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Coffeehouse Texture

Grounded

By Katherine Gotthardt | August 11, 2019 | 0 Comments

How unhappy the worm, eyeing a bird, knowing it cannot fly – unless… Unless. #KatherinesCoffeehouse

The Summer of Our Content

By Katherine Gotthardt | August 10, 2019 | 0 Comments

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

Concert

By Katherine Gotthardt | August 7, 2019 | 0 Comments

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

By Katherine Gotthardt | August 4, 2019 | 0 Comments

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

Train

By Katherine Gotthardt | August 4, 2019 | 0 Comments

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

By Katherine Gotthardt | July 30, 2019 | 0 Comments

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…

Gossip Column

By Katherine Gotthardt | July 26, 2019 | 0 Comments

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…

Backyard

By Katherine Gotthardt | July 9, 2019 | 0 Comments

The world is carnivorous – poets not so much. We are grass on a suburban lawn, planted like a good idea, fertilized. Mowed. “Know your place,” says the owner. “Stay low.” Ah, but how green we are. How green. As if we will always be young. #KatherinesCoffeehouse

Tortuga

By Katherine Gotthardt | July 2, 2019 | 0 Comments

Because the matted hay blocked his wrinkled gaze, and because I am who I am, I felt the call to move him to a higher place. And thus, soft as a mother’s hum, I wrapped my fingers around the mottled shell, grazing the creases of his thick neck, raised him just a few inches, resting…

red clouds, low clouds, sunset poem

Cloud Cover

By Katherine Gotthardt | June 14, 2019 | 0 Comments

Yesterday’s sunset, clouds so close to street, settling into early bedtime, red plugged into the sky, like a shorted nightlight – I thought Armageddon had come. #KatherinesCoffeehouse

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