“Winter Wonderland” by Terry Redlin
This image sits on the shelf of my bedroom closet where I see it every morning and remember…
Other than this greeting card, I was unaware of Mr Redlin’s expansive body of work or that- “During the 1990s he was frequently named “America’s most popular artist” in annual gallery surveys conducted by U.S. Art magazine.”
Today while writing this homage, I was moved to write Mr. Redlin to thank him. I learned he passed away in 2016.
very excited to have my poem, the pegasus clock in ICU15, appear in this excellent zine!
while you’re there check out fellow poet, Robert Okaji’s prize winning piece, A Further Response from the Hornet’s Nest
The Pegasus Clock in ICU15
such ridiculous tools. as if words could fix a bleeding brain.
preordained fabric dividers meant to separate us if you die.
divert eyes staring at the clock. remember I’d told you the
stories. oversized book. water-washed illustrations. pegasus,
my benevolent savior. the man in golden sandals flies me away.
clouds disconnect from bleached cotton and plastic pillows
sweating the sick. sister mary sometimes foiled my library day
with the winged horse. give someone else a turn annmarie. you
can’t take the book every thursday. blinded by Christian light she
couldn’t comprehend pegasus and me needling defeat between
fetlock and toe. so much tubing here. how many times might it
circle the world? fall risk wrapped around your wrist. i remember
periwinkle choir robes. living angel singing out with bright lips.
mom, please wake up. Use your words. Use your voice. the
pegasus clock in ICU15 stammers. his magnificent wings
unfurl. shimmering feathers brush away these hideous blinking
lights and institutional grey floors. fly it all away.
This piece is based on the night my father passed away. I can’t believe it will be a year this November since he left us. On the night of my dad’s death, all emergency responders were nothing short of amazing🌹
Unwarm
was it your choice
choosing sleep to die in
I watched them
watched them dad
in your mint bedroom
trying to make your chest say something
while your mouth was bound with elastic
and a pump shoved down your throat
screaming in my head
PLEASE stop
he’s gone
leave him be
it goes on like this for an hour
or nearly so
not pronounced dead
until the white sheet
in the emergency room
was that for us
was that for you
maybe for them
still unsure
I kissed your cheek
not entirely unwarm
you look good dad
not dead
not cold
just quiet
She recently had a flash story, “What I Really Meant,” published in the very cool HOOT Review(April-May 2018). 
She was so very generous in choosing a figure of mine for her excellent flash story.
This piece inspired by my face, currently a disaster of stress rash. Apparently, holding back, in an attempt to be monstrously strong, isn’t good for you. I can now use my face like a 70’s mood ring. Never believed I was vain, but lately I’m hiding in the shadows along with my creatures.
After experiencing several monster-sized issues, my eBook is now available. Truth be told, post-problems it was ready in late January, but at the time, I had not the heart to promote it. So without further ado – some new illustrations and a new poem too – love of the monster – is yours for the downloading (oh and a tiny $2.99)
here’s to entering 2018 with eyes open
When I think of my children going into the world, I find myself championing humanity. I pray we never cease believing this: we are so much stronger than these acts of violence that steal innocent life and try to rip away our collective compassion for one another
anntogether 