Saturday, December 18, 2021

What the Ink Sees


Flying Outside the Wire

Freedom is an oily key,

a dangerous walk across

the ear of sanity searching

for the sound of your own breath.


Programmed by wire boundaries,

and wingspan of hell’s generosity

I am a wildling crow learning to fly

a sky that doesn’t stink of vengeance.

©Susie Clevenger 2021

Testing a Theory


Dressed to the nines,

the tail and spur of it,

I prance vanity’s sidewalk

testing the cracks in pavement

to see if my shadow will choose

to add or subtract.


Dear god, it is annoying

 to have fate boast

 it own’s the calculator.

©Susie Clevenger 2021

Flying Without an Airbrush


Stop staring!

I’ve been in enough kettles

to know the price of fire.


While you whine and photoshop

I’m flying where I choose

without the weight of airbrushing

myself into fiction.

©Susie Clevenger 2021

Wednesday, December 8, 2021

River of Eyes

“Bone by bone, hair by hair, Wild Woman comes back. Through night dreams, through events, half understood, and half remembered...” ― Clarissa Pinkola Est├ęs

With the moon hanging from a question mark,

and the wolf drinking from a river of eyes,

I walk the shore of shadows searching for answers

among star shells at my feet.


Christened with the name Impatient

by Pew Huggers of the Worst Intent,

I am tongue slapped with I don’t

have enough faith if I keep dropping why

into the offering plate of affliction.  


Caught in a murder of crowing

I pace in circles trying to find my escape.


In the pfft and hiss of judgement’s posturing

the wolf howls and then speaks,

“A clock doesn’t hear, nor a calendar predict.

There are questions that will always question.

Answers you wish to never know.

Understand the flame of human will only

burn as bright as the one who strikes the match.” 

©Susie Clevenger 2021

The Sunday Muse #189

Wednesday, December 1, 2021

Blackberry Bruised Moon


I’m daddy’s girl,

blackberry bruised

moon shadow of dread.


I never speak because

the walls listen and

tattle tale to ears

that grow fists.


Inside my head words

walk my teeth trying

to find an exit, but

any sound they risk

would open a river of blood.


Hell has a cradle, a salt thread quilt.

Daddy owns a Bible…I hold the truth.


For everything there’s a season,

Now’s the time for Daddy's blackberry bruised moon

to shine light on his guilt.

©Susie Clevenger 2021

May the Turpin children never know horror again.

House of Horrors

Created from Shay's Word Garden Word List #2 (Plath)

Words I chose are highlighted in list

Word List: blackberries, brag, coiled, counterfeit, daddydithers, exitgobbledygoo,

hearing, idiot, lilies, lioness, mailed, maniacs, mend, moon, peacocks, shadows, space, water