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"Dreams are today's answers to tomorrow's questions"
- Edgar Cayce

mustard bones and other ways to pay the ferryman

4/25/2022

2 Comments

 
i carry your bones in my pocket
the smooth round ends
sharpened
into knife points

i want to spray paint them gold
but i only have mustard yellow

the ferryman only has 
one good eye anyway
i think about wearing
something slutty
then i wear nothing

mustard bones
aren't gold coins

he holds the boat still
i pretend i am clumsy
and trip
his one good eye does
not move from my left tit
i wonder what's 
wrong with the my right one

i hand him my bag of bones
he throws them to the side
points his bony finger
past the fog

i nod
his breath smells
like old attic
but i stay close to him
wishing i had worn clothes
wishing i had gold
instead of the condiment
colored bones of my enemy

at the shore of the dead
i lay in the cool black sand
bury one bone i saved
the ghosts gossip 
around me and suck
the warmth from my skin

while waiting for my death flower
to grow
i watch  ferryman's eye twitch
as he removes my payment
from the bag
he bites the bone
as if it is a coin

i pluck the flower
run to the boat
shove my left tit 
in his face
and ask him
if he sees a spider bite
the bone falls from
his mouth

then i kiss that empty
attic tasting space
where a mouth 
should be
i throw the bag of mustard
bones to the zombie piranhas
beneath the boat

now that the ferryman gives me free rides
i have a whole garden of death flowers
that i tend to
while singing him led zeppelin songs
i tell him he is famous
because he is so rich and scary
he laughs and it sounds like a roomful 
of people choking

i eat a flower
while he rows me back
to the living
he keeps his good eye
on my left tit
so i am not sure
where we are going

2 Comments

from the dream vault: the groundhog invasion

4/12/2022

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somewhere in the woods
we sleep on kindergarten nap mats
on a hard cabin floor

the mats are lined up in rows
i don't know if i am camping
or if this is yoga class
but the mosquito incense isn't
working

i itch all over
then ask the maybe yoga teacher
who barks orders at the front
if there is something better

she scoffs as i turn the packet
over in my hands
i don't know about that, she says
call the number on the back

i realize she isn't anyone
just mean

the room is full of bodies
then it is empty
i wake up too late 
every afternoon
aching from the hard floor

everyone falls asleep at
sundown here
and is gone by first light

i came here with my grandparents
my husband
but i have only seen them once
in some sort of group huddle
in the middle of the room
whispering with the others
that are never here
when i am

i hear voices behind the cabin
get out, they tell me
they are coming,
i ask if i should be worried
as groundhogs scurry past me

the man tells me their bite
only stings a little
the groundhogs are taking things
the mats
one of my slippers
a thin blue blanket

i hop around them with my bare feet
like they are hot coals
before joining the other campers
on the grass

i came here in a limousine
they said it was a vacation

the groundhogs drag 
everything i didn't want
into the forest
i want it now though
i want everything that is gone

i wonder if that's where my family is
i follow the groundhogs
feel the scratch of their 
curved claws as they climb
over my feet

one looks back at me
as if to tell me 
hurry up
something is coming 

there is nothing but shadows
here
shadow trees
shadow groundhogs

shadow people
like paper cutouts
rise from the dirt

see us 
hear us 
they whisper

there is no coming back from this
there is no coming back from this






0 Comments

pick your poison

3/26/2022

1 Comment

 


while the world is ending
i decide to quit drinking

the medication to fix my broken brain
so i wouldn't want to drink
got a 10/10 on drugs.com

after it built up in my system
it gave me such  a violent reaction
worse than any hangover
i could only drink gatorade
for three days 

one more day on those
pills i would have ended up
in the hospital

another drug 
added to the long list 
of things my body rejects

my intolerance to life
manifests itself
in a myriad of food
and drug allergies

i had an allergic reaction
to shrooms in college
after that i could only
do acid

the last time i didn't 
fake smile
i was drunk
the last time i laughed
i was drunk

now the only
intermission from sadness
is anxiety 

my wine
has been replaced
with never ending
existential terror

i would go for a walk
but i am allergic to trees
and afraid of nuclear fallout
and covid
and people
who aren't afraid
​of these things











1 Comment

beautiful rotten things

3/7/2022

0 Comments

 
it is lonely down here
this space
which isn't space at all

i am suffocating
in this world
this requirement
of smiley lies

pleasantries
dead leaves
i spend hours raking
and bagging beautiful
rotten things

so i can belong

i built up these walls
and i don't want them
to come down

that girl i once was
i want to keep for myself
and myself alone

we are at war against ourselves
we are at war against each other

nothing changes

i watched a news clip
of a three year old boy
hiding in the rubble
in Ukraine

he said he knew what 
was happening
and he wasn't ready to die 

this world is a rotten place
build a wall around yourself
and hope that child
dreams of  bricks 
surrounding him

we are headed for a breakdown
of everything we have ever known

accept that normalcy 
is gone
grieve already
stop pretending
this is  ok
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in this place where eyes never close

3/5/2022

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 time is wavering
in this place where
 eyes never close

live with the crows
wake when they blink

the man with no face
 is my guide

on occasion
he takes his shadow hat
off

 kneel in the dark 
listening to the nothing
is everything

at the graveyard of my soul
sparrows braid my hair
i learn what no one
else wants to know

we tally the losses
the man with no face
laughs when i cry

he peels his head apart
the souls inside
are just hands grabbing at me

he tells me 
you can't save them
your light is mine 
my dark is yours

everything you want
you will have

i am your nothing
i am your  everything

look in the mirror
my dear
what do you see?







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my head is a dilapidated library

2/22/2022

0 Comments

 

drive this hearse/into the storm/when the road signs go dark/kneel at the altar/ everything/ that should be forgotten/ won't

burn this candle/when you bury yourself

/after your stepdad kicks you down the stairs/you break on the floor/his screams/will be the soundtrack/to the rest of your life

when watercolor bruises/ bleed beneath your skin/you will tell yourself/this is art/ getting beat doesn't matter/when your existence/ is just white noise

bleeding knees/ mean you are alive/when he is kicking you in the back/ leave your body watch yourself from up above

i am here/ i am not/ she is an anthill/ that he steps on

it is a relief/when the shadows come/ they drink your tears/ they hide you/where he can't find you/where you can't find yourself/this never ending free fall

memories crossed out in black pen/my  head is  a dilapidated library

i should help her/ instead/i watch her suffer/ call it art/she is me/we listen/ to the static/to remember everything/ we were supposed to forget/

my girlhood ghost/ won't stop haunting me










​



























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this ivy prison

2/17/2022

0 Comments

 

at the grave of my soul
i beg the dirt
to save my child

a record 
skips to the past
my mother
in a prison waiting room

emptiness is already
blooming in my bones
i smile at the guard
and he looks away

 this is the day
my mother lost
 all her tears

 the ivy prison
where my inked fingerprints
bled like blood

my daughter's
father
will  lie like
the man behind 
the table

 in her sleep
angels whisper
the truth
she doesn't listen

her daddy's lies
 are a  potent elixir

in the end
the demons  save her
my child fingerprints
in prison ink
mix with the tears
of my teenage mother

destiny is conjured
a rag doll
consecrated
in a prison water fountain
​
my daughter was
just 
making  a pact
to be born then

water fountain tears
a table of splintered lies

cruel men run rough hands
over surfaces
and don't feel anything

my dead dad 
knocks 
at the door 
behind me

 he wants to make amends
i tell him to do 
my bidding
​
save your granddaughter
 from
a liar like you
a bully 
a brute

i peel his prison tattoos 
while i tell him this
burn them as an offering

he has no choice now
no where to go

i send him
images of my teenage
mother while he beat her
he thinks i was too young 
to remember

her bent beneath him
while he held a beer bottle over 
her head

my mind is all fire
 as 
i recall how i came to be
his rape
made me this
shaman witch
a child
the demons born
within me
turn on him

i watch them
feed off him
 in that prison waiting room
 fluorescent lights
and mint green walls
 stale gum and smoke

i watch from the corner
 with my rag doll
i am only 3 
a strawberry embroidered
on my shirt
is my hope
and also the 
  gaping hole that
never leaves me
and consumes this room

i touch the water fountain
 my toddler fingers
drip black blood ink
i don't drink
from the prison spout
i will be  thirsty
for the rest of my life

my mother's 
tears are beautiful
to everyone here
they are all sadist
the doll 
and i know this
and come to an agreement
that life is shit

dead daddy
i am 
sending you another
shitty father
a liar just like you
to keep you company 
in your cell

i give you this present
a tattoo gun
so my poetry bleeds
on every inch of his skin

hold him down
like you held my mother
hold him down
like that girl 
who was my age 
and sat on a bench
one day to tell me
you raped her
we had the same name
i believed her

you made it so my daughter
doesn't believe me

daddy
he won't feel a thing
he is just as cold as you
the only difference
is he went to college
​and grad school







0 Comments

the nightmare above me

2/14/2022

0 Comments

 
i walk this never ending
spiral staircase

at night 
words spill out 
 i go to the places
where i got lost

my stepfather in his recliner
dissolving pain pills on his tongue
he holds my wrist
tells me his dreams

they are just nightmares
he doesn't want me to forget

my first boyfriend
wears cologne
​it comes from a bottle
that looks like a red shotgun shell

my body is still an illusion then
it needs to be 
to survive

i am wallpaper
i am the window
i am the rug
i am the night sky looking in
trapped in this room

you are the nightmare
​above me
some man 
some boy
 who doesn't care

​ i  never stop
picking at the wounds
that you leave
0 Comments

the mother ghosts

2/11/2022

0 Comments

 

i am a dartboard
throw words at me
 hit the bullseye
too many times

i laugh at my reaction

you came from my blood
and now this

in an old apartment building
we are a movie haunted
descend the staircase

run from everything
i forgot to tell you
until now

time is useless
the instant
you lock every door
i have given you the key
to open
it is my fault

the mother ghosts
line up behind me 
we walk down steps

hearts skewered
to hold like candles

one day
you will  hold your heart
like this
in the dark
walk these
never-ending steps

you will be
a mother ghost too







0 Comments

juggling stars

2/6/2022

1 Comment

 
in the blue hour
past sunset
past the pink light of promise

night is its own consciousness 
what is real 
only becomes real now

we are wild animals
roaming the forest
 daylight is just a man
with a gun trying
to prove his worth

nightmares sit in metal folding chairs
waiting to watch the world end

i lose myself in another world
a spiral unraveled
stealing stars

light years from now
i will remember this black hole
how its beginning
was just another end

and i was just a fool
juggling stars
listening to the echo
of nothing

thinking 
it was everything

1 Comment
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    Author

    Michelle Tinklepaugh


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