Orange cup of coffee after a hike; maple seed- pod swirls through sunlight.
Category: Poetry
Bright Kitchens of June
From an exercise I did with my young writing students: Tomorrow by Nancy Schatz Alton Tomorrow is a continuation of sleepy yoga Wednesday. I’m waiting for the bright kitchens of June. Until then, let’s ignore the gravity of the future. The stunned red mittens faint, fall onto the bookshelf. My heart’s annoying lint makes lists; […]
My Beauty Uniform
My Beauty Uniform is a stretched-out sweater, pilling everywhere, light brown to highlight my fine-tresses. My Beauty Uniform is capturing your joy, the way your smile starts slow, slow enough that only I know you might flash a grin that makes people who think they know you take a closer look. My Beauty Uniform is […]
The days shorten, the deadlines thicken.
The days shorten, the deadlines thicken. Make haste while it doesn’t rain. Relish the crush of the leaves underneath feet. The days shorten, the deadlines thicken. A crash: the shower curtain gives up its elasticity forever. The leaves ground into carpet, the vacuum cleaner waiting. The days shorten, the deadlines thicken. I wake early, write […]
A New Fixed Place
A New Fixed Place by Nancy Schatz Alton I still see you in your broad striped onesie, blue & minty green watch you roll across the wood floor: you propel yourself where you want to go. I read that I was your fixed place. Slowly, I am no-longer-your-fixed place. You are becoming your own […]
A Falling Cat
It is hard to think of a poem on a Sunday. Working the words when I’ve woven my day out of trying to unwind…. Oy vey, this promise to my blog makes me weary. How can I write of the bus app? Racing across a street to catch a ride. The words spun between friends. […]
Uncombed
Eleven hours of sleep make me a cloud with nothing to say. A cloud with dishwater blond hair, stinky breath and coiled muscles. One with a brain thinking about language and how I overuse words. That is what’s next: creating a new dictionary for myself to feed my brain. Blogging every day is magical because […]
Making Sense of Nothing Making Sense
Making Sense of Nothing Making Sense by Nancy Schatz Alton Reds still dot my daily view. Yellows turn to ochre. Brown dried leaves litter our floors. Ground down to particles—fall lives inside our home. The molds live in us. We wake to heat clicking on, dried sinuses— a tightness across our faces. Nothing to […]
Tacos: Ordinary or Extraordinary?
Tacos on Tuesdays make me content. Crunchy delight: salsa, cheese, beans, veggies & shells, the ordinary tastes extraordinary to me. Oh, November 2nd. I already wanted to break my promise to you, the one about blogging every day. I guess that is why people make promises. It’s easy to blog on day 1, announce to […]
November
November* by Nancy Schatz Alton What will I miss when I’m gone? The smell of my Grandma Becker’s house, her front steps. The run over to Grandma Schatz’s porch, her kitchen with the square of wood I stood on and moved by moving my hips, the ceiling decorated with homemade noodles, her over-sweetening my cereal […]