mad.
    Terry

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  2. John Panian says:
    April 23, 2022 at 9:50 pm

    This broke me.

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Are we there yet?

Posted on April 20, 2022 by Catastrophe Jones

dark things swim below the surfacedark fish under dark watersilverscale shining now and thenan ideaa memorybut they too stir up the murkturn the water turbidmake what was clear something elsesomething lesssomething more leaving me with more questionsthan answersmore ruinthan creation … Continue reading →

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1 Response to Are we there yet?

  1. Holly Lofgreen says:
    April 22, 2022 at 9:25 am

    I really liked this line:

    “what am I if the sound of cats claws on hardwood floors
    can bring the warmth of sleeping sunshine”

    And I loved the last lines, and the entire first stanza.

    Really I liked all of it. A lot.

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Anti/mimesis

Posted on April 19, 2022 by Catastrophe Jones

I consume what I have created,Saturn devouring his son,and then cry at what I have wrought,skrik.Time and space pin me to the spot, above my headthe starry night.And sometimes all I am is a glove for someone else’s hunger,a soft … Continue reading →

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3 Responses to Anti/mimesis

  1. araneus1 says:
    April 21, 2022 at 9:22 pm

    “And sometimes all I am is a glove for someone else’s hunger,
    a soft self portrait, with grilled bacon.”

    Love that sentence.

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I believe you/them/mostly me

Posted on April 18, 2022 by Catastrophe Jones

EVERYTHINGWASONFIRETHATNIGHT and all I can remember is this: You’re one of the best brightest spots How odd to know they will come for meI have no doubtsbut alsoI have no regrets No tags for this post.

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