Warming up with some flash poetry. Hope you like it. Just wrote it. Love, CA
Goat
Sister tells me her move is over; Yes, it went well.
Currently, she is counting spoons. That damn robin
is nesting on my window. Time scratches. How many
moons have I seen through the eyes of hungry, pawing
horses. No more. Then, and only then, the fanlike lashes
were sideways spokes. Go ahead, travel this whole world,
because movement is safe, where the jokes are thick,
and the women are waves, and the children belong
to the crowd. Then fly home. Stay. Sit in a hard-backed,
antique chair until terror comes to you -- a second hand
coat, a thin skin -- and hail becomes fire. Because for you,
stillness has no windows. One hand on the goat, I’ll help
you rise up. I’ll help you find the two cleanest saucers.
C.A. MacConnell
4/29/2018
Thank You...and Then Some!
Skater, Devou Park
I'd like to take a moment to thank all of you who support my work.
Nearly every day, I get comments on the books, in person and through email, and it's a thrill. If you would still like a copy of GRIFFIN FARM, go here. If you would like a copy of THE HOUSE OF ANCHOR, go here.
Again, thank you for your support, and I hope you like the photo above. Working on a bunch of new work, including Book #3, so stay tuned. :)
In the meantime, I'm going to start blogging like mad, so please feel free to check out this site daily. The main page is here. Yes, you can add it to your favorites. Just click the link, and you'll find my daily ramblings -- poetry, fiction, essays, photography. Easy! Yes! 👍👏😊😊💗
Or, for those who are feeling adventurous, you can subscribe to the blog, and it'll get sent to your email. Rad. Or, you can check it out through Google+. Many options.🏃🎈🐘🐘
Don't miss out! Some wild stories and scenes up ahead!
Nearly every day, I get comments on the books, in person and through email, and it's a thrill. If you would still like a copy of GRIFFIN FARM, go here. If you would like a copy of THE HOUSE OF ANCHOR, go here.
Again, thank you for your support, and I hope you like the photo above. Working on a bunch of new work, including Book #3, so stay tuned. :)
In the meantime, I'm going to start blogging like mad, so please feel free to check out this site daily. The main page is here. Yes, you can add it to your favorites. Just click the link, and you'll find my daily ramblings -- poetry, fiction, essays, photography. Easy! Yes! 👍👏😊😊💗
Or, for those who are feeling adventurous, you can subscribe to the blog, and it'll get sent to your email. Rad. Or, you can check it out through Google+. Many options.🏃🎈🐘🐘
Don't miss out! Some wild stories and scenes up ahead!
Peace and love to you,
C.A. MacConnell
C.A. MacConnell
4/27/2018
Self-Checkout
We'll call her Beth. She works at the self-checkout at the grocery. You know, she's one of those workers who has three people tugging on her shirt at once -- a lady with coupons, a man who wants smokes, and a confused teen who can't get the machine to take her sad, wrinkled dollar. Beth is there to come to the rescue every time. She has short, greyish hair, a thick build, and her face is rather...well...easy; that is, she's easily approachable, easy to talk to, easy in general. Easy. Nothing intimidating about her in the least. Although I bet she could take someone out in roller derby. She has that "I used to skate" or "I'd like to skate" vibe.
Well, one afternoon not long ago, I was checking out, when I looked over at Beth, and she just didn't seem herself. "How are you?" I asked her. I scanned items, dropped them on in the bags. Quickly, I might add. A master.
"Just trying to get through the day," Beth muttered.
"Man, bad day?" I asked her. Beep, beep, bag. Like Flash.
"My husband died this past week," she answered. "I can barely work."
"Didn't they give you time off?" I asked.
"A few days," she answered, sniffling.
"I'm so sorry," I said to her. And after I finished bagging my groceries, instead of leaving the store, I headed over to the flower section, and I bought a yellow bouquet. Nothing big or fancy, but cheery, no dead leaves. Then I headed back to the self checkout and looked for Beth.
When Beth saw me return, she looked confused. Then her eyes widened in that look of, How can I help you.
I held the flowers out to her. "No, I don't need help. These are for you."
Her face brightened, and I gave her a hug. Now, this was big for me. I'm not the hugging type at all, especially with strangers. But I did it, and then I left, feeling good about being good and such. Why not. The sun was out, and I had my burritos.
Well...
About a week later, I was at the same grocery, in the same self-checkout. And there was Beth, looking easy.
I glanced over at her and said, "How are you doing?"
"Great!" she replied, smiling.
"Good," I said. "And you're not missing your husband?"
"Who?" she asked me. Literally, she had no idea what I was talking about. I dug deeper, but still, she seemed dumbfounded. She said she was going on a trip with girlfriends soon. No one died.
And then I bagged my groceries and walked out the door, realizing this: perhaps I'd been scammed. Okay, not perhaps...definitely. She'd made up the story for attention and sympathy? Probably. Because she had no idea what I was talking about one week later. She didn't even have a husband, it seemed.
I guess I should've been disappointed in humanity, I'm not sure. But then I thought...maybe I needed to hug a stranger, to do something good, regardless. Maybe it was me who needed the help that day after all. Indeed, overall, scam or not, I still won.
Well, with that cutthroat mind, Beth would've kicked my ass in roller derby.
C.A. MacConnell
Well, one afternoon not long ago, I was checking out, when I looked over at Beth, and she just didn't seem herself. "How are you?" I asked her. I scanned items, dropped them on in the bags. Quickly, I might add. A master.
"Just trying to get through the day," Beth muttered.
"Man, bad day?" I asked her. Beep, beep, bag. Like Flash.
"My husband died this past week," she answered. "I can barely work."
"Didn't they give you time off?" I asked.
"A few days," she answered, sniffling.
"I'm so sorry," I said to her. And after I finished bagging my groceries, instead of leaving the store, I headed over to the flower section, and I bought a yellow bouquet. Nothing big or fancy, but cheery, no dead leaves. Then I headed back to the self checkout and looked for Beth.
When Beth saw me return, she looked confused. Then her eyes widened in that look of, How can I help you.
I held the flowers out to her. "No, I don't need help. These are for you."
Her face brightened, and I gave her a hug. Now, this was big for me. I'm not the hugging type at all, especially with strangers. But I did it, and then I left, feeling good about being good and such. Why not. The sun was out, and I had my burritos.
Well...
About a week later, I was at the same grocery, in the same self-checkout. And there was Beth, looking easy.
I glanced over at her and said, "How are you doing?"
"Great!" she replied, smiling.
"Good," I said. "And you're not missing your husband?"
"Who?" she asked me. Literally, she had no idea what I was talking about. I dug deeper, but still, she seemed dumbfounded. She said she was going on a trip with girlfriends soon. No one died.
And then I bagged my groceries and walked out the door, realizing this: perhaps I'd been scammed. Okay, not perhaps...definitely. She'd made up the story for attention and sympathy? Probably. Because she had no idea what I was talking about one week later. She didn't even have a husband, it seemed.
I guess I should've been disappointed in humanity, I'm not sure. But then I thought...maybe I needed to hug a stranger, to do something good, regardless. Maybe it was me who needed the help that day after all. Indeed, overall, scam or not, I still won.
Well, with that cutthroat mind, Beth would've kicked my ass in roller derby.
C.A. MacConnell
4/18/2018
Photo: Man on Steps
Man on Steps
New Orleans, LA
One of my favorite shots I've taken. Hope you like it. If you'd like to see more of my photos, click on the "Photography" Link under Labels. Or, the direct link is here. Rad. Peace out,
C.A. MacConnell
4/17/2018
We Were Going Up
A while back, I was in the elevator at a clinic, and there was this dark-haired kid who soon joined me. He was in a wheel chair, and his mom was pushing him, tucking him into the last empty space in the back. She seemed nervous about brushing against people. Well, everyone was edgy as hell. Isn't that always true about elevators? There's some kind of unspoken "Don't touch me or I'll kill you" rule.
So the elevator was packed, which always makes me nervous, because I, for one, hate the idea of brushing up against someone. Man. It's not really the actual touch that's bad -- it's the anticipation of the possible touch that's bad. The terrible wait for the inevitable accidental shirt sleeve hitting my coat. Shiver.
Anyway, we were going up. Well, we were supposed to be. See, right after we were all set, and all of our correct buttons had been pressed by Suit Man, and we were packed in there like candy in a dish, this blond lady squished her body inside and yelled, "Can you press 'floor one' for me?"
Suit Man growled and pressed the button for her.
With that, the kid in the wheel chair shrugged, looked at Blond Lady right in the eye and said, "Fuck you." Then he started cracking up.
I laughed too. Shit, we all wanted to say it. He was just the only one brave enough to bust out with the choice words. We were jam packed, someone smelled like ass, the weather had been horrible, and for sure, no one was visiting the clinic for any reason that was remotely enjoyable, and here was this woman squeezing her ass on our ride, looking to go down, when we were going up. So yeah, we all wanted to say it.
The kid looked at her and said it again. "Fuck you." Then he really started howling.
I did too. My nose started running. I looked around. A few others had some muffled chuckles going on, but the kid and I were really letting loose.
Then the kid's mom said to him, "Stop it. That's not nice."
From his wheelchair, the kid shrugged again and stared up at me, beaming.
I held up my thumb at him, beaming back at my partner in crime.
When we finally made it to our floor, number four, the kid and I slid on into the waiting room at the same time.
Then I saw the back of his head. A thin scar, a bald patch, stretched from the crown of his head all the way to his neck. Either brain surgery or trauma, I wasn't sure. But what struck me was that there we were, seeing docs for whatever random issues (and obviously he had some serious issues going on), but in that moment in the elevator, none of the physical bullshit really mattered. Our separate lives didn't matter. Our separate problems didn't matter. What mattered was one brave jokester (ironically, the most physically impaired one there), and one shared laugh. Perhaps our laugh was at Blond Lady's expense but hell, sister, we were going up.
When I feel my gut, my heart, my soul tell me what's right, regardless of the crowd, I gotta leave a few behind, join people like this kid, and head for the laughter and the light. See, I want to live my life fully, love, and focus on my dreams, not stay stuck in my head. Change is all around me. Onward and upward,
C.A. MacConnell
So the elevator was packed, which always makes me nervous, because I, for one, hate the idea of brushing up against someone. Man. It's not really the actual touch that's bad -- it's the anticipation of the possible touch that's bad. The terrible wait for the inevitable accidental shirt sleeve hitting my coat. Shiver.
Anyway, we were going up. Well, we were supposed to be. See, right after we were all set, and all of our correct buttons had been pressed by Suit Man, and we were packed in there like candy in a dish, this blond lady squished her body inside and yelled, "Can you press 'floor one' for me?"
Suit Man growled and pressed the button for her.
With that, the kid in the wheel chair shrugged, looked at Blond Lady right in the eye and said, "Fuck you." Then he started cracking up.
I laughed too. Shit, we all wanted to say it. He was just the only one brave enough to bust out with the choice words. We were jam packed, someone smelled like ass, the weather had been horrible, and for sure, no one was visiting the clinic for any reason that was remotely enjoyable, and here was this woman squeezing her ass on our ride, looking to go down, when we were going up. So yeah, we all wanted to say it.
The kid looked at her and said it again. "Fuck you." Then he really started howling.
I did too. My nose started running. I looked around. A few others had some muffled chuckles going on, but the kid and I were really letting loose.
Then the kid's mom said to him, "Stop it. That's not nice."
From his wheelchair, the kid shrugged again and stared up at me, beaming.
I held up my thumb at him, beaming back at my partner in crime.
When we finally made it to our floor, number four, the kid and I slid on into the waiting room at the same time.
Then I saw the back of his head. A thin scar, a bald patch, stretched from the crown of his head all the way to his neck. Either brain surgery or trauma, I wasn't sure. But what struck me was that there we were, seeing docs for whatever random issues (and obviously he had some serious issues going on), but in that moment in the elevator, none of the physical bullshit really mattered. Our separate lives didn't matter. Our separate problems didn't matter. What mattered was one brave jokester (ironically, the most physically impaired one there), and one shared laugh. Perhaps our laugh was at Blond Lady's expense but hell, sister, we were going up.
When I feel my gut, my heart, my soul tell me what's right, regardless of the crowd, I gotta leave a few behind, join people like this kid, and head for the laughter and the light. See, I want to live my life fully, love, and focus on my dreams, not stay stuck in my head. Change is all around me. Onward and upward,
C.A. MacConnell
4/15/2018
Open House
I think you would
like this place.
Shower water turns cold to shock.
Think short, kid fingers
burning in the snow.
I slip into my blue jacket.
I lace up my combat boots.
Outside, some windows slide open,
and the rest resting slam
shut. Somewhere, sweat
darkens a neck. Others
surely shiver home, straight
into the vein. Scattered in the square,
sleeping on benches,
tattooed girls cross and uncross,
pulling at wide-stretched
ears, twitching and laughing
near lonely, old men. Late skater boys
fuck, snake, paint, relate.
One of them, the smallest,
a half-finished painting…
well, he looks like you –
gaunt and buried within a yellowish glow
of lamp. I want to walk
with you. I want to step
on the heels of your shoes.
Alone feels right in this artist
light. Muted, a heavy makeup, it hides
the deepest flaws.
A splinter breaks free.
Now it’s caught in my curls,
and love is the man
who finally pries it loose. Well, now I am
almost inside. I feel almost
pretty. I think you would
like this place.
C.A. MacConnell
like this place.
Shower water turns cold to shock.
Think short, kid fingers
burning in the snow.
I slip into my blue jacket.
I lace up my combat boots.
Outside, some windows slide open,
and the rest resting slam
shut. Somewhere, sweat
darkens a neck. Others
surely shiver home, straight
into the vein. Scattered in the square,
sleeping on benches,
tattooed girls cross and uncross,
pulling at wide-stretched
ears, twitching and laughing
near lonely, old men. Late skater boys
fuck, snake, paint, relate.
One of them, the smallest,
a half-finished painting…
well, he looks like you –
gaunt and buried within a yellowish glow
of lamp. I want to walk
with you. I want to step
on the heels of your shoes.
Alone feels right in this artist
light. Muted, a heavy makeup, it hides
the deepest flaws.
A splinter breaks free.
Now it’s caught in my curls,
and love is the man
who finally pries it loose. Well, now I am
almost inside. I feel almost
pretty. I think you would
like this place.
C.A. MacConnell
4/10/2018
4/07/2018
Hello, Plans, Plans.
Well, I've decided to forge ahead with Book Three. Gonna do some hardcore editing, and then I'll put it out there. Stay tuned for updates and more details! Exciting!!!!!
Why not. Because dreams need to become real, in my book.
I hope you are well and happy. I feel sleepy, but so peaceful.
Hey, always remember, sometimes critics don't understand feeling. I get it. My readers get it. And that's who I'm writing for...the ones who get it. (A little tear here).
When you're walking today, or when you're listening to a new song, or when you have a break, shut your eyes for a moment...feel it deep inside.
Why not. Because someone, out there, is trying to connect with you, and that is beautiful. Maybe it's your mom, or your best friend, or some kid you haven't seen in twenty years. Maybe it's someone you saw in the grocery when you were sixteen, or twenty, or thirty.
In these deep moments, I get you, <3
C.A. MacConnell
