Mimi-Mona Poetry: Falling onto the Highway of Life

©Falling onto the Highway of Life

Mimi Wolske

All Rights Reserved

I woke up this morning

to the sound of someone’s car tires

on the overheated road;

it made me think of Indian fry bread

and how it sounds

being dropped in the hot oil.

In the desert, there’s a cowgirl

who wakes up each morning

with a funny taste in her head;

yes, something tastes different—

maybe it’s her tongue—

suddenly, she’s not so young.

There is a dancing maiden

who loves a masochist,

but the fire in her dance

comes from a bird singing

in the folds of low clouds;

she sticks the bird in her lover’s ear.

The shape of your eyes

is like a lasso around my heart;

your dance echoes of

a covey at dawn and romantic

road trips; our hair intertwined;

no space for breath between us.

There’s an aged couple

watching dried butterflies rise

over a landscape of stranded ships;

neither sleeps unless together

because the boy and girl they were

are no longer waiting.

I love the way you call me Baby;

and you love the way

I say “good morning”;

we’ve said it before,

“open the door, get on your

bike, and take me the way I am”.

Mimi-Mona Poetry: In Your Bell Jar

©In Your Bell Jar

Mimi Wolske

Mimi Wolske-Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

You spoke words that melted in my hands

There in the basement where so many surprises awaited me

So many people in the basement and then you called Intermission

My thoughts grew colors that mingled with the roots of my hair

Looking for those words of acumen

Finding the kind of love that's going to kill me

Seeing in your eyes this wasn't a lesson or some children's game

Growing flowers from a hole dug under the table of love

Naked and famous was I in your Bell jar

You were singing the song of Bernadette

Repeating flavors while lying with your icy statuette

When your balloon collapsed you called out Author Author

Never understanding why I suffered from writer's block

If luck were kind you might have found a roof

Quiet is that crack in the wall where communication fled

The octopus lovingly holds onto her wolf and pearls

You were the fluid sacristan of my embellished heart

Naked and famous was I in your Bell jar

(Abduction, 2005, Ashley Snow Macomber -- octopus and wolf)

POETRY

Unraveling the Threads

©Mimi Wolske, January 2014

All Rights Reserved

(art by Christian Rex van Minnen)

Unraveling the threads

of pain exploding

in my brain,

I moved in

Front

Of the sentence.

It had to be stress;

I mean, I was so effing

Bored out of my mind...

Nothing was real,

Nothing wass fake;

If it was

Fake,

Then maybe I'd have

Been a little interested.

I walked by a

Motel room; the

curtains were open.

I looked in the window.

Seven people were

In bed and

Five were

Participating in

The couple's sexual

Activity and in the

Acclivity of her breasts

As seen from beneath

By the man and

The five people.

I wondered if they

Were the baggage

We all bring with

Us into relationships.

Maps scatter lives in

Indigo veils but cannot

the emotional intellect.

Murmurs, light, red paint

everywhere;

organized, I list all my

Pencils that have erasers,

Let friends hide

Behind clouds,

Fractionalize

every move of my lover,

Obfuscate my fantasies,

And

Unravel more threads.