Katherine's Coffeehouse

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 […]

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 […]

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

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 […]

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

When day looms long, heart too small to hold it, Earth, too, pensively looking at the stars, I find it works to encourage a reluctant smile. See how the universe grins back? “Oh, my darling Did you believe for one moment I’d divorce you? You are my beloved. Come now. Step closer. Let us renew […]

This train wreck? Look closely. A hand reaches from the rubble. Take the trouble to reach back. Be the conductor. #KatherinesCoffeehouse #PoemsAroundTown See this poem live at Manassas City Hall.

And then, there are days when the world tears itself apart. Or maybe it’s just my heart. #KatherinesCoffeehouse

See how time moves, slinking along like some aging cat, shoulders hunched against the moon, a silhouette of fur and philosophy? My dog barks at it, wants to rip its throat out. “Settle down now, dingo. We’ve all got our job to do. That’s a girl. Go lie down. It’s almost time for bed.”  

Living as a poet is hard. See, the teacher is always changing, not just when September comes, but every moment the temperature drops, or the rain does the same. That moment you started to sweat? Or turn on the bathroom tap? Or revel in a short shower? Or cry? Those things, they make the coloring […]