Photo: Barn Aisle

 

C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Duck Pond.

  

C.A. MacConnell

Baby, Walk Right

Again, September wind rushes in,
carrying the sound

of red-tailed hawks,
and I'm surrounded

by the screech of it.
Look, the wings always

come back. Inside, they know.
No one ever reminds them

that it's their season.
Here, the fields are wild,

too-tall, and narrowly fenced-in;
some blades nearly touch

my thigh. Like prairie grass,
loose, calm waves sway yellow,

here and there singed
from another changed summer,

and outside every day,
but for the few fly nets,

these horses are naked.
First, I am muscle and manic

with the new, a baby
trying to prove myself.

We ache, made of bones
and skin, like them.

You and I live
for the strange, big eye,

the flight, the fresh-cut hay,
the hidden music

within animal silence,
and the clapping laughter

of the crowd.
Sometimes I get this life;

it makes sense to clean, feed,
sweat through the jeans,

and keep the blood
close to the heart.

It makes sense
to walk right

when leading the barefoot Paint
to the pasture,

making sure his hooves
strike the grass path,

rather than the gravel one,
because I see him squint,

and I know the journey must sting
without shoes.

C.A. MacConnell 

Photo: Bridge to Center

  

C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Lunken

  

C.A. MacConnell

A Good Hand.

She’s not playing any

War.

Maybe some stray cats suck cigars.
They like to bet.
They like to watch.
Others play poker in the
Basement.

She returns for

More.

Maybe some like to
Fish.
Maybe by the river, an all-day game
With the packed cooler,
And the bait,
And the hook.

Always, she wishes for a good

Hand.

She can’t live

With the broken zipper.
The only fix
Is the face, and some kind of

Reality, like blue
Eyeshadow.

-- C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Untitled.

 

C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Wolf

  

C.A. MacConnell

Being True: Hit or Miss

 

Being True: Hit or Miss

The other day at this park, a tiny little girl practiced her batting skills. She couldn't have been more than four years old. Holding that bat, she pursed her lips in utter determination, and this kid was damn good. She only missed when her Dad threw a bad pitch, but even if it wasn't her fault, she still furiously dug her Velcro tennis shoe into the pale dirt when she thought she had "messed up." She didn't cry. Oh no, she grinned, stomped, planted her feet back into position, and waited for the next softball, which was almost as big as her little head.

Next came her older sister's turn at bat. Taller, lankier, and seemingly easily distracted, older sis missed almost every pitch. Air, whiff, foul, she didn't care at all. Her Dad laughed and told her to keep trying, and she did, but she kept right on missing. Big sis seemed much more concerned with fixing the tongue on her cool sneakers. When Dad threw another pitch, big sis reached to pet the dog. The obvious differences between the two girls was amusing.

But the scene was fascinating -- even when the older one repeatedly missed, they all cheered. And when the younger one killed that ball, they cheered her on too. There was no difference in the way that the parents reacted to the girls. Swing and hit, roar of applause. Swing and miss, roar of applause. Seemed that they were honestly thrilled to be hanging out together, enjoying the sun, and playing in the moment. What mattered to them was not the perfect pitch, the grand slam, the win, or even the game at all. What mattered was the support, the camaraderie, and the present time together.

To me, they showed a unique, rare display of true love; that is, they were encouraging each other to be their true selves, rather than putting "conditions" on love. Awesome. I wanted to join in and cheer for all of them. What it said to me: hit or miss, I love you. Animals love this way. Animals love us this way. They are speaking to us all.

C.A. MacConnell

Love Poem

I need a guitar,
and a new tattoo.
I need a dollar
to buy a lotto ticket.
Winner winner chicken dinner.
I need a woman
to show me how to heal.
I need a man
with a tattered jacket,
and a trick up his sleeve.
I need a black Camaro
with Kentucky plates,
and a rooster, a dog, and a glove.
I need a mailbox that leans,
and a doctor
who knows how to fuck.
If I could go back,
I'd take up the drums,
just for the muscle.
I need a mighty voice, a piano,
and a damn safe spork.
I need a shovel, a white room,
a backpack,
and some noise.
I need new employment
in the sky.
My eye is twitching.
My ears are ringing.
My ears are burning.
My eyes are burning.
There is one person
I'd like to mention.

C.A. MacConnell

Photo, and a Note to You.

 

Hey there. So how's about that film The King of Staten Island. I dug it...such a creative story, and I was enamored with Pete Davidson and Bel Powley, although everyone was great in it, for sure. Thank you for sharing your art! I really enjoyed it.

So I'm working on fine-tuning 335 pages...Book Four. It does have a title, but it's a secret! 

I'm loving it. 

I can't wait to release it. 

Pretty soon, I'll be hitting up agents, so we'll see. Wish me luck! It's an addictive story. :)

Hope you're well and happy. I've been trying to stay focused and not let my demons get the better of me, which can be a bear. I know I'm not alone here, ha. Sending love to you,

C.A. MacConnell

Photo: J.P.

 

C.A. MacConnell

Seat Belt

I never wear a seat belt.
Your voice. When I listen,

I imagine the throat of it,
the slide, the wishing well.

Some come from the gut.
Sound fills me, and I never

look both ways. Beyond
the words, I see myself

in a red, deserted place
where my figure is fine,

and my face is porcelain,
and I am barely twenty-two,

driving alone, tearing
across Wyoming, looking

for horse plates. I am
friendly with your dust.

Then the sunset road
stretches out before me

like a pale, lined tongue.
Let me follow the limit.

Let me sing on the end.
I am in love with the lip.

C.A. MacConnell

Book Four Update.

 

This is what I'm doing tonight! Total couch potato action. Whew.

Hey, I have 330 solid pages for Book Four, and it really looks like a book now, the real thing. I just finished another read-through, and I got to the end, and I had chills, which is always a good sign. 

It's good, really good.

Have to add a little touch to the mid section, but I'm more than on the way now.

:)

Can't wait for you to read it. I've been working so hard. Yes.

<3

C.A. MacConnell

P.S. My first three books are available on Amazon. Search:  C.A. MacConnell

Thank you!