Writing Life
My bestie’s cousin–they call him Sketch
Pad–has a tattoo on his penis
But was too pain-shy to finish
The right half of his left-right
Two word rib tat. He was supposed
To be “Black Sheep.” He ended up
BLACK
SH…
(Ellipsis implied, not actually tatted.)
-M. Ashley
I hope this is the last time my
Tired ass leaves the seat of
This gray vinyl hospital chair
Turned forty-five degrees to
My mother’s gray blanketed
Hospital bed. She’s being
Discharged today to better things
I hope.
Today—leaving day—
Is the first day I noticed there is
Color in this room. I have nothing
Poetry profound to say about
This presence—the coral and blue.
Nothing you can carry in your pocket when
Your mom attempts slow suicide too by
Refusing to eat—to comfort you. To
Reckon the anger. All the anger.
Except to say the color is there.
The color is there, aloof
Of whether you see it or not.
But do see it. See the color.
It’s there.
-M. Ashley
photo taken at Kaiser Ontario Hospital, Ontario, CA
Following behind my father
in the deep snow of Prescott, AZ.
Put your feet in my footprints, he said,
And he made them deep and clear.
-M.
The croupier god comped me a suite at The Palace, (offseason), and led me through the hallways personally, making smalltalk, explaining how the elevators work, keeping a steady pace while his scuffed rake dangled from a black elastic loop sewn custom into the lining of his white suit jacket. He opened the coded door for me, (first try), deciphered the thermostat, unstuck the drawers, programmed the remote to new, in-house channels, and turned the well-dressed bed down.
He said, “This luxury is where you lie.”
He handed me a gold card with my name embossed, black laurel in the upper right corner framing a female silhouette with an EZ-Read magnetic strip on the backside hovering over a hotlist of company-owned joints.
He said, “This is how we feed you for free.”
He strummed his swarthy fingers over an orderly row of three-score and ten play-worn purple checks arranged in an open, unfinished wooden box lined in remnant green felt and set on top of the empty honor bar.
He said, “And these? These are a very good start.”
-M. Ashley
As of today, this poem is ten years old. Crazy crazy crazy. Happy New Year everyone!
“Flow down and down in always widening rings of being.”
-Rumi
I imagine us bound together by barrel
Rings. Maybe we could go into the lovers’
Protection program under the name
Cooper and you could kiss my clever
Mouth with your clever mouth almost
Out in the open. Only the gods and the
Government would know we were never
Supposed to end up barrel bound to
Each other.
Your people think you married down.
Fuck your people. I married you and
You’re a criminal—with lots of money so…
Is that up or sideways? With you
It’s almost always sideways.
A barrel on its side rolls wobbly.
-M. Ashley
Gratitude, my love song to you
Love is patient and many-faced
Teaching me miraculous compassion
You sing it back to me
Love is patient and many-faced
May I, un-healed, go with you healing
You sing it back to me
May I, restless, with you bring rest
May I, un-healed, go with you healing
Safe and still my tempest past
May I, restless, with you bring rest
Just and safe my Now
Safe and still my tempest past
Teaching me miraculous compassion
Just and safe my Now
Gratitude, my love song to you.
-M. Ashley
We didn’t see—we sensed him
Black hair, caramel skin, dressed in blue and black
Lovely voice, petite man, graceful hand
Magically he opened the cake case from the front
Black hair, caramel skin, dressed in blue and black
Delighted ladies sighed in surprise
Magically he opened the cake case from the front
He did it for the delighted ladies’ sighs
Delighted ladies sighed in surprise
He said he’d die if he had to…
He did it for the delighted ladies’ sighs
…Go in from the back every time
-M. Ashley
Purple kangaroo wine, cheap and bitter
Gratitude shouts louder than a flash flood warning
Climax withheld for one notch less drunk than this
Red solo cup abandoned on the windowsill
Gratitude shouts louder than a flash flood warning
Half full of wine–collecting rain
Red solo cup abandoned on the windowsill
Pajamas and flip flops in a tangle by the bed
Half full of wine–collecting rain
God’s body happens where lightning strikes something
Pajamas and flip flops in a tangle by the bed
Only one window opens wide enough
-M. Ashley
Dear God, I keep
One ear open
And try to obey
At least half the time.
-M. Ashley
“Certainly I was interested. I had to be, for I was hopeless.”
-“Bill’s Story,” Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 10
Abandon all hope, ye who enter
Here I lay all enamored of Interest
Who sexily swayed into the stuffy
Room where I divorced Hope—finally
Mouth all full of sugar
Heart all full of hate
Interest the mistress—
The new
Promised woman
Show me
What you’ve got.
-M. Ashley
M. N. Ashley 