I am so happy to present this exciting project by the one and only sister team, my daughters, Bridget and Riana Johnson! Please enjoy the first Potato Taco Film, a stop motion animated short. August 28, 2020 "We are so excited to officially premier our first of SIX short films, “Girls in Serapes, or How... Continue Reading →
for Flo Hart Arthritis I remember watching my dear friend Jimmy’s mother, Flo, scoot, literally, or squiggle, like a fish out of water, across the kitchen floor to travel from one cabinet to the next gathering what she needed to put dinner together. I offered to help, and she thanked me with her always... Continue Reading →
1-20-20 I cannot escape who I am, or forget -- Patti Griffin A best friend of mine completed 60 never-done-before things the year she turned 60. It was a pretty cool celebration. She didn't do 60 amazing bucket list things like climbing mountain peaks or deep sea diving or forging raging rivers. Instead, she ordered... Continue Reading →
I Can Only Bake Bread for him so I will warm the kitchen perfectly for proofing like old lovers who know the best place for rising. I will wear my red sundress in my humid kitchen it fits as if I was a girl hungry and wild baking bread. Remember? I will sift the flour... Continue Reading →
Trust. It’s everywhere. So many things are reliable. Trustworthy. The sun will rise. It will set. The moon cycles around our planet. Concrete hurts if you bonk your head on it. A feather pillow is a soft place to rest your sore noggin. So many things, at first, seem unreliable. But once you get to... Continue Reading →
Going Up North We packed our stuff as blue collar kids do, in old board beer cases, names scribbled in blue; We emptied fat piggy banks, I grabbed one more book, the Dodge Dart all filled up, after one last look, we took to the road, unending flow of concrete, knowing sand would soon cover... Continue Reading →
Or the Importance of TherMOMeters When I was a girl, if I went to my mom in the morning on a school day and said, “I don’t feel good,” she had a routine response. She would first feel my forehead with that hand of hers. It seemed to me then, and does still now, that... Continue Reading →
From Across the Room I listened from across the room her giggles and secrets forcing my eyes to stay open so I could hear her make growing up sound as magic as the parade of perfume bottles Chantilly and Shalimar on her dresser, I unscrewed the shiny tops before school to smell my future and she never... Continue Reading →
April is Poetry Month, poem a day, No. 24 Readying for Next The summer swing still leans like an old man with a crooked back certain that with a little adjustment he could rock and soothe a child or lover. The fence remains in ill repair planks pop with the dog’s jump the snow, or... Continue Reading →
Poetry Month, Poem A Day, Poem Nos 18, 19, 20, and 21 Scavenger’s Daughter Their marriage was like a scavenger’s daughter, each day the pressure greater, doubling her heartache. She was broken, her ears bled. He said he’d let up. It was just that he hated his boss, job, dog, car, kids, the mayor. As... Continue Reading →
pocket poet 