Category: Busted Story

Where poetry meets experiential blogging… this is the best of the blog.

How to Love a Day Like Today

Love Light Love Letter Las Vegas Shooting

In the face of the senseless Las Vegas shooting, how do we get through a day like today? I felt frozen most of the day, the horror buttressed by the president’s hypocritical and milquetoast response. How do I get through a day in which the acid undercurrent of anger and instability that has been pouring…

On Being Called an Idiot

Stupid idiot shenpa

It’s a perfectly lovely, breezy day, and I’m walking my daughter to school and taking the dog for a stroll. Conversation surrounds whether the dog minds being on a leash and “Dogs have feelings too mom!” I’m feeling general anxiety I haven’t felt in weeks, frustration that ebbs over the general state of the world…

Let Me Be a Jellyfish

Let me be a Jellyfish

Let me be a jellyfish Brainless and glowing My beauty innate– Unquestionable, even, Since I’ve no amygdala for Shouting orders, no hippocampus Busily collecting Potential threats. Let me be a jellyfish, One of a tribe of Transluscent pancakes Mindlessly ganged around Jews cutting the Red Sea waves or Rubber-tubed tourists — Either way. You May Also Like:A…

All the Original Everything

Twins and Poetry All the Original Everything

All the original everything has Rolled out the factory. The Whatsits and Whosees along with Their two point oh children Now retired to a retail museum. Wait awhile: won’t be long ’til The oily new marketing rep Sells the idea: it’s time to reinvent you. Latin is dead. Long live the King Of Romance, the…

Love is a Fingerprint

Marcus Smoot Combat Boots Love is a fingerprint

Love is a fingerprint Shared between Exactly two people– Nothing repeats. No coda, no lookalike No twin affair possible– Replicated or paraphrased– Later in life. My heart knows the Vinegar taste of you. I distinguish your laugh Among the rubble– One I discern only between Lines and across Miles and beyond uncounted graves. I am yours– The index…

Leonard Nimoy’s Tree

Green Powered Car

Leonard Nimoy’s rumored penthouse in Vancouver Was easy to spot– a pin oak tree growing Atop the 19th floor at English Bay. Think about the inches nearest To you. What’s in your line of Vision? Mine: Target bags of plastic eggs A rubbery Fitbit, Telling me to move. Wood. The mantle carved, The Pictures framed, the copies…

You see a light & then another

Tragically Hip in Concert 2015

You started not to like me. At first you thought: It’s not him. It’s me. It’s the Chemo, the kids, the stress, my weight. Drugs ended. Hair grew back. Boobs rebuilt. Life leveled as Kids reached an easy age And yet you Couldn’t shake feeling that I’d Turned on you. One time I toured then Didn’t come home.…

An Ode to Frida, on a Monday

Frida

Across the Gulf from La Casa Azul, this Monday Late morning I am thinking of you, Frida. My sister’s just called and We Facetimed, her lying flat on her Back on her bed, phone in midair Me slurping lukewarm coffee in my Second cousin-in-law’s second home and the chatter Echoes off textured walls until we…

Is it Me You’re Looking For?

Lionel Richie hello is it me you're looking for

There once was a man said ‘Hello’. Who heard no reply from below. He said with grunt “I’ll go look out front” But instead just looked down at his toe. –poem by Colin, day 8 You May Also Like:An Ode to Frida, on a MondayThe Big Question: Can I Change the World?Let Me Be a JellyfishA Good LookEarth…

A fitting tribute to artistic madness

Troubadour Dali Museum

Dali broke with the Surrealist movement Cuz they didn’t like that he got famous. Jealous bitches be like “yo Sal, Babe, ain’t no way to make, like, Art and also Cash.” So he and Gala bought A boat and she ditched her Husband and they made out for France to Hide and read and Butter…

I wonder what JFK would have to say

I wonder what JFK would have to say If he, on the occasion of spring break, Found his flight cancelled. And thus re-booked for such an early a.m. Could not decline the logic of overnighting JFK Queens Radisson. Took the AirTrain to the hotel shuttle to The recently remodeled lobby and The second floor with…

End of Day – Day 3 – Poetry Month

Climbing Trees

End of day lends itself to Gathering ephemera. Unsorted, a day succumbs. It’s all detritus and last-minute noise Eardrums ringing, hippocampus Vibrating. The occurrence of Night surprising as a summer cold, As easily forgiven for the rest it gives. End of day, casting off aspersions Like stitches, or old dogs– What agreement did we conjure…

Everyday Compassion – Day 2 – Poetry Month

plastic bottle floating on lake litter everyday compassion

It’s true I have trouble with you, With everyday compassion, Because It means forgiving the person Who drops poop bags to the ground– Listening between sarcastic comments for Pain and fatigue. Everyday compassion the Off-gassed namesake of Life. I’ll have to be More than OK with rigid people– Got to See myself in them, to Assume…

Understanding Love, Regret and Hope

Bill Murray Broken Flowers

Today is the birthday of my former roommate and college friend. I have no delusions that she will read this post, and anyway, it isn’t about her. It’s about the experience I had with her, and what it taught me about myself. “Trisha” and I were roommates when I lived in Kansas City. I had…

Got that Coming Around Again Feelin’

Vintage radio

Patti said: “I haven’t been writing much for fear of cyber-whining.” Ohhhh Patti. I hear you. I counted. There are TWELVE posts from the last six months in my blog’s draft folder that are almost 100 percent flushed out. But each time, when I got near the end and thought about hitting “PUBLISH” I stopped myself.…