great poetry reading day

In honor of Great Poetry Reading Day, here's the first (and so far only) prose poem I've written. { Also, this one's for Amy, the main reason we made it from Nashville to Santa Barbara in four and a half days, even with all our stops. That girl drives even faster than me. :-) }



8 Hours in Abilene
by Catherine M Braun

We limped into town three hours older than when we started, mouths Texas dry, skin drowning. The A/C gave up the ghost 630 miles ago, while we were looking for the King in the Jungle Room. Hell would be a welcome reprieve after Arkansas without recycled air. We made do with Dallas. 13 hours out of Nashville, that first night we crashed and I hoped whatever was wrong would work itself out with a 12-hour rest.

Hope may spring eternal, but sometimes it’s smothered, stifled, soaked, and heat-stroked. That second day we thanked God for the Texaco man who knew a place we could go. The dealership had a waiting room and a shuttle. We chose the shuttle – and the mall. Things always look better after pizza and bookstore browsing (my version of retail therapy). Until they look worse. And I didn’t have that kind of money.

Back at the dealership a deal made, a compromise. Forget the A/C, but fix the oil leaks and the dodgy camshaft. Tomorrow we’ll do Carlsbad in two hours, with the shin-splints to remind us. Tomorrow we’ll have lunch with aliens, be the first visitors from Santa Barbara at the International UFO Museum and Research Center – at least this month. (And I’m no longer from Nashville.) Today we haunt two leather couches and a cow-hide rug.

I had hoped to sleep in El Paso the second night. We only made it to Pecos.

trampling down death by death

O Death, where is thy sting?
O Hell, where is thy victory?
Christ is risen, and thou art overthrown!
Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen!
Christ is risen, and the angels rejoice!
Christ is risen, and life reigns!
Christ is risen, and not one dead remains in the grave.
For Christ, being risen from the dead,
is become the first-fruits of those who have fallen asleep.
To Him be glory and dominion unto ages of ages.
Amen.

- St. John Chrysostom (from his Paschal homily)

Christ is Risen! Truly He is Risen! A blessed Pascha and joyous Bright Week to all!

magnetic poetry

Sometimes the words just flow. Sometimes I work in fits and starts. And sometimes I use a gimmick to help. One of my gimmicky techniques is to use a "magnetic poetry" kit. I like how the limited word choices make me think about what I'm trying to say.

Dream Song
by Catherine M Braun

The meager carnival of summer
has faded into fall.

In the blue prison of the sky a solitary whisper rose,
murmured still music into ecstatic symphonies.

Gardens blossomed to Paradise;
meandering streams to immense seas.


Beneath the picture moon
red petals scent purple shadows.

The night sky dances to rain rhythms and storm music.
Blood sizzles in my veins – thoughts tingle on my skin.

My voice aches to sing
the raw beauty of this moment.


I'm drunk on the taste of my dreams.