To Write in Circles
Never must become nowhere.
into once again, dinging mirrors
tomorrow’s bumper rubs yesterday’s
shine from existence. Eventually
(originally added as a footnote)
must witness eternity,
collapse inside its own insanity,
reflect upon infinity. Only
then can after sneak up on ever, and crack
today down the middle. Whatever.
Everything has already named itself
I Am Penny
dreadful(ly useless). I stick to pavement
face down. I am bad
luck, a shiny pittance, a weight
in shadowed pockets. Drop me.
Remind me I am nothing
more than another childish wish.
How calm you stay
This room is living—
you. Needing the wound
behind shallow curtains.
The floor is learning
The ceiling chooses
not to be.
into a cloud,
hover like a drawbridge.
You anchor darkness,
with a purr.
On the Phone
that night peril and bravery ended
with the day, and mystery seemed to be
a lost lesson. I said it was late
and had to go become
unhinged. I wanted to cut loose from the world,
become a permanent outsider, but it hurt
me to think. I did not want to teach anything.
I felt tainted by the things I knew. I heard
nothing. I was struck with sudden revelry,
floated in stasis inside an almost-fictional world
of solid and silence.
The Road to Insomniac Road begins somewhere around my fourth cup
of caffeinated bean juice. I cannot breathe
until its kick-started steam strokes my brain.
Fingers of a fickle lover, it picks
each day’s scars: to-do’s that didn’t
get done, mistakes that shouldn’t have been
made, absences holding space for something
forgotten. Each is plucked like strung chords,
tuned deliberately off-key. The unsoothing
cacophony rocks me, one second at a time,
Because Cobwebs shine like diamond tiaras
in the moonlight, I believe I am
through midnight’s masquerade
with one shoe on, I emulate balance.
A flawed perception of tomorrow
cuts the darkness ahead of me like
magic. Wand at the ready, I stumble
into the harsh light of “Happily
Ever After,” gag when I see what I am
supposed to slip more than my foot into.
Popcorn Unplugged Oil-slicked theatrical, returned
to base form. Golden nugget
of potential, unactualized
form of favored vegetable, waiting
to crack unsuspecting enamel
A.J. Huffman has published thirteen full-length poetry collections, fourteen solo poetry chapbooks and one joint poetry chapbook through various small presses. Her most recent releases, Degeneration (Pink Girl Ink), A Bizarre Burning of Bees (Transcendent Zero Press), and Familiar Illusions (Flutter Press) are now available from their respective publishers. She is a five-time Pushcart Prize nominee, a two-time Best of Net nominee, and has published over 2500 poems in various national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, The Bookends Review, Bone Orchard, Corvus Review, EgoPHobia, and Kritya. She is also the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press. www.kindofahurricanepress.com.
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