By Katherine Gotthardt | February 17, 2019 | 0 Comments

The future, she said, relies on our stomachs, growling for something other than edible, something younger, something deferring the Earth, the indispensable effort of the blind. It’s okay. Don’t trip. It’s not necessary. Mind the walk of the native, she said. Feel for her next footstep. Place your heel in the ancient clay turned bone…


By Katherine Gotthardt | February 3, 2019 | 0 Comments

I got on a list, blown kisses by mega-marketers with a fetish for…construction? Aluminum piping, seamless gutters, steam rollers, ice remover, plastic molding makers, sealants, caulking, grout, some metal I can’t pronounce – it’s the randomosity that gets me. What kind of data claims a writer needs high-heat edge shavers, or sanders, or drivers, or…


By Katherine Gotthardt | February 3, 2019 | 0 Comments

I submitted because I saw ‘defenestration’ in a WWII detective novel, and had to look it up. The same day I discovered a journal of the same name, so I sent the poems in, thinly clad, barely edited, but mine. That’s no joke, but the timing – o timing is a funny belt we loosen…

Katherine's Coffeehouse, poetry, Katherine Gotthardt


By Katherine Gotthardt | January 26, 2019 | 0 Comments

Now more than then, #Facebook needs #poetry, and art of the masters and royal ladies who dare to dabble on timelines, old cobblers tearing off the heels of era, sublime restoration of a different kind, the way fragile leather of the unheard moves. Does it not know no one’s really listening? Does it not know…

Shutting Down

By Katherine Gotthardt | January 20, 2019 | 0 Comments

This cannot be my America. Where bloated power stuffs rags in the mouths of servants, weakened because some bastards removed their food and means, leaving them to live on charity. Sympathy. This cannot be my America. Where smirking young men mock Veteran elders on t.v. and the image of a crying native elicits no longer…

Comma, And

By Katherine Gotthardt | January 17, 2019 | 0 Comments

If I were a comma, would I opt for Oxford use? Would I find AP an ignorant Yahoo, mucking around in muddied sentences? Or would I merely slide from the tip of a pencil, smooth as poetry, and drop myself quietly before the “and”? Do you understand, now, what keeps me up at night? Not…


By Katherine Gotthardt | January 12, 2019 | 0 Comments

When I look up, I see the wall in front of me, mirrored butterflies my daughter bought me, pressed against sheetrock and paint, covering punctures, the latest fluttering of fun decor and strange introspection. Do you know how it feels to see yourself in butterflies? #KatherinesCoffeehouse


By Katherine Gotthardt | December 30, 2018 | 0 Comments

What if this year you held your face in your own, warm hands, and said aloud, “You are shamelessly loved”? Would it make you repaint your bedroom, or file your jagged fingernails, or bang arrogant nails back into the deck, while you laugh like a five-year-old? Why are you crying? It’s just a resolution. #KatherinesCoffeehouse

Hummingbird poem


By Katherine Gotthardt | December 14, 2018 | 0 Comments

Someone on Facebook said, “Bless and release.” I penned it on paper, a post-it note, purple, stamped with a teal -infused hummingbird, wings raised like praying hands, bearing my resentment like a god. Thank you. I can breathe now. #KatherinesCoffeehouse


By Katherine Gotthardt | December 2, 2018 | 0 Comments

Shifting paper, old handouts, a stack of dog-eared folders, blank, brittle notebooks, pile of unread mail and must-smelling memories, just dressing my desk the way mom did her counters. Must be hereditary. We sure are good at piling. #KatherinesCoffeehouse

Recent Comments