Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #2                        Page 11
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The Blog Bog

The Mag Rack

(for David Francis)

Pre-Halloween track work-
The MTA's "Lost Weekend" journey.
The D train to Coney Island,
an N train in drag.

A slo-mo freak show
behind smeared plexiglass.
Shanties moon the banks
of the puke-green creek.
In garbage dump forests,
trees of heaven
strip in sunlight.
Can-crushed cars
in assorted positions-
an orgy of Skittles' color.
Grungy trash
does the "full monty"
on crabgrass.
Nature falls in love
with graffiti sludge.

"Life is beautiful,"
a clichéd haiku meltdown-
"enjoy the journey."

                      Patricia Carragon October 2014 ___



I slashed him. The knife felt good and I was empowered by it.

He never resisted. He became the sacrifice for my emotional pain. Instead of screaming,
he fell to his knees and cried. I looked at him and smiled.

Behind him was a pond where his blood once rose to the surface, forming a large heart-
shaped design. The water inside the heart's perimeters held healing power. But today,
the pond was nothing more than an arid waste of wrinkled soil.

When I saw his bloodied face, my knife dropped, but I didn't offer comfort or even an
apology. Without emotion, I was as dry as the pond.

Then I woke up, touching his vacancy on my bed. His shoes next to my mine were
missing. His non-presence made me feel lonelier than ever.

slashed thoughts, missing shoes
love never heals on dry soil
heartache sleeps alone

                  Patricia Carragon November 2011 ___


My problems sit beside me,
observing as I sip my rosť.
They're not seen by others,
but I know they're here.
Like old acquaintances,
they keep me up-to-date
with bad news.
Should I switch tables
or tell them to go
somewhere else?
But my dilemma
was already served
and I needed company.
I refill my glass to the rim,
take one, long sip
before the glass slips
from my hand.

                      Patricia Carragon March 2013___