I found a Random Word Generator online that spit out eight words for me to choose from in my Ten-Minute Spill. It gave me
hat
cooling
classic
jived
avast
spitefully
motel
thwart
Fine Kettle
Avast! That’s a fine kettle of kale,
she jived, tipping her hat with a wink.
It’s a classic twist on an old saw,
an artful attempt at redirection.
You’ve no idea–
absolutely no idea–
how I have worked to thwart
your bumbling good intentions,
she added spitefully.
And now–
where have you gotten us?
Here in this kettle of kale,
this stew. This mess of fish,
if you will.
Work your way out, if you can,
with your words–
forkful by forkful.
Add sea salt and sesame oil.
Braise until bright green.
And here’s a poem from 1997-1998, the first time I ran across this prompt:
Chasing Chickens
I’ve counted my chickens.
A dozen times or more they’ve dashed–
Dashed, I tell you–
Into blackberry canes,
Wings whirring.
White clouds of dust engulf me.
Their voices chuckle
from the cliff’s edge.
Don’t tell me about chickens.
I’m green, baby. Green.
And I don’t know how
I’m getting home from here.
Prompt for Tomorrow
I am feeling like my poems this round are fluffier and more slapdash than the batch I worked in November. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been sick. Perhaps it’s because the prompts were from outside myself. Perhaps. . . Anyway, I am going to try a glosa tomorrow. Here are the rules, if you choose to play with me: Choose four consecutive lines of poetry and use that as the epigraph of your poem, crediting the poet. Then write four 10-line stanzas of poetry. The four lines of the epigraph provide the final lines of the stanzas of the poems, consecutively. And the 6th, 9th, and 10th lines of each stanza rhyme. Here is my example from November: Song for a Change of Heart. It’s not nearly as difficult as it first appears. If you’re intrigued, give it a try!
Gratitude List:
1. Gratitude Lists, to keep me working and processing even when I am tired and cranky.
2. Clean laundry
3. The NYT Sunday Crossword is back in the paper this week.
4. Chapstick
5. Anticipating busting this cabin fever tomorrow.
May we walk in beauty.
Mockingbird Chronicles 
How To Get Through Another Crisis
“It never comes in small packages,
only in bulk, like tea or heartbreak—
and it is as tenacious as a crow
circling the pinnacle of your life.”
-Felicia Mitchell, from the poem Loose Strife
It’s not enough to know what to expect
or even not to know what can’t be known.
Refusal to plan is one tactic,
or over-planning, making sure
each moment is accounted for, staying busy,
keeping all the rest tied up in laughter’s
fragile lists, smiling when you think
you cannot smile, but you can, oh, you can
—especially with other’s backing—
it never comes in small packages
when you’re undermining grief.
Dig in, dig up, look at all the little birds
that peck around the cargo of your years.
Carry a shovel to pound the frozen ground,
hammer at the ice, the dormant roots
surrounding all your effort, the ache
of blisters forming on your palm
a relief of sorts, forcing you to rest.
Time can be more than difficult to make
and only comes in bulk, like tea or heartbreak.
Sit in the middle, remember how to yearn.
That’s not a hole you dug, just broken ground.
Sleep when you can sleep, your dreams
will give you cautious consciousness
but cannot be translated when you wake.
Walk down the stairs, do what you know—
a handful of leaves, hot water, sugar, milk
will warm your belly, ease your throat
but will not get to what’s below
and it’s as tenacious as a crow
landing in the middle of your work.
It flies up to the tree but circles back,
guttural cries and sleek black feathers
speaking another language you must learn
to translate, someday, but not now.
You hear the shovel, grip the knife,
twist it in the gut of all you dream
you could have done. The blood
will saturate the wings of strife
circling the pinnacle of your life.
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As always, wonderful. You started with such an evocative piece, too. “Tenacious as a crow.” And “cautious consciousness.” Perfect.
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I love this prompt.
I’m in.
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