September 7-13, 2009: Michelle Angelini and Jennifer L. Ethington

week of September 7-13, 2009: 

Michelle Angelini and Jennifer L Ethington

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Michelle Angelini

Bio (auto)

Michelle Angelini lives in Hollywood with her cat, Sasha She has been writing poetry for over 25 years In the past several years, Michelle has been a member of Emerging Urban Poets at the Catalina Library in Pasadena, plus being published in the group’s quarterlies and calendars She also has several of her own chapbooks, “Mise en Poem,” “On Becoming a Sexagenarian,” “This City Where I Live,” “Half Moon Rising,” and “Updated Oldies: Love and Other Fantasies “ Her themes for poetry are gathered from the world around her, animals, photography, emotional issues, and nature In addition, Michelle writes a daily reflective journal called Lessons from Life Writing poetry satisfies Michelle’s creative side, but working as a substitute teacher pays the bills.

The following work is Copyright © 2009, and owned by Michelle Angelini and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Flyaway: In the Midst of Wings

It’s like the commercial
The photographer arrives
in the middle of a field
just as wild birds become airborne
She mentions that capturing
the experience on film is a goal
but being in the middle
of it is amazing

When I walked by the LA River
I was in the middle of a flock of pigeons
where I felt part
of a flock ritual
took off
flew in one direction
with the wind
then turned back
several times more
in the wind’s direction

I’ve always wondered
why flocks of birds
fly aerial switchbacks
While I still do not know
the answer
I’m just content
to have been in the middle
of a flyaway

Jennifer L Ethington

Bio (auto)

I am 39 years old and reside in Lawrenceville, New Jersey I’ve been writing poetry since I was a child, and with any luck it’s become more readable since then

The following work is Copyright © 2009, and owned by Jennifer L Ethington and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


I’ve never liked doctors
Their hands are always cold
When they’re poking and prodding
frigid hands, icy words,
delivering bad news in a worse tone
I didn’t want to hear the diagnosis, 
Why the blood, why the pain,
What had happened But I knew what it was:
It was a loss Our loss You’re just a babe yourself;
This wasn’t supposed to happen I mean, not the end result, but… Now that it has, it’s for the best Our mistake
I wanted to cry as it left me,
Cramped and bleeding and alone at midnight But the tears wouldn’t come There was only pain And I couldn’t tell you I gritted my teeth, I rode it out,
And I flushed it.

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