Teeth

By Katherine Gotthardt | October 11, 2018 | 0 Comments

I used to dream my teeth fell out. I’d look down, and there, in a blue bucket, they sat, piled, pitiful remnants of my parents’ paychecks, gone to hell and the orthodontist.   Now they really are falling out, hanging on by a fleshy thread, some strange metaphor for life, and I feel bad –…

Back

By Katherine Gotthardt | October 5, 2018 | 0 Comments

Remember back – not too far back. Goalies didn’t wear masks. Bikers didn’t wear helmets. We rode in the back of station wagons, sometimes even in hatchbacks, no seat belts, or in the beds of pickups, nothing but wind and a tailgate holding us in. Those were dangerous times, they tell us. They had no…

Caterpillar

By Katherine Gotthardt | September 19, 2018 | 0 Comments

I write angry poetry. But this morning, I’m not angry. No, I’m stretching like a caterpillar, crossing a jeweled leaf in late summer, satisfied having eaten another, needing nothing more now than these droplets on my many feet, and natural love letters written in veins, not thinking of drinking, but looking up. Is that a…

Katherine Gotthardt social justice poetry

Barefoot

By Katherine Gotthardt | September 10, 2018 | 0 Comments

Was there ever a time you didn’t judge? Approached a foreign-looking man, shook hands, ignored the sandy feel of his palm against yours, his callous, knotty knuckles irritating your sweet skin smoothed by shea butter and shorter work hours? What did you do? Did you smile for real? Did you try not to stare? Did…

Apocalypse No

By Katherine Gotthardt | September 8, 2018 | 0 Comments

I’m not cut out for the apocalypse. I’m not built for Armageddon. Sure I’ve got the bulk to survive a random famine, or float around the flood zone, but really, I’m just not the type to die. See, I still believe in possibility, in potential, in humanity. Stupidity on my part? Wishful thinking? I think…

Centipede

By Katherine Gotthardt | August 30, 2018 | 0 Comments

There, on my office wall, above the lamp and tiny, sterling Buddha, a house centipede, more legs than a marching troop. How they move in unison, soldiers obeying a single brain, beautiful in their complex simplicity. Except…one leg is missing. You have to look closely to see it,   the gap in the line, the…

Work in Progress

By Katherine Gotthardt | August 6, 2018 | 0 Comments

If I charged what I was worth, the world would be poor. That’s not a brag. That’s everyone. Look around. Look and say with certainty, “I see the gold of El Dorado.” It never was a myth. Look! There…there is potential. There…there is talent. There…there is honesty. There…there is the one I thought I lost…

Housemate

By Katherine Gotthardt | July 25, 2018 | 0 Comments

#GrowingUp, I housed a battered, silent, shriek: “#StopFighting!” It never moved out. #KatherinesCoffeehouse

Poetry about shopping, Amazon Prime addiction

Amazon Prime

By Katherine Gotthardt | July 20, 2018 | 0 Comments

I should go to bed, bury my ear and head in a pillow of sweet smelling sheets and sleep, maybe Egyptian cotton, or something on sale I bought off #AmazonPrime. Because, see, I spend so much time online, I start to see things like #promos and #discounts and #coupons as #BigData puppies tugging at the…

Katherine's Coffeehouse Facebook Poetry

Hashtag Lazarus

By Katherine Gotthardt | July 14, 2018 | 0 Comments

On days when #FacebookIsToxic – those are the days to #WritePoetry. Go ahead. #Hashtag the hell out of #inspiration, #art, and #TheCreative. Use whatever #MetaphorWorks. Breathe #life back into a dead thing gone wrong. #Lazarus didn’t rise because #JesusHealedHim. He sat up in a stony tomb, peeled away his gritty bandages, felt the new, smooth…

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