Michele McDannold's Blog, page 9

the choose your own adventure stories we tell ourselves

i’ll start doing things to get out of it– burning a hole in your favorite t-shirt ruining your beautiful record collection.. then i’ll remember the only sound advice my ex-husband left me with you’re not required to do anything in this life, except die. all i ever wanted to write was a happy ending Michele…

to the puzzling situation which seems to involve a contradiction

can i get that martini to go sitting in the rain outside the eats it’s too loud in the bar with the fancy people & the prime rib i go outside down the way to the benches where nobody sits with the outstanding shrubbery & art- etched sidewalk that no one notices the leaves sound…

helicopters don’t have blind spots

west coast notebook entry #4 assume whatever you want when you look at me & see white assume whatever you want when you look at me & see a woman… blue hair raggedy clothes shitty, magical jeep doesn’t she look slightly ethnic–the eyes, maybe a sweater? don’t judge my motherfucking sweater i can’t get white…

multisensory delivery mechanism

in a sense, exact just keep writing sensory input because i’m kind of at a loss. glass-encased seeping heat space, a bubble the world turns outside only twice a day a snowglobe on a timer what do we do with this time as important as any yeah? there are holes in the telephone pole out…

bow not included

Step Up Your Gift Game with Tips from Pro Wrappers what do i write anymore but epic craigslist masterpieces that get flagged for being impossible actionable items only please the holidays came and went mourning for the dead mourning for the living we eat til it hurts even if it already did missed connections misunderstandings…

after a long period of abnormally low

enough abundance, it rains on this sleepy saturday drought cracks in the sidewalk and everywhere else filling up it was there lurking clouds heavy with promise the somber and unrepentant jazz the lips moments from the kiss the sweet surrender that lone trumpet sounding the all-clear the alright with what we already had right here…

you’re probably going to worry about the wrong thing like bears or sodomites. so just don’t worry

taking my chances in bear country remember which hand you touched the door with remember the handi-wipes next time remember that the fires burning can be either a light to follow back or away the fog rolls in we’re walking in a cloud now Michele McDannold is the author of Stealing the Midnight from a…

marching orders

dream deferment that which remains pristine in its distance to stars, we awe & in mass– comet dust. Michele McDannold is the author of Stealing the Midnight from a Handful of Days, a book of poetry available from PUNK HOSTAGE PRESS. She was the Editor-in-Chief at Red Fez Publications for five years and is currently…

origin of casual

burn this one the poem where he meets her on a bench at a place we will never learn to pronounce correctly the walls drenched in gasoline– a lighter he hands to her. here you go, sugar. burn this one Michele McDannold is the author of Stealing the Midnight from a Handful of Days, a…

miss judgy pants

west coast notebook entry #3 the air up here though oh goodness–these people so *faded* to an alternate demographic hiking with Starbucks in American Apparel they brought their own soundtrack playing photo shoot from a boombox in too good a condition to make any sense an insurance commercial a life stuck on the share button…