Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Aren't They Though?

from the midst of despair
the knife calls from the kitchen

draw my cool sharp steel
down the warm inside of your arm
let loose the misery
that plagues you

let me help you sleep

 the temporary prick from my blade
will end the continuing pain
that is your failure

the knife is a real dick.

written 10/01/14

Have you entered the contest yet? There's just a few days left!

Monday, September 29, 2014

Tailgating the Zombie Apocalypse

It is essential that your tailgating supplies are easily accessible if you are going to successfully survive a Zombie Apocalypse. Jenn knew this in her bones. And here it was...tailgating time. She was gathering her supplies and yelled over her shoulder.

"Mama! Have you heard from Anna and them yet?"

"No! I can't reach her on the phone and she would have been here by now if she were okay."

Jenn knew that Anna would stay too long at work trying to help people. Her big sister was trying to save the world, and she knew that she needed to save  her sister. She had already attached the reinforced, homemade camper to the back of her four by four and loaded it up. She gathered the extra weapons and headed over the the agency to get her sister.

written 4/11/14 in response to Would Alabamians Survive a Zombie Apocalypse? and as a companion piece to A Brief Conversation Between Two Social Workers.

Have you entered the contest yet? You could win a Season Four Pass to the No Sleep Podcast.

Monday, September 22, 2014

My Big News!!!!

UPDATE: David Cummings of the very awesome No Sleep Podcast has generously donated  a SECOND Season Four Pass!!!!! So I have extended the giveaway by a week. Click on "A Rafflecopter giveaway" below and enter the contest, and while you're online, check out the Podcast, maybe even give it a high rating on your podcast server. Halloween in coming and this podcast will jump start the holiday for you. Thank you so much to the most excellent David Cummings for his generosity and wonderful work. 

Hey y'all!

This summer, I had a horrible case of ringworm (that I think will become a scary story one day).  And I didn't feel like writing. Although I did teach myself to knit, weave, loom, and crochet and I worked on some embroidery. Since I was always online watching tutorials anyway, I decided to swing by reddit to see what was new on No Sleep. The first thing I noticed was that I had a message. When I checked it, I has a month old request from the No Sleep Podcast requesting PERMISSION TO RECORD PEGGY FOR A SHOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (you may so totally shout with glee here.) The whole reason that I finally wrote out Peggy and posted it to No Sleep was because I really wanted one of my stories on that podcast. I immediately wrote back and gave permission. The reply I received was that they thought the story had been abandoned and went ahead and recorded and posted it already. AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My story was published on the third episode of Season Four on June 29. Since they didn't know who I was, they gave me the pseudonym Lisa Garfield, which is kind of stuck on the audio. My story is the fourth one which means that it is not one of the stories that you can listen to for free.  It is $1.49 per episode or $19.99 for the season pass. Since I love this podcast, and I am over the fucking moon about my story getting chosen I want to give away a Season Pass, so I have decided to host a giveaway using Rafflecopter. Sign up below and I will let Rafflecopter to chose a winner in a week. Once the winner is chosen, I will get in touch with that person and get the information necessary for their subscription.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 I'm not sure if this is necessary, but this is open to anyone who is 16 or older and lives in a place where they can receive a subscription. I have chosen to use Rafflecopter because most of my readers are my family and friends, who are allowed to participate. I am not receiving any compensation for running this give away, I just want to share the scary joy!

Please take time to check out the No Sleep Podcast and the No Sleep forum. This recent story is particularly terrifying!  With reddit, you really want to read the comments.

Thanks for sharing this with me, y'all.


Friday, September 19, 2014


I apologize, but there has been a delay in my exciting announcement. I hope to post it Monday. Thank you for your patience and I promise I won't hint at future posts again. (I really should know better.)

Thank you,


Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Moonlight Travels

my fingers wander
over your body's hills and
down the valleys

the texture of skin
warm to touch
compels me onwards

our journey together
illuminated only by the moonlight
brings us home

as the heat subsides
sleep sets in
come with me there too.

written 9/16/14 for dVerse Poetics

Yay! A poem for the ever awesome dVerse Poets Pub . Gabriella challenges us to use travel to inspire our poetry. Since all I have really wanted to write over the past couple of days could best be categorized as porn, I took a little creative license with the prompt. I also tried to tone down the smut, and decided that Lunes might help with that. For this poem I have alternated Collum and Kelly Lunes to make the stanzas. I love Lunes.  Why not hop on over to dVerse and check out the other travel poetry?

Also, if you get a chance, swing back by Friday for my good news.

Monday, September 15, 2014

More on Blogging

Once again, I have had a burst of writing followed by a long silence. And I realized some things about how I blog.

I like NaPoWriMo and it revs me up for writing. It feels like I could write and write and write everyday forever. And then something, usually depression, happens and I stop. I also stop reading and visiting other blogs, waiting for it to pass. [Although this time, it was a combination of feeling weird after participating in the blog hop (I'm not sure why) and a remarkably nasty, hardy, contagious, and itchy case of ringworm. That thing lasted for over two and a half months. >:-( ]

It's the not visiting my favorite blogs (and to a lesser extent replying to comments to my posts) that seems to get me in the most trouble. I begin to feel like I can't post until I have caught up in visits. And, at that point, blog reading becomes homework, and if I wanted to do homework, I would still be working on my PhD. I turn something I like into a duty, and that's not what I want. If I read and comment on 20  posts from the same blogger like a stalker binge-reading, I would rather it be because I am enjoying the writing and not because I feel obligated.

I may be the only person who blogs who feels compelled  to reciprocate out of duty, but I kind of doubt it. I have read the other occasional, "I-have-to-catch-up-on-reading-blogs" posts. So I have decided to liberate myself and the five of you (A,B,B,B,&B) who read and comment on the lasagna with regularity. Reciprocity is not a requirement here.  That felt good. Let me write that again.

Reciprocity is not a requirement here. 

Even if I am visiting you via a community that encourages reciprocity. If I have been by and commented, please don't feel obligated to return the visit. That feeling of obligation reduces my pleasure in reading blogs and stokes my anxiety to the point where I can't write.  Fuck that shit, this is supposed to be fun y'all.

So, we are starting over with a clean slate. I am going to start profiling writing I like on Mondays via my Twitter and Facebook accounts again. #FridayFartPoems will also return to Twitter and Facebook. I'm ready to get back to writing. (And you may notice more bodies-are-gross poetry popping up.)

Finally, something super exciting happened this summer that I didn't find out about until a month later. I don't want to announce it at the moment, because I want this up for a couple of days to get some views.

Thanks for stopping by


Wednesday, August 27, 2014

It Sneaks Up On You

i don't want to be in the house
with my family
i want to run far


i'm grumpy and
i want to sleep all
of the time.

i hate these clothes
it's a struggle just to get my bra off
and it makes my breasts hurt.


my breasts hurt?

oh, fuck me, my period's coming.

no wonder i feel like shit.

come on and start already

and let me get back to my life.

written 8/27/14

Yep. I'm beginning to think I'm a confessionalist.  Can anybody spare a heating pad, some Mini Snickers, and a 70's disaster film?

Saturday, August 23, 2014

Too Much Mystery

I've known my husband
          20 years...this August.

In October
          celebrate our ninth wedding anniversary.

This week I made a
          about the size disparity between my breasts.

He said
          They aren't the same size?

Maybe our marriage
          a little too much mystery.

written 4/11/14

The stuff I find when I'm early morning browsing my rough drafts.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Ask Gradual Grampy Watching an Alabama Football Game

Dear Gradual Grampy Watching an Alabama Football Game,

I am at my wit's end!  I have been dating a woman, and I think that she's "the one." She is beautiful, smart, funny, successful and we rock in bed. The problem is that I hate her dog. She has one of those little rat-dogs that is always underfoot and constantly growls at me. She has to put it out of the bedroom and shut the door when we want to be alone. How soon after I pop the question can I tell her the dog has got to go? I have even considered taking the dog out one day and "losing" it on the side of the road, but, with my luck it would find it's way home.

sign me,
I Hate That Bitch

Dear I Hate That Bitch, 

You do have a problem, go. You have a wonderful woman with a pesky dog, go baby! I am left wondering a few things, What! Is He Blind?!!! You have listed many positive qualities about, "the one" but, Roll Tide,  you haven't clarified GO BABY GO! GO BABY! GO BABY GO! GO...ROLL TIDE! TOUCHDOWN ALABAMA!  ROOOLLL TIDE ROLL!

Gradual Grampy Watching an Alabama Football Game

written 8/19/14 at 4 fucking 30 in the morning

I don't like being up this early, but I'm all writey now and I can't sleep. I will do some catch up posting about what's been going on later, although some of it you probably already know. This has been one hell of a summer. No wonder that I wanted to write something to amuse myself. I may be the only one who thinks this is even halfway funny, but I was inspired by some comments I read on reddit by /u/Gradual_Swede. I thought that I wanted to do something similar, but with the way my Grampy used to act when he watched Alabama Football. And so I also borrowed the advice column format from The Onion. If you want to ask GGWAAFG, please feel free to send it end. I'm sure he has an answer for you.

Sunday, August 17, 2014

My Son's Name Is Jack.


Please, please help me. My son’s name is Jack. His name is Jack. He is only five years old. He stands a little over three feet tall and has fair skin and blue eyes and dark curly hair that he likes to hang down in his face. He is smart and he is funny. He loves Captain America and dinosaurs and My Little Ponies. Please think about him; remember him; believe in him. His name is Jack and he is fading away.

It started this summer. He caught a case of ringworm that spread all over him and he wasn't able to go to day camp with his brother and sister. I don't know if it is connected, but that is when I noticed that something was going on. When I went to talk to the day camp about withdrawing Jack until the ringworm cleared, they said that it was okay. He was never registered.  I thought that it was me being flaky, and let it go. Jack and I would spend the day together while Ava and Evan went to camp.

Ava and Evan are my other two children. Ava is six and Evan is four. Jack... Jack is five. Unlike Jack my other two have blonde hair. Jack is also more introverted and quiet than Ava and Evan.  
People often comment on how Ava and Evan look like their dad or each other. They say that Jack looks like me. I think it's the dark hair. I would have never admitted this to anyone before, but I have always felt closer to Jack than to my other children. Now, I don't care if that makes me a bad mom. Jack is mine and I can't lose him. Not my Jack. 

When Ava and Evan would come home from camp, they would eat a snack, excitedly tell me about their day and then run off to play together. From the start, Jack seemed excluded. I would see Jack sitting alone, watching his brother and sister and ask why he wasn't playing with them. 

"They forgot me, Mommy."

I felt nauseated and didn't know why. 

"Sweetheart, they don't forget you. They just get busy. Do you want me to get out Candyland, and we can all play together?"

"No Mommy. I just want to watch them for a while." My son looked sad and old. Babies aren't supposed to look that old.

I went outside to my other two children. 

"Hey! Did y'all forget about Jack?" I was kidding.

They both stopped playing on their swing set  and looked at me for a moment. It was maybe ten seconds, but I could see in their faces that for that ten seconds, they had no idea what I was talking about. 

"Jack, Mommy? Jack is inside."

And I stopped there. I didn't push it. I should have.

"Alright my sweetie-pies. We're going to eat supper in about a half an hour. Y'all are coming in then and I don't want any fussing."

"Yes Mommy!" in unison.

I don't remember seeing the three of them play together since then. 

A week later, the ringworm cream wasn't working and so I tried to make an appointment for Jack to see the doctor to get a prescription. Our doctor's office has this website where you can just send in a request for an appointment. I had spent an hour inputting us all into the system and setting up passwords a year ago. When I went to request an appointment, Jack's name was not listed on our page. I sent an email. I even remember the exact wording. I wrote:

"Good morning! I would like to request an appointment with Dr. Harrison for my son, Jack. He has had ringworm for a week and it is not responding to the cream I bought at the pharmacy. When I went to request the appointment in his name, it had been removed. I would also like to request a code key for him, so that I may reenter him into the system. His name is Jack Graves."

The reply they sent me was:

"Good morning Ms. Helmer. We have processed your request for a new blue card for your son, Evan Graves. You may pick it up at any time. If you would rather, we can also mail it directly to the school, since you have already signed the release."

I reread their reply and then my original email. Evan needed a new blue card, but I had not submitted a request. I couldn't make sense of it. I felt a chill on my right arm. 

"They forgot me, Mommy." 

I jumped. His hand was the cold spot on my arm. I didn't even hear him. His hand seemed to have no weight at all.

"What baby?"

"The doctor's office. They forgot me. Everyone is forgetting me."

"Sweetie! I'm not forgetting you." I picked him up and almost sent him over my head. He was lighter. He looked the same, but he wasn't as heavy. I squeezed him as tight to me as I could. I could tell by the way that he moved, that he was hugging me back just at tightly, but I barely felt any pressure. 

"Jack. Sweet boy. You stay with me. I love you. I am not forgetting you. You stay here with me, okay?"

The slight pressure relaxed and he looked at me.



"You'll forget me too, Mommy."

"Never! I promise. You are my boy and I am never going to forget you. And I'll make everyone else remember too!" 

I called my husband and asked him to leave work and come home so that I could talk to him. 

He looked worried as he walked in the back door 20 minutes later. 

"Devon, something is wrong with Jack. He's cold and he feels lighter, and as crazy as it sounds, people are forgetting that he's here. That he exists. They aren't even responding to me when I talk about him. No one even seems to see him."

"Heidi, it's okay. We can work it out. Once both Ava and Evan are in school, you should be able to pick up your hours. But it's also no rush. We'll be okay with you easing your way back in. Don't trigger a panic attack worrying about that job."

"Devon, what the fuck are you talking about? I am telling you that no one seems to be able to remember our son! There is some crazy shit going on, but it's not me having another panic attack. Jack. Jack is....disappearing. He seems to be losing substance. No one remembers him. You have to help him. Help me!" A cold draft on my leg and a small voice.

"Daddy forgot me, Mommy. He doesn't even hear what you are saying. He thinks you are talking about something else. You are the only one who knows me now."

I looked down, at my small, beautiful son. He seemed almost translucent.  I noticed the rug underneath him. I had bought it with my first paycheck. I started to worry. How was I ever going to get back into the swing of things at work full time? Part time was overwhelming as it was. Was I cheating my children by picking up hours? They are only four and six once...

And there he was. Jack! My sweet boy. I had forgotten. That quick. He was gone because I had forgotten. I don't know how I remembered, but it brought him back. 

I sat on the floor and pulled him into my lap. I wrapped my arms around him and felt them go almost through. 

No, he's my son. He's my Jack.

Devon thought I was going to throw up and brought me an anti-emetic. He sat with me on the floor while I cried and apologized to Jack.

"Devon, just say his name for me. Say Jack"

"It will be okay. I love you, too. We'll get through this."

Jack just sat cradled in my arms with his head on my chest. 

"I'm tired, Mommy."

"I'm sorry baby, please hang on."

"You forgot me for a minute."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I won't forget you again. I promise. Never. Never ever. Mommy loves her Jackie."

"It's okay, Mommy. And it will be okay when you forget."

I just sat there and cried. I won't forget. It won't be okay.

This has gone on for weeks now. Everyone interacts with me like I am not screaming "Look at Jack! He's right here! Believe in him!"

So now, I am alone in my room with Jack. He sits in my lap dozing as I type this. I don't know what else to do. None of my friends, family, or casual acquaintances remember Jack. I can't even get them to hear his name. 

So here I am. 

On the internet.

This is the only place on Earth that I think may be able to understand what is going on. The only place that will comprehend what I am writing and believe. Because I need you to believe. 



I know I sound like some stupid speech from Peter Pan, I don’t care. Please believe in my boy Jack. I have a son named Jack. Please think about my boy, Jack. Picture him with his dark curls and serious face.  Please. Help him. Help me. I need Jack. He is my little fella and I love him. Mommy loves you Jack. Mommy loves you. I won’t forget you Jack. I won’t forget you Jack. I won’t forget you. I won’t forget. I won’t forget. I won’t forget. I won't.

My son is Jack.


Please, Jack.


written 8/17/14