economy

see a surge in

free wood after a storm

farm fresh chicken eggs

still five dollars

per dozen

out of the warm cooler

on the side

of a road

that

to get at

pull in to someone's

gravel driveway

and leave the engine running

leave the cash 

in a mason jar

the metal lid

cut and rusted

so once the money goes in

it doesn't come out

no making change

leave with four dozen

leftovers

a silver sedan

parked in the eco lot

near the airport

goes unnoticed

into the third week

passed planned

unchecked

keys packed in the luggage

unclaimed at security

with the name

of the recently 

deceased 

printed in barcode

on a sticky

white label

cranberry harvest

the sun beam doesn't glisten
off one particular spot

not locked by coordinates
it rides the waves down each gap

in the growth of the cranberry bog
as the harvesters flood it

sequence gap

performance paused
for a deep breath

before the world ends
let's hold hands

and stare up at the moon
until we see double

occupying the vacancies
filling the ocean with lava

solidifying our end
as we become rocks

like punctuation marks
on our own history

robots writing poetry

looking for inspiration, I asked the internet
and found a "random poem generator"

that wasn't random at all, but a series of pages
filled with empty fields for me to fill in...

suggest a noun. 
the website suggests something like "sea" or "book"

because that's what all poems are actually about.
they're never about loose pamphlets the wind blew onto the floor

that were then trampled over by some unaware, sandal-wearing
dad with two pairs of prescription glasses hanging

from his $60 v-neck t-shirt with a tiny hole in the chest
from where the cat used him as a parkour platform

to better catch a month after he'd only had the shirt
two days.

give a hint.
so that the robots can better identify your noun

when looking it up online. because the robots
also don't know anything really, it's all stored away

and like us they have to retrieve it from somewhere
just like we do with our phones while we're sat

around a summer camp fire trying to remember
the name of the women who played the villain

in the latest power rangers movie.
Elizabeth Banks.

i got board and decided to write my own poem instead.
how could none of us remember Elizabeth Banks?

American. National. Treasure.
Elizabeth. "That is Mahogany!" Banks.

reading your heart

reading your poems
devouring them

understanding the pain
not because i have felt it

in my life, so charmed,
but i have felt it come

through your words
the shards swallowed

the callouses formed
around your sensitive parts

and i wonder if the words you wrote
really did heal you, even just a little bit

because i feel fuller, healed
and strong from your words

i want to give some back to you
to create a dramatic

woman healing woman
feedback loop.

heart

who do i cry to
about how heavy
it feels inside this spell
of silence?
who hasn't heard it before,
the moaning of uncertain
outcomes?
how not hearing from you
can make me dread
the vacation I'm taking
that up until two days before
i was excited for... because
i don't want to leave you
like this...

a new rules of lemons

micro-plane little curls of 

yellow peel, sweet with bitterness

down to the white, then slice

in half, ready to squeeze

in a vice designed specifically

for yellow fruit, the size of a lemon

the juices bursting out everywhere

in tiny droplets, pulp pushing out 

of the little holes in the vice until

the scent of lemon rules the room.

herd

we are the deer neck-deep
in your neighborhood swimming pool

our antlers up, ears twitching
listening to you argue about what to do

to get ride of us without hurting us
and wondering if we know how to use the stairs

while the biggest bucks are dancing
around the small herd of white tails

escaping the heat and the bear
that's coming up behind you.

rough days

Rough days. They happen. Today was one of them. It feels like the world is smaller. Its gravity is stronger. The consequences more severe. The pain more real. A quick cry in the car. Go lie on the floor of my friend’s new apartment and wait for more friends to arrive. I ramble cryptically. Offer one of the people around me half of my life. We negotiate down to one third. My partner takes me home. I step away, be alone. When I resurface, he’s at the bottom of the stairs awkwardly holding a very full, hot cup of tea.

tea

tea finds its way into our writing our poetry our drabbles liquid capable of conquering empires raising dynasties giving birth to war that inspired the child to invent a language and pursue love that stains an old pot by the kettle by the sink waiting to be filled and poured out into perfect cups poured out over perfect conversations like the poet leaning over the back of a lounge yearning to find the words for the magic that no one has yet to put together just the right way that stirs the heart like milk in a cup of tea

continued

poetry month continues
bleeds into a drabble a day
like one cup of tea turns into two
because i haven't finished this book
that a friend gave me
that her friend wrote
and wrote beautifully, if i might say so
so i do say. it makes my heart
pound feel realer. heavier. truer.

journey

That evening she sat staring at the incredible, abundant, extravagant beauty her friends, family, neighbors, and acquaintances had delivered to her. Still unsure of why and wondering what to do with so many flowers and plants, she wept. Tears that overwhelmed her. What love was this? What motivation did so many people have to visit and wish her well. What journey they spoke of… and slowly her heart swelled. It takes time for the spirit of a human to understand. To comprehend. The journey she was taking was one she would never be able to share with them. The living.

mysterious

All day friends stopped by her home. The first arrived at 7:26 am on her way to work. With flowers. Each of them who could come themselves dropped off a small bouquet or potted plant. Three different flower delivery vans came by that day, each dropping off multiple gifts. The day went on and on. Visitor after visitor coming by, saying hello, sharing love and well wishes, then vanishing, leaving flowers in their wake. It wasn’t her birthday, it wasn’t a holiday, she wasn’t grieving or celebrating anything that she knew of. But someone had planned this. A mysterious day.

drabblers' condition

drabblers' condition is a minor ailment derived from the self-imposed rule that one must compose and post one new drabble every day in the month of may. the condition lies dormant until the drabbler becomes either lazy, overwhelmed, or uninspired; thereby missing one day of continuous composition and posting. drabblers afflicted with this condition have two courses of action in which to alleviate the condition. one, one can simply carry on, pretending no days have gone missed. or two, compose an extra drabble the next day and pretend no days of gone missed. this condition only occurs in may.

form

when composing a drabble one might consider form. however, the limitation of composing something consisting of exactly 100 words is in itself a form. one may argue that the limitation directs or informs the form of the composition.

however, again, a drabbler may chose any form or layout that they chose.

one may present their 100 words in a standard paragraph form.

and yet another
may present a series

of couplets. and so
it is agreed upon

that the form of a drabble is fluid and defined outside of the word count parameters. one may and should use any form.

contents

contents may vary from drabble to drabble.

some drabbles may be sweet ruminations on the budding spring time while others may be bemoaning mini tirades on one's swollen sinuses and watery eyes.

some drabbles may be quirky and allusive while others are direct and poignant.

some drabbles may contain references to revolutions fought, fighting, or to be fought while others are mere meandering flights of fancy like fantastic tiny journeys on the backs of bumble bees.

still yet other drabbles may reveal themselves to be nothing more than instructions on fixing the perfect snack.

but they all stir the heart.

procedure

1. open word counting tool. (bookmark or download one if you haven't already.)
2. poor a hot cup of trader joe's mint watermelon tea. (product placement. send back up tins, this stuff is delicious!)
3. begin composition.
3a. think of a word or a place.
3b. begin to ruminate on said word or place.
(different drabblers may have different techniques when it comes to inspiration)
3c. type out your thoughts in your word counter.
4. begin to panic that you either a) have written too many words or b) have a perfect little poem at 85 words.
5. edit profusely.

definition

In order to complete the task, the task must first be defined.

In May, the task is to compose drabbles. To engage in drabbling. Defined here:

Noun.

A drabble is a piece of writing consisting of exactly 100 words.

Fiction. Nonfiction. Poetry. Prose.

Example: I will write one drabble every day in the month of May.

Verb.

To drabble is to compose a piece of writing consisting of exactly 100 words.

Fiction. Nonfiction. Poetry. Prose.

Example: I am drabbling every day in the month of May.

The task is to create one drabble every day of the Month of May.

grumble mug

grumbling into my mug of
muddy decaffeinated tea

[it's been enhanced by sugars
and fats from various sources]

grumbling to myself because
no one else is here

and no one else would care
[probably] or at least

not enough to respond
with anything helpful

so grumble away, me.
grumble all day as long

as the work gets done.

personal nimbus

you oppressive cloud
rung out over me

casting across all my paths,
if i ignore you

will you get worse
or go away?

the muscle fibers caught up

reaching out to wrap
an arm around another

lips pulled back in a smile
or turned down in a pout

rushing from one gate
to another to catch a flight

or pulling himself up
out of a chair after a nap

the stretch of muscle
is visible under skin

and we're all caught up
in the motions of the flexing

and relaxing

the green river girl

there's a girl, the green river girl.
i invented her.

at first, she was just a pleasantry
an imaginary friend

to the girl inside me named something
who i invented so she could write poems,

but then the green river girl grew up
fed off the grief and fear of losing my pa.

she siphoned my turmoil, my sadness,
and spread it out across the valleys

of the Pacific Northwest of America.
she planted seeds all around this place

where i trek once a year
knowing I'd keep coming back

and eventually see the blossoms
of what she planted for me here.

today we - me, something, and the green river girl -
took the familiar trail down to the bottom

of the falls we stare at for long periods of time
to remember and honor all our past feelings

and today i recognized the fruits and flowers
that were planted a decade ago

by the green river girl, weighed down as she is,
by rocks and sadness, and stuck here forever

in these trees and this water, green and strong.

my phone has a microphone, i dropped my phone, i dropped a mic, did i drop the mic?

i did.
didn't i?
yeah, i did.

driving rain

car parts break or fault
houses made of wood will leak

and we keep trekking forward
through the driving rain

reattached

stitched back together
with wax covered thread

by a weak needle
and shaking fingers

but with the kind of care
that makes up

for lack of knowledge
or practice

and stays reattached
even in rough weather

wide screen

i have a wide screen
computer monitor at work

and the bottom of the screen
(it's 25" (i measured it))

is covered edge to edge
with little post it notes

(the 2" square ones
(i measured those too))

some are stuck three long
one on top of another

on top of another.
they are reminders

of what must be done.
a colorful to-do list

across the bottom
of my wide screen monitor.

air

i did something to water
something that upset it

so all the liquids i interacted with
did their best to drip

splash

spill

overflow

spray

so much so that i felt
much like a soggy squirrel

flapping my tail
most of the day

water was not my element
but then i'm air anyway

at least that's what Ajia thinks
she told me when i complained

about my water problem
while water splashed up

from the basin of the sink
and soaked into the apron i'd put on

for protection

either way.

stand up. stop. if you have toes, can you feel them? stand still. wiggle them. how many do you have? if a whale and a deer are related by a type of hip bone, do you buy the purple flowers or the yellow ones to make the wet deer happy? either way, they were both picked. wiggle your toes again. how many do you have? i have ten. i have had ten for quite a while now. a while, a long time, a life time, all relative to the short line at the locally owned coffee place that only has five kinds of milk.

cherry blossom bandit

no one suspected
the big grey goose

with the bright orange beak
was capable

of such heinous
criminality

alas, he had a tendency
to rob local shops

of their cherry blossom
flavored baked goods

during the busy festival
in spring

puddle skipper

a fish out of water
would die

i'm much more like
a squirrel in a deep puddle

the meaning of tired

the word tired
describes how i feel
most of the time

tired is a little word
but this little word
has many meanings

such as i stayed out
too late last night
and regret it a little now

or i do the same things
over and over and over
and see no end in sight

sometimes it means
do i have to do this again
didn't i do this yesterday?

it can mean chocolate
where is the chocolate
i am going to need chocolate

or it can mean i ate
too much chocolate
even though that seems impossible

or wondering why the heck
recreational fishing
seems like a relaxing idea

when actually it's really
mean to trick a fish
and totally ruin its day

tired can also mean
i feel like i've seen
this show before

it must be a repeat
or i've been watching
too much reality tv

it can mean wearing
the same shoes
for six months

tired can mean
the sun is warm
through the window

so today i am staying home
with the cats and eating
more chocolate

lookbook emotions

today i am wearing
motivated

to match my new
confident

yesterday i wore
confused

with a bright and beautiful
frustrated

two weeks ago
i sported this really cute
angry

later today i will put on
my best
tired

when the weather warms up
i'll be riding around in
my favorite pair of
distracted

and when fall hits
we'll all wrap ourselves up
in the warmest
sad

until the holidays
happen upon us
and we put on our
holly
jolly
depressed

but disguise it with
chocolate and marshmallow themed
happy

pocket full of lumens

what kind of world
where he can

walk around all day

with a pocket full of lumens

more than 10 million pixels

if we count the sub ones

10 million of anything

is reason enough

for a purse

three truths

fizzle

in one hand i spin one plate

that holds cute pens and stickers

in another hand i spin another plate 

that holds social media apps - 

facebook, instagram, 

the twitter accounts i never check

from one foot i spin yet another 

that holds excel, quickbooks, zimba

balanced on my nose i spin a plate 

that wobbles because it holds the most delicate balance 

- the balance between answering the phone

 and taking a bite of lunch

blue anyway

a sky, blue and clear,
let down candy floss
snow flakes

wind gusts swirled
the soft flakes
like a magician

causing eyes to dart
and hearts to feel
a sensation like wonder

a curious urge
to move with the wind
and become part of the scene

feet flit on gravel
and the world is full
and her eyes awake

ready for more wonders
more contradictions
and anomalies of nature

under a sky so blue
in a storm that moves
so much and yet

calm prevails

tried and tried

i think she's dead now,

but it's hard

to get a straight forward answer
from her sometimes.

i had tried,

and this was years ago,

to help her.

i tried talking to her, sending care packages,
hundreds of dollars,

until she got sloppy,
and i caught her lying.

i felt like a fool.

but i tried to talk to her,
tried to get her help,
but she didn't want real help.

at least, not from me.

so i lost her.

i had to lose her.

and now completely.

completely lost.

winter wanderer

boot prints disrupt the snow
in zigs and zags

a meandering tracker
chasing day dream fancies

while avoiding branches
weighed down by fresh snow

the puck

driven across a flooded and frozen bog
the puck glides, bumps, jumps, and swerves

a kid in a green jersey rushes after it
falls and slides towards it, laughing

other kids skate around him like a swarm
they can't find the puck, does he have it?

he keeps laughing, uncontrollably,
giddy from the fun on the ice.

in the background his sister falls.
she's just learning how to skate.

in two months she'll be better than him
at his favorite sport, and he won't mind.

match made

nana used to use the dishwasher to store food
like crackers, bread and cereal until we all moved in

and we needed it to keep up with the demand for spoons
that's when she started storing snacks in a hanging shoe rack

that clanged against the door to her bedroom
whenever she opened or closed it.

color coded

we warn visitors
that our cat Rowdy
is color coded.

you can pet all the parts of him
that are covered in orange fur,
but not the white bits.

the parts of our cat
that are covered in white fur
are off limits for petting.

that's Rowdy's rule,
not ours. we have to abide
by the color code too.

four blue birds in the yard

Alli chirps
eck eck, eck eck, eck eck eck

speaking a language
she thinks the blue jays will understand

empty

an ashamed container:

to be buried in the trash

or left in the freezer? a facade. an embarrassment.

left empty either way.

pocket

hand in pocket
reminded that this morning

i put a spoon in my coat pocket
but now i can't remember why

without

the sad that envelopes a year
that he will never know

is worse with each sun that rises
and does not know him either.

knit

I found four needles
and a large spool

of colorful yarn
so i knit until my fingers hurt

from years of sitting
without knitting