Soul Bites Blog

Mr. Hulbert made my hands shakeBefore they even touched the keys.He said they should be loose as leavesBut don’t be afraid to slam the keysThe piano wouldn’t break. -M.

Autumn Walk Diaries: Smoke and Fire

Next-day smoke from the University Fire The thing this morning was smoke. We walk at around nine or ten and, at around nine or ten, the scene over Little Mountain towards Devore and the Cajon Pass was bleak. We wish for gray skies here. We hope for it. We pray for it. Some of us may even bay at the moon and dance for it—thirsty, drought stricken, dead lawn denizens that we are. But that gray…

There wasn’t much afoot on our walk this morning–how very clever of me–and we pretty much had the neighborhood to ourselves, which is just the way I like it. I pretend Kismet likes it that way too, but I’m sure her mighty, sporty poodle heart would prefer some action. Rounding the last turn from Sheridan onto Clemson, the mailman swung around to the box next to us as we passed the last house. We…

We put up with a certain level ofGross from our lovers andFarting on each other in bed andGiggling about it andDon’t you dare Dutch oven meAgain… Chester!Can be as intimate asThe world’s sweetestSulfur kiss. -M. Ashley Find me on TikTok at: MNAshleyPoetry Find me on TikTok at: MNAshleyPoetry

Maybe I should be outLoud about it. Maybe IShould talk. I know itSure would have helped meA lot if the woman theyKept in a box under theBed for seven years hadBeen a little more chatty. “These things do happen. TheyDo.” We would commiserateWith each other through theKnothole in her box and theKeyhole in the door I wasLocked and chained behind Also for seven years. Lucky lucky. “Colleen,” I…

Deja vu allOver the placeI’m waitingFor the secondShoe to dropAgain. -M.

I might miss caring when I’m deaddoing back flips with my horny godin the ether I may stopmy glory gathering around me likefireflies circling the mother firefor a blink I might misswondering how my lovedones are getting along without meI might miss the cozy straightjacket limitationsof the short view on deathI might miss the exhilaration ofdread not knowing whatfreedom lies in the Great…

We touched cheeks East met west we sweat Ans sweatily rolled Against each other side To side our shoulders Arms dewy hands taut Fingers turned our hips Forward now belly to Belly sex to sex our Mouths open we found Our peaceful Passages in the dark

-M.

My teeth crumble disease-gray gravel embedded in wet disease-gray globs—

the unset cement of recurring terrors spat into one of Dad’s coffee stained handkerchiefs.

My jaw and right cheekbone unhinge. Too much loss. Too much loss. Too much neglect.

Too much neglect. Too many blows to the little pink precocious mouth.

-M.

I’m All Wet Anyway

I am suggestible unembracing my suggestibility without context often getting my nose stuck in best-selling books on god—a new understanding every day an oracle in chapter-long spurts until Heaven gets too drippy and I find myself all wet.

-M.

The line tires me but the great, gray scratchy pens perk like scalding coffee.

A baby blanket the size of A grown woman’s Bed—the grown woman Lying in her god’s lap in Pain

They go to the bathroom Together one of those Weird couples who go to The bathroom together Because

She cannot walk or stand on Her own

Or sit or lie or do Any other thing on Her own when that Pain comes to take Its tax

Oh my god I’m in Agony

The Great Destroyer we Don’t believe in together has Wrapped me skin and Bone in thick veils of Agony

Her god offers her a bit of Cookie and promises her This bit of cookie the First food she’s eaten in A day

Will be the pleasure of A prayer

And not make her Sick it’s a big promise—a Promise only a great god Has the heart to make And keep

Safe in his hundred arms Enfolded we sweat away My freedom hearts as One ticking thing a Lifetime of un-spread wings

This poem is unfair To a god who loves me truly Enough to cut off my Oxygen sometimes

Second Best Hair

Still keeps your head warm

And your lover's fingers busy.

-M.

I’m working on a book. I’m making an outline from my notes. I found this and it tickled me. “I don’t know if any publisher is going to want to publish anything authoritative that I say pretty much just came out of my own butt.”

All too true. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.