Category: Miz Q
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It’s Boris at the Door
It’s Boris at the Door The front porch light is on, glaring yellow in the fog, and there’s a boy at my door. He flips the cover up on the mail slot, tilts his head for a better view inside and straight down the hallway. Hello? Hello, in there, he says, I’m here for candy.…
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Junk Mail
Junk Mail Dear Sir and/or Madam Thank you for your letter. Your new artificial leg is being made by our handicraftsmans today. We attach invoice for your payments – bank details required. If questions, hit reply. Very kindly, J M Mooh, Dhaka Artificials, Dhaka, Bangladesh. tele: +00880 2384 83645 Blocked & deleted because: 1) I…
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All That Effort for Nothing
All That Effort for Nothing I encountered a word this morning. Fauxcrastinating I have no idea what it means. It’s like one of those scratch-my-head double negatives, always leaves me thinking, Huh? And the same goes for adding up negative numbers. Even worse, subtracting them. Negatives, shouldn’t be allowed, and double negatives, they’re a virus.…
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Miz Quickly’s 30 July
A Poem in the Style of Kendra DeColo I’m reading a cookbook because it’s midnight, and I don’t feel at all sleepy because that coffee after dinner was a foolish idea because I know caffeine is the devil poking at my brain because a brain doing pogo sticks isn’t sedated counting sheep, so I’m reading…
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Miz Quickly’s 29 July
Rubber Bands I keep them in a plastic box, rubber bands hold its lid on tight, rubber bands keep coffee beans airtight, rubber bands hold my cookbook together, rubber bands to snap my wrist, rubber bands so I don’t forget, rubber bands tied on tomato trusses, rubber bands in all bright colours, rubber bands that…
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27 July Miz Quickly’s Secrets
A Poem Starting with a Line by Jimmy Baca Yesterday, the sunshine made the air glow hot as an itch. I sat, in the shade of the laurel, and removed my shoes, tugged off my socks, and exposed my corncob feet to the bite of nature’s nibble. And my toes sighed, Mercy, mercy me. …
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for Miz Quickly: 26 July
Autopsy on an Ice Cube It’s like Welsh-noir with twists and turns Or fireworks and magic within an ice cube. But now I hear that the Arctic is on fire. Time to put the kettle on. Read tea leaves. 26 July: This for Miz Quickly’s “Yes/But” poem form, which I’ve probably mucked…
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Once Upon 200 Moons
Once Upon 200 Moons it’s all to play for, Boris, kipper-brandishing, from a farm in Somerset. He will love bomb us with hanging baskets, and milkshake tax plans, turn on the spending taps on the hottest day ever recorded, and find Amelia Earhart. Truth is an art. This is a Found poem constructed…
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For Miz Quickly’s Day 19
A Cat Is Sat Under My Car The neighbour’s cat is under my car. It usually comes out if you call its name. Ooooh, Marmalade. It stretches. Long and fat – its belly nearly on the ground. It stops. It stares. Stranger danger, everywhere. Friends or foe, it’s not to know. Marmalade, I call again.…
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Miz Quickly’s Day 18
Root and Stock There was the wash of the cold sea, two fish meet on winter’s snowrib. He is her key. She is his luck. Under sun, under hoe, in a garden treasured so. 3 cups of wine, 3 grandchildren, our cups filled with joy. And a melody brushes the autumn grain, wind-flowers dance, night…
It's Still Life 