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Book Launch, Amazon Books,, Bury Me Under a Lilac, Katherine Gotthardt

It’s Finally Going to Happen! Bury Me Under a Lilac

By Katherine Gotthardt | June 14, 2018 | 0 Comments
water droplet, introspect, Katherine Gotthardt Poetry


By Katherine Gotthardt | June 13, 2018 | 0 Comments

I’ve never been good at either/or, always been a “both” person, really. Explains a lot – the extensive collection of conditioner in the shower, five different bars of soap, two razors (one is dull), and an extra roll of toilet paper just outside the stall. You never know when you’ll need a tissue. If you…


By Katherine Gotthardt | May 26, 2018 | 0 Comments

This early morning, patio stones under my naked feet, then up the deck stairs, then the humid air, the sudden inhalation of spring honeysuckle. I don’t hurt anymore. #KatherinesCoffeehouse

For Sale by Owner

By Katherine Gotthardt | March 31, 2018 | 0 Comments

Now I’m thinking of sellouts – two or three suits in office chairs, afraid to spin or roll, even on waxed, white floors that beg for it. There’s a man with several chins, bound by tight collar and tie, squeezing everything up, like temperature or blood pressure. How he doesn’t choke is a freaking miracle.…


By Katherine Gotthardt | January 2, 2018 | 1 Comment

In all seriousness, I love ants. Not in the house, per se, but on a sidewalk or grass blade, or how about a dandelion stem? Just an ant, carrying, what? Ten times its weight? Eighty times? Eight hundred times? Who cares. Look at the beaded thing, an ambulatory speck of necklace, shred of leaf in…

lovers kissing poetry Eskimo Kiss

Harsh Winter

By Katherine Gotthardt | December 12, 2017 | 0 Comments

Lovers are two noses, tips touching in the cold, “Eskimo kisses,” (as the Inuit roll their eyes). But follow me here. Skin meeting skin, the heat of breath exchanged, the winged smoke that flies from sighs in January air – those are the things that turn your belly inside out. Until you’ve rubbed each other…

bird snow children flying

I Was Just Thinking…

By Katherine Gotthardt | December 10, 2017 | 0 Comments

Where is poetry, if not in soft snow, slipping slowly from a crying sky, releasing its babies, like we do, when they’re ready to fly? #KatherineCoffeehouse

stepping out Katherine Gotthardt stairs

Stepping Out

By Katherine Gotthardt | December 7, 2017 | 0 Comments

Have you ever stepped out on that wide first step, the landing, the top one, looked down like you were on a ledge and said, “That’s a long, steep way. Better hold the railing”? That’s called getting old. We used to slide down the stairs, butts bumping against the edges, turning carpet into a slide,…

philosophy meaning of life dogs night Thanksgiving

Before Thanksgiving

By Katherine Gotthardt | November 19, 2017 | 0 Comments

Weird weather tonight, warm November, with a moaning wind that makes the dogs a little nutty. They stiffen their ears, tilt their heads, like something’s about to happen, all of us waiting for meaning to emerge from the darkness. #KatherinesCoffeehouse

Charlottesville Unite the Right Terrorism

August 17, 2017 After Charlottesville

By Katherine Gotthardt | November 12, 2017 | 0 Comments

Ten years ago, I called them Nazis. It just kind of came out, you know? I’d climbed beyond angry – how could they be so mean, making hate a public policy? I really didn’t know the old ghosts I’d disturbed. I was told to shut up. For my own good, they said. But I was…