(inspired by Francisco de Goya’s ‘Flight of the Witches’) The witches cackle under their pointed hats, spring skyward hauling their burden. The man, stripped to his quivering skin, writhes and screams in their claw-fingered hands. Under a white cloth thrown over his head the victim’s friend scuttles across the rocks, prays nothing can see him. [...]
Tag: Patricia Wellingham-Jones
Down-sizing by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
The box in the closet fills every few weeks and I lug the contents to Salvation Army— clothes too big, trinkets people gave me, glasses and cups I never use, a travel bag, flowered lamp, a small wooden table. My down-sizing rituals grow by the year. I can picture weeding myself out of house and [...]
San Juan Islands by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
Low pillows of green, the San Juan Islands stud the northwest seas: little drama to the land, power and people on only a few, ferry links you can count on one set of fingers. Orcas loop the islands in black and white ballet, circle in their daily quest for food. In my boat outside their [...]
Bye-Bye, Pretty Boy by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
You’re so handsome in all the right ways— black hair with an endearing wave, shoulders broad enough to strain your shirt, height well over my five-foot-ten and that face so pretty older women swoon. I almost fell until I noticed your pointed lizard-tongue flick in and out, the feral gleam deep in your dark eyes, [...]
Wayne by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
Wayne was short and dumpy, slow to speak, stood in corners. His dark hair always needed a cut, his shirts were faded and worn. He lived in a gloomy house on the far side of town. Wayne and his sister delivered our paper, picked up odd jobs wherever they could. Every nickel counted. It took [...]
The Winds of Africa by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
She carried a pinch of his ashes from the Santa Cruz Mountains to Kilimanjaro. Through several security checks the ashes rode in a sealed plastic bag stowed in her purse, tucked under her pillow, carried up the mountain in her bra. Released at the top to the harsh winds of Africa the ashes flew with [...]
Too Late by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
We met as you were hiking from the house out to your mailbox, a long trek in your blue bathrobe and fluffy pink slippers. Heading home from my two-mile walk I hailed you, strolled up to visit. The friendship we’d promised ourselves got derailed by schedules and life. So there we stood, you deep in [...]
Map of the Soul by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
Asked to describe a map of the soul my mind is a towel flapping on a line, a white-textured sheet torn from a large sketch pad singed to irregular shape by a kitchen match held in the tips of my once-flamed fingers. Crisp edges smell of autumn bonfires pluming smoke to the sky, space blooms [...]
Heartstone by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
I went with writer-women to a meadow sky-high in mountains to a labyrinth laid out in courses of rock. In the spirit of the day I did the correct things: heard a talk on labyrinth history, looked at books spread like a picnic lunch, wafted rabbitbrush and prayer against cobalt air. I even tucked mugwort [...]
Alice in Wonderland by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
1 In a sun-filled glade in the wormwood fleabane torments wolfbane who howls threats with his painted tongue at the leopard’s bane chewing on blood flowers Under skunk cabbage possum grapes play dead Porcupine grass lays down its quills Spider lily spins snail vines ties Canary Island broom to sweep the place clean Gopher plant [...]
The over-the-hill doll by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
in my hands gift of a smirking friend sports a red polka-dot ribbon around her neck White curls fluff over eyes rimmed in purple ink A red felt heart festooned with straight pins for sticking on appropriate ailments sits beside labels on her chest “boobs, shortness of breath” In her middle comes “indigestion, hernia, gas” [...]
A specialized form of treatment by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
An hour in The Green Room is a specialized form of treatment The breeze ruffles your hair the fragrance of star jasmine climbs the fence A visiting mockingbird recites his repertoire Cup of tea resting on chair arm you gaze at the burbling creek watch water slide around rocks A great blue heron scissors his [...]
My texture is changing by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
My texture is changing The elastic form sags in sundry places Brown spots appear overnight and stay Silver glints more often in light brown hair and the steady march develops a slight plod Inside this changing form space expands Swirls around molecules allows recognition of other dreams other ways of being Patricia Wellingham-Jones has a [...]
The Descending Order of Throwables by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
How do you throw your ex-lover in the falls? How do you sling the neighbor’s yapping dog into the next county? How do you toss the cat’s filthy bowl? You rear back, whip your arm around, give it a big whirl, let go. Watch it fly like an Olympic discus with a howl of glee. [...]
On living alone by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
Don’t try to find me I want to stay lost I like it here in nowhere land I like having only my own rules to shape the day of my desires So keep your eyes in the other direction your shoulds and oughts in your sour mouth Leave me alone to find which path I [...]
Bone wine by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
elixir of very strange gods who dance in the moonless night on top of old graves Sip through their hemlock straws the essence of one-time humans forgotten and deep Patricia Wellingham-Jones has a longtime interest in ‘healing writing’ and the benefits people gain from writing and reading their work together. Chapbooks include Don’t Turn Away: [...]
Emergency Kit by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
Just in case another Katrina storm hits or an earthquake shivers the ground, you are prepared. You’ll kick the bags down the stairs (they are too heavy to carry), scramble for odds and ends (was there a single thing you forgot?), bolt out the back door. In a shelter or an abandoned car you’re ready [...]
The nude are sly by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
closing their belly buttons draping short hair clenching the muscles that bring up the rear They flash whole inches of skin gather rays against white flesh parade in the privacy of their front yards behind chain link fences Patricia Wellingham-Jones has a longtime interest in ‘healing writing’ and the benefits people gain from writing and [...]
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Cover Girl Stephenie Meyer: An Interview (Part One) with Deb Smouse
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Live Alone and Like It The Classic Guide for the Single Woman
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My Plan to Thrive while I Deal with Grief this Holiday Season
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Life, Love and Lesson Plans by Wynn Godbold
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Under the Bed by Jody Keisner
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With or Without You, A Memoir by Domenica Ruta
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The Mighty Kymm Recaps the Tony Awards
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Sunday Brunch: Notes from Baja Sur
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The Mighty Kymm’s Deep Cuts: Little Annie Roonie
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Habitation: C’est Manifique Les Mantiques
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Penny Luker: I'd not heard of this book, but it sounds interest...
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Roxanne: I missed the very beginning of the show, but saw t...
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Cathy: Laughed myself sick reading this, thanks for watch...
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Danielle Driscoll: Oh, wow! What a great find. I'm sure every time ...
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Anneke at This, That and Life: This is so true! I love the old fire extinguisher ...
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