Talk English, techie.
I just drive this thing.
Name your home,
but do not name it ‘Home.’
——
Rachel McAlpine
(With apologies to all the brilliant technical professionals who have helped me over the years.)
writing
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
Successful habits of 7 people
Habits not haphazards
are needed
for the next decade.
‘Keep desk tidy’
is not a habit
and you know it.
‘Tidy desk daily’
might help.
– – –
Rachel McAlpine
Stuff in a blog
Let’s not pretend
that stuff in a blog
is poetry.
A blog is a diary
upside down, a silo
where notions wait
for processing
or better times.
Crammed tight
they twitch
in the dark.
They long to sprout
and see the light.
Let’s spill them out
and set them free.
At worst the birds
will feast.
– – –
Rachel McAlpine
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.
For goodness sake
For goodness sake (says Ruby)
I know how to spell AND.
You don’t have to write it
in fancy writing.
For goodness sake,
I know how to spell A.
It’s just one letter.
That’s how we spell it at school.
Marie said, “What’s that tattoo
and can I have one too?”
and I said,
For goodness sake, no!
It’s already ruined.
I washed it and it’s blurry.
For goodness sake,
no!
*
Rachel McAlpine
Poem uttered by Ruby, aged 6
Je ne parle pas français
In the light you were kiss coloured
and you smelled of dog daisies
bitter sweet.
Puppies of cloud tumbled
into the carriage.
In the dusk you were softened
to tabby, your edges fluffy.
You mixed me into the air.
Through the bright window
the sky purred.
In the dark your edges
sharpened, hard bird
with lightning beak:
the moon cut you out of the black.
*
Rachel McAlpine
(Title is same as the short story by Katherine Mansfield that inspired this poem.)
A mind in the night
In a no-paper dream
not a friend
not a team
you watch me ripping
my linen.
I forget your name
so I say ‘mushroom.’
I forget my synonym
for 3 a.m.
*
Rachel McAlpine
Manhood
You were hammered
into a man
when only half grown.
Now the light shines through you.
Hands of glass and bone
hair of silk and sun.
Shiver, man, shiver.
You move like a river.
*
Rachel McAlpine
Poems in the wild—Rachel McAlpine 