Cut
How blunt the scissors used too often. Want to stay sharp? Use only when needed. Refrain from grinding edges, trying to snip tense cord or wire. These are scissors, for god’s sake. Who do you think you are? #KatherinesCoffeehouse
Date
When wheat and tomato meet for an early dinner, cheese invites itself, parsley and basil tagging along. Go ahead. Hold hands. Kiss. This is a date you don’t want to miss.
Sheaf
Are you starving yet? Has your stomach turned blue and black, inside out with hunger? Have you bruised your back working for enough just to feed your children? Have you tilled until night fell, sweating and swearing, and in between the hell of hay and grieving home, consoled yourself with an ancient hum? Is your
Grounded
How unhappy the worm, eyeing a bird, knowing it cannot fly – unless… Unless. #KatherinesCoffeehouse
The Summer of Our Content
Now was the summer of our content, made possible by the sun, and here we lay, and here we slept, bothered by no one, besides Sir Winter happening into our dreams. Where goes warmth when that knight comes? Where go lazy thoughts? Quickly, now. Get quilts out of hiding. The just-in-case days are arriving. #KatherinesCoffeehouse
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Concert
In the 80’s, there, in row 103, me, lighter raised, like everyone else in praise of music. But mine – I make it dance for me. #KatherinesCoffeehouse
I read the news today, oh boy
I cannot handle my country handling guns, aiming into the eyes of children, my neighbors, yours, ours. Where is god? Wearing camouflage, in the bushes? Is even he armed? #KatherinesCoffeehouse
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Train
By Katherine Gotthardt Maybe you’re supposed to detach from life’s thick ooze in order to recover. Is that what I’m doing? I don’t feel saved. Don’t pray for me. Don’t bother. Put your prayers on a train, hope for enough fuel. Because that’s the last thing we need. Another wreck. #KatherinesCoffeehouse #PoemsAroundTown See this
Now Accepting Locations for Poetry Installation
Hi readers! In conjunction with Write by the Rails, I am doing an area-wide poetry installation. The goal is to encourage people to stop and read a piece of literary art they might not otherwise even glance at, something short that will get them thinking in a different way. It works very simply: I create
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Gossip Column
AC went out, like my neighbor who everyone says “gets around.” The guys say she’s hot. The women, well, they say she’s a slut. Me, I don’t care. She steps lightly through our lanky grass, picks up soggy tabloids chucked on our lawn last week, recycles them, never bothers to read who made the front