Lorraine The Wrighter

Strange Thoughts

  • This is not a political poem

    How right I am won’t prove me wrong How left behind you see my mind Won’t silence any song I have a throat For singing, for singing is my kind Of speaking with my friends and brothers Oh my lovers Love is mind

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  • 22. wet tears on my face

    I am asked to describe it. Not by someone, by a book I picked up to tell me what to do. Something needs to do that. Always. That’s what it feels like. Someone has to tell me what to do with my face. Always. It will lead to that. It will.

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  • Will it last?

    My eyes are watering and I can not see, there’s been this very persistent pounding in my heart, my hands. My head. I took some pills to fall asleep. Why isn’t anyone attracted to me? I’m drowsy and falling asleep in my bed, isn’t there someone who wants to hold my heart? I know that…

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  • Tippety-Tap, The Dancing Rabbit

    Tippety-Tap The Dancing Rabbit dances just for you He takes a pretty penny and your pocket smiles at you The dancing that you’ll see tonight will be a sheer delight You’ve never seen a dancing rabbit nearly take to flight! Your eyes fill up with flashing feet and a white fur coat that gleams You…

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  • Art Lines in a Mirror Face

    When you get your heart broke And your sleepy eyes start fluttering it’s Time to write take a beat of your pulse In your throbbing hands Wring out those last stuck letters Remember that poetry It’s still good, even if it was for them And when you get your heart broke the next time It…

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  • Quandary 7:22

    I really have nothing to say, I’m just sleepy and feeling unuseful. This won’t be my best work. I’m just typing. I got a rejection letter today, I started that another day. I can’t really tell what rhymes and it seems I’m high all the time. I’m just typing. I listen to a lot of…

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  • Ovensong

    Wait a minute longer, I’ll be a simple songbird, I’ll sing a song of sixpence, you can bake me in your pie. Wait a minute not too long, I’ll still be singing my sweet song when you peek inside the oven and I’ve yet to die. Wait a minute longer, my song is growing stronger,…

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  • The Structure Would Rather…

    There’s no better reminder of how little values matter than at the moment when the loudspeaker is asked to play fingertips kissing black and white. Steel, it blares instead, because it’s only got one input. Crash, it thunders, though you asked for ivory little thuds. It’s got a setting for kicking, boom boom boom, but…

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  • Pubthoughts

    I’m an old speckled hen, two Irish mules, and a whole pint deep in oktober’s brassy music and I’m feeling not weepy like pathos, like writing in two notebooks and guessing at love languages. In other words, I’m drunk. Pretending to be a writer, that’s what I am. Reading about physics like I have any…

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  • Down below

    Me? I’m crazy Spinning around in here, Webs as long as my ears I’m just crashing into bookcases And pissing on lawns, I’ve got a fairly clear complexion Just nothing behind the skin I’ve taken a dive off the short pier And tasting anxiety in every drop Blood I swallow before I hit the water.…

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