Tankatrumps and Haikuhats
This timely conversation in haiku and tankesque forms emerged from a class taught by Stephanie Barbe Hammer through the Inlandia Institute. While Lady/Liberty/Lit is dedicated to publishing work by women-identifying writers, we are happy to welcome two male allies in the eleven voices here.
When the women marched
it became fashionable
Wear a pussy hat CLSF
Oh, Cat in the Hat,
Please put on your pussy hat.
Now's the time for that! Get Sally and her
brother, and your big red box.
Thing One, Thing Two rock!
They'd wear pussy hats
While flying kites in the house!
What will mother say? RF
My mother'd say "fine. Still pussy's a prissy word, despite James Bond films;
Cunt's a lot stronger: our best cuss words are Saxon. I've always liked them Vaginas aren't cats. Once ladies _had_ to wear hats. Don't knit me one-- thanks." SBH
Don’t knit me a hat
knit your arms together with mine
Wear all black and we’ll storm the gates KA
sharpen axes like claws
sweet ninja cats
let's climb the walls tonight JCK
My cat has her nerve.
She surreptitiously slips
out the closed screen door
Feigning innocence,
but revealed by the claw marks
she leaves on the screen.
She doesn’t know why
the Coyotes howl at night
But I know it is
For House Cat Tartare JOH
Kitty exhibits
certain kinds of sweetness, then
her gaze: sharp as claws. SC
That's what they want, right?
Kind, sweetness, in a woman,
Not me, I'm salty. MM
Salty like potato chips.
My words make those who indulge flatten their lips into thin lines. I can see the fury inflating
their heads like balloons.
They're ready to fly. MS
Opinions, free press
salt, sour and bitter tasting
because words matter JCK
One day words mattered
alt facts new rule of law
now they don’t KA
“Alt” means “old” auf deutsch.
Our senators look grey, worn;
Most speak a strange tongue: A language of less, no, none.
Still the stock market rises. SBH
Stocks rise like the tide
In surrealist paintings
Like brine in their booze
And sailors squeeze limes
Into their seaweed
Like starfish
Like Man of War, not
The sleek, long-legged beauty.
But the one with the rapturous
Tentacles, the one
that remains, when the poisoned
ocean refuses to ebb
and flow. JOH
He has tentacles
Like an octopus he grabs
All the vaginas If you look closely
His tiny hands have suckers
On each fingertip
Don't let him touch you
His hands may stick to your skin
Also he might kiss you
He can't help himself MM
Trump is not my god.
He won't dictate what kind of
person I will be
There are fights to fight
words to say, marches to march,
but I won't bow down
to any mortal
flawed, imperfect, misled man. SC
An imperfect man
A many fights to fight man
A mislead marcher
With a marchless heart that leads
us to many mortal fights RF
I am caught in the grasp of
greedy octopus
news. Enervated. Stuck Meanwhile, the plumber recites
a poem he wrote
the summer of his divorce
"The Rat and I" - lonely guys
sharing a berry pie NN
combine flour, salt, desire, tears
cut in butter, anger, despair
roll vigorously, until smooth and calm until her smile dissipates, until her face fades,
until her words no longer penetrate the aorta
add berries, sugar, corn starch, irony
bake until pain subsides AS
until the pain subsides
keep moving forward
in a walking meditation like Basho KA
Move forward in light
Unafraid to stand up tall
Never fear the fight MM
Roots grow deep in soil
While branches stretch ever up
The sky is falling CLSF
Poets: Khadija Anderson, Sara Callor, CLS Ferguson, Rich Ferguson, Stephanie Barbe Hammer, Jane O’Shields Hayner, Judy Conibear Kohnen, Mandy Manning, Nancy Norton, Andy Seiple and Melinda Smoot.