Put a bit of metadata
in a little metatag.
Then the automatic tagger
puts your bit of metadata
in a better metatag.
Metatagger, metadater
metabigger, metabag
metadagger, metabragger
metabugger, metanag.
—–
Rachel McAlpine
Phone poems
Missing HTML page title
O total Untitled,
would I had time.
O tragic Untitled,
you won’t make a dime.
O tacky Untitled,
why underline
your bright blue crime?
—–
Rachel McAlpine
Meet the spammers
Subliminal itch or apron
on the clean-cut kid next door.
Today’s extreme identities
from the bank of spam:
Martina Manning
Millard Miner
Millie Maudie
Nicky Nelson
Quinn Wilcox
Sherry Schulz
Solemner G. Subcutaneous
and Wendel Kovalchak.
I am not making this up.
Shall I invite them to tea?
——
Rachel McAlpine
Just add water
And a blog is a coat
of many pockets,
a continent
of join the dots,
a magic painting
wanting only water.
My father’s blog
In my father’s blog
are many mansions.
A blog is content
in a room full of cells.
A blog is ever empty
and willing to be filled.
A blog is not lost
and may never be found.
– – –
Rachel McAlpine
Poems in the cloud
Blog poems rise
like steam from a heated heart.
Ghost poems floating
like bubbles from a spring,
one long knotted rope
of cirrhus scarves.
Drifty. Cloudy. Quickly
off the screen.
Speak softly
Speak softly
to the newly wed,
the dearly dead.
Speak loudly
to your Uncle Fred.
– – –
Rachel McAlpine
Senior poems in an ebook
Do you get sick and tired of being drip-fed poems, one per day? Would you like to have a bunch on a single theme so you can pace yourself?
That’s easily fixed. Go straight to Amazon and get yourself all my Senior Poems in one ebook. You’ve read some of them here. You know they’re kind of fun and sometimes even wise. (Not sure how that happens, but the Muse works in mysterious ways.)
Buy Senior Poems on Kindle for a ridiculously small price
In my skull
My skull is an occupied
sofa. When someone
makes a home in your head—
no room for poems.
– – – –
Rachel McAlpine
Comfort noise
After you hang up
your obsolete handpiece
after you go,
comfort noise
swells through the holes.
– – –
Rachel McAlpine
Poems in the wild—Rachel McAlpine 