Saturday, June 25, 2022



Yesterday I went to a rally

that felt like a punk show.


Yesterday a nearly 50 year

constitutional right was overturned,

and we lost our rights

to bodily autonomy.


Yesterday I joined

a quickly organized march

to show disgust, abhorrence,

and ultimately strength.

And I felt the anger in,

and the solidarity between,

my fellow protesters.


We will not go gentle

into the night.

We will rage against

the dying of the light.


Monday, May 30, 2022

About Last Night

 About Last Night


So, last night I accidentally stole a shirt, but only for about half an hour.


The doors were late to open. Then we wound our way up the tight black stairwell and into the venue. I ran to the restroom then stopped by the bar. I then went to the merch table. I get a t-shirt (and a free koozie) that I immediately threw into my oversized bag. The merch guy told me to hang tight when I tried to pay, he had to get the card reader. He came back and asked if I could come back after the band’s set, they were about to go on. I said that was no problem at all, and then walked off to watch the band. Once the set ended, I wandered back over to the merch table (I wanted to give them a change to get the card reader situated). The guy sees me and said something to the effect of thinking I wasn’t coming back. (In my head,) I said, “Of course I came back…” a little confused, I had to pay him still.


It wasn’t until I got home that it dawned on me that the merch guys didn’t know me at all, and I had walked away with a shirt I hadn’t paid for…

Band of Brothers

 I wrote this after seeing Anti-Flag in 2021, based off an a moment I witnessed during the show.

Band of Brothers


Four shows in

after 15 months

off the road,

off of the stage.

In the middle of a song

the bass player

rests his head

on his guitarist’s shoulder.


A quick few seconds

that seemed to last

an eternal moment.



I wrote this after a Koffin Kats' show earlier in 2022.


Last night I was among friends

in a crowd of strangers.


We enter into the venue

dressed in various garments of black.

We get our drinks, 

jest with the bartenders.

We stand in our own groups

around hightop tables 

or leaning against the bar.


A one-man-bad takes the stage,

some of us gather around

some of us stay put.

But we all watch, listen, revel in

this musician who is honest about life, 

and we understand him.


The headlining band takes the stage

and most of us gather up front.

The music starts and we all move in rhythm

bouncing off of each other, laughing, 

falling, and getting back up again.


We are lost in the moment

of another night of music

and the comradery that comes with it.


Thursday, May 26, 2022

Activism In A Small Midwest City

Activism In A Small Midwest City


Springfield, MO, where people wear

“Let’s Go Brandon” shirts to their doctor’s office,

where an anti-Vicky Hartzler ad tries

to paint her as too left to represent her district.

Our square, which has a sordid past itself,

was filled with Abortion Rights activists

on a sun-filled Saturday morning.

After not one person showed up at 5pm

outside our courtroom

the day after that supreme court leak.


I show up early,

find a shady spot of grass

and read a book of poetry

not far from an older woman

who had the same idea,

the square fills up around us.


Through the crowd I spot

an elderly woman sitting in her lawn chair,

a white sign with black block lettering

propped up by her chair,

I Remember


A trio of young women fill in beside me.

One holds a white sign,

My Rights As A Woman > Studying For Finals


I drive home choosing the route

that would take me by our local

Planned Parenthood,

where you cannot obtain an abortion, now adorned

with a baby blue sign and white lettering,

Still Here

Again & Again & Again & So On

 Again & Again & Again & So On


Ten years ago I wrote a poem

about elementary school children slaughtered

in their classroom.

Today I am writing the same poem.


Anytime I hear of death by bullets

I imagine a bullet ripping through a thick layer of flesh,

barreling through tough muscle,

hitting a sturdy bone.


That’s not what happened

in that, excuse me, those schools.

I can’t write the words,

my brain won’t let me imagine

those bullets anywhere near those small bodies.

All that’s in my mind,

all that has been since we learned the detail,

are families who had to supply their DNA

to match one of those small bodies

unidentifiable from the barrage of bullets

from a gun designed only to kill humans.


In the USA, the NRA reigns supreme

above the lives of citizens

no matter what age,

above decency and logical thinking,

above the dignity of a nation.


Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Quarantined World

Figured this one should go up on here. I've been writing a lot of prose lately, and some poetry that I'm not ready to share. These are strange times indeed, but I've been trying to see the good in it all. One of my very favorite bands released an album not too long before the world was turned on its head, and listening to it now seems like it almost foreshadowed what is going on. (Anti-Flag's "20/20 Vision" for those who may want to check it out.)


Quarantined World

I’m normally a news junky
but I can’t stand to watch for too long now.
Devastating trends
of more and more dead
from just one virus.
No end in sight
quite yet.
A president who cares more about his image and re-election
than doing the hard work of being a commander-in-chief.

Introverts feel lonely stuck in their homes
and miss human touch,
extroverts make friends with themselves.

I’m lucky,
I live in the country
(I’m a city girl, and normally this bores me).
I can get out in the fresh air
and run past cows on dirt roads,
be greeted by neighborhood dogs,
watch the birds,
yell at the wasps.

The world seems smaller than ever before
but, oddly, also bigger.
Humanity and our interconnectedness
weighs on my mind more than normal.
Musicians livestream music from their living rooms and basements,
chefs livestream cooking demos from their kitchens.

We are learning lessons
that our teachers and preachers
have long hoped to instill in us.

Art saves our souls and minds
while scientist work to save our bodies.
And I feel like we’re moving closer to
a John Lennon world
in which we can all
live as one.
I hope this is part of our new normal.