A Night at Fisch Haus

I’m excited to get to be part of the Fisch Haus Tuesday Night Jazz Series–

A group of ten or so poets will read their work, and then will be accompanied the second time through by musicians improvising based on our reading.  I can’t imagine how that’s going to work out, but part of me is tempted to read my poem like Flo–

Don’t worry.

I won’t do it.


Why don’t you come see?

Fisch Haus @ Tuesday, April 11 : 7:30pm


Water’s Edge: Excerpt from Chap 1

A Little Context

For Serena, moving to a new town and a new school is only half the problem.  Left behind by her father to live with near-strangers, Serena must learn to live quietly and suppress her powerful gift.  If she can’t figure out how to do that, members of The Order might notice that things around Serena aren’t as “Normal” as they should be.  Making new friends and attracting the attention of an artistic young man with his own disturbing gifts only complicates matters.

Excerpt from Chapter 1

Once in the hallway, I leaned against the row of lockers, taking deep breaths, trying to blink away the tears.  I hated my life right now.

I saw the girls’ restroom and escaped inside.

I checked each stall to make sure I was alone.  I turned back to the door and locked it.  Just a few minutes of privacy.

And the lovely things about bathrooms?  Always plenty of water.  I have a thing about water, did I mention that?  It’s kind of important.

Inhaling deeply, I tried to channel the power weighing like a brick in my chest, tried to shift the filter, imaging the breath flowing all the way to the bottoms of my feet, I felt the water pulling toward my call, answering, and grief swirled through my heart unexpectedly.

There were ten porcelain sinks in this restroom.  With a little flick of the power seated in my chest, I let the water pour.

Each of the ten faucets twisted on and water gushed, thundering.  I exhaled, pushed the air out, willing the negative feelings and hurt to flow down the drain with all the water.

Steam began to rise, the heat fogging the mirrors.

I breathed in and the air was heavier, damp, and soothed my heart some.

It took me a few minutes, but as I began to feel calmer, the water’s fury eased.  I breathed out and let the water’s power go until each faucet was only tinkling.

I swiped at a mirror, looking at my reflection.  Green eyes stared back, my dead mother’s mouth, my missing father’s straight nose.

But at least I didn’t look like I had cried.  Never let ‘em see you cry, I thought.

I walked down to each sink, turning the knobs manually with my hand, cutting off the flow of water.

I gathered up my bag from the floor where it had dropped.

The Air, Slick Like Butter

I spent my Saturday, in part, at the Community Poetry Festival.  Phase II was held in Riverside Park, and I loved that fountains helped to keep people cool.  Unfortunately, there have been more than twenty days this summer above 100 degrees.  Ever try to describe heat without using the words “hot” or “heat?”  The following is my effort, and I challenge other writers to describe our sultry summer.

“The Air, Slick Like Butter”

The cicadas call from elm to oak,
furious rattles of warning, my body
aches to lie down in the light, bend

low before I break under the sun’s
white-gold gaze, melt into the brown
sod dormant from drought. My skin

smells humid, flesh sliding loose on
bones.  The haze bends cars into a
shimmer of water, and I dream of ice

cubes and mint.  The air so slick like
butter across my skin, the grass baking,
the trickles of sweat sliding down the

back of my head.  Veronica’s velvet
voice blending into the fire of the day
and I am angry only because I hurt.

The Community Poetry festival is an excellent time for writers, musicians, and spoken word artists to get together and share in our love.  There are two more dates this summer, including August 27th at Price Woodard Park and September 10that Linwood Park.  Look to either Poetic Justice’s website for further details,


or find them on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Poetic-Justice/148311313499