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Anne Mitchell
Two Abcedarians
What is a poem? A poem breathes quietly in an abecedarian’s basement, dark, like the black lagoon some creature in a little cart with...
Anne Mitchell
Alternate Universe
Skim headlines then re-write the rosy side. Your blue sky will come with the gold of spring. Losses of winter disappear in spring- babies...
Anne Mitchell
A poem on identity has me perched atop an existential high dive…
To write about what formed me into this Anne at a point in life sandwiched between passing of parents, flyaway of a child, covid-era...
Anne Mitchell
Cicadas Swarm Ocean Avenue
In old Carmel, Bohemians shared poems from a shelter of Cypress Wickiups, the abalone butterflyed open into pearled rainbows- Now, Red...
Anne Mitchell
Burmese Lesson
In Mandalay my guesthouse hostess Alice, served sweet milk tea in little glass cups. “I was an English Professor at University before...
Anne Mitchell
Starset
You do not have to figure it all out. You don’t have to bow to what they say you should feel, look like, do for a living. You need only...
Anne Mitchell
Becoming scarecrow
I sit in the garden after work to enjoy the decay of fall. Oak moths flutter reaper fairies aflame to a serenade from three crows. The...
Anne Mitchell
Blue Agave
A Century plant pierces through grey fog above a white stucco house. Sentry agave tower to cloud nine beside her white stucco house. She...
Anne Mitchell
Mystery in the bathroom
After Billy Collins’ “Christmas Sparrow” What caught my eye first, was the updraft of feathers, weightless, suspicious. Remnants of a...
Anne Mitchell
My diver whispers...
Weightlessness. A Caribbean winter of forgotten fins, Stingray stares a barb of trust through us, you knifed him freedom from a net, and...
Anne Mitchell
Trade wind lullaby
In the bedroom we burrow a nest, our sleepy time tundra walled in saffron. Palms sway and sing, a breeze of back up strings to the...
Anne Mitchell
Open Sesame
May I walk through this door from black and white to meander like Toto in Technicolor, from the tsunami of trashcans brimming in...
Anne Mitchell
Crossing the Bonneville Salt Flats with Gnat
We left Salt Lake City at dawn, westward on I-80, onyx river over salt, daughter furled in a seat-belted nest, over landscapes of Pluto,...
Anne Mitchell
Dear Coffee
I wake you into a pot at 3:30 am, grace in hazel, eyes barely open. A plunge into the pool of Cashew Milk & Colorado Honey. You perfume...
Anne Mitchell
Beach Walk
I watched the surfers this morning. A ballet of arrowheads floated over jade glass, Cormorants as audience dove alongside. They remind me...
Anne Mitchell
Out of Tickets to Ride
I squirm at that phantom hand of smoke, a clawed finger beckons toward a carnie operator, keeper of the wheel in plaid knickers, who...