January 23-29, 2017: Poetry from Kathleen A. Lawrence and Bernadine Lortis

​Kathleen A. Lawrence and Bernadine Lortis

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​Kathleen A. Lawrence
lawrencek@cortland.edu

Bio (auto)

Kathleen A. Lawrence lives in Cortland, New York, near the Finger Lakes. Poems appear in two Prince memorial anthologies, Crow Hollow 19, Altered Reality Magazine, the Science Fiction Poetry Association website, Rattle (online), and other venues. Born in Rochester, New York — home of Kodak, the Garbage Plate, and Cab Calloway — Kathleen spent most of her youth in a plaid jumper. She now teaches Communication, Popular Culture, and Gender Studies at SUNY Cortland.

The following work is Copyright © 2016, and owned by ​Kathleen A. Lawrence and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


Holly Would

(abecedarian)

Aspiring actresses
bauble breasts,
corset cheeks,
dishing dirt.
Envy envelopes
fans fanning
gooey gossip
handling hangers-on.
Ionizing images,
jerks joke.
Kunzite knobbed,
lounging ladies
mimic mangled
nip-tucks nitpicked.
Opalescent ovaries,
pretty pouches
quench quinine.
Rouge roughens
slow satin
teetotalers tying
ugly Uggs.
Vigorous Veronicas
wrestle women
exploiting XXX’s
yo-yo Yolandas.
Zoo zip-locked.

 



Bernadine Lortis
ideagardener1@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

An avid reader, gardener and dabbler in watercolor, Bernadine has been writing secretly and sporadically for years. Degrees in Art and Education were occupationally driven. Since submitting in June, 2016, her poems and creative nonfiction were published in Stirring, Mused-bellaonline, Silver Birch, Mothers Always Write, The Afterlife of Discarded Objects and soon in Miller’s Pond. She writes and lives with her husband of 45 years in St. Paul, MN where she finds inspiration all about her.

The following work is Copyright © 2016, and owned by Bernadine Lortis and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

And on a More Personal Note

I wrote things
I wrote on a note
no
no I won’t
I wrote
you don’t own me
Ramon, and

on a more musical note
I wrote a song
a song
so sad I cried
but I was crying
long before
I sang the song and

on a more sober note
I drank
you, I swallowed
you, I slashed
our dream
delerious
while some crank pumped
my stomach so

on a more personal note
Ramon
unless
you guess the seriousness
this cry sings of—
ask the Dove
she knows.