Post Press Hangover


Greetings to my new followers, all 800+ of you! Since being Freshly Pressed, I feel like I’ve been riding The Great Wave off Kanagawa.

I ate Spam for breakfast, and I’ve kicked some cans to the curb, but I’ve done my best to respond to comments and messages. The best way to say hello is to join in the discussion in the comment section.

I’m grateful to WordPress editors and thankful for new fans. I’m especially thankful for my pre-press friends. I promise to present several new poems each month, while I juggle my Anthropology studies. The tide will come and go, the Poet will not.

The Gunslinger journeys to ascetic elevations…

Expect some changes to this website, as well as surprises for poetry month in April. I hope you’re not disappointed when I post some poetry!

Yours, C.L. Quigley

Somebody Had to Tell Me

C.L. Quigley:

Poet and essayist Margaret Elysia Garcia hails from southern California to the northern Sierra Nevada. I wouldn’t challenge this woman to a duel. Her written words are raw, and she aims straight for the heart.

Originally posted on Tales of a Sierra Madre:

Somebody had to tell me

I was fat

Somebody had to tell me

I was short

Somebody had to tell me

I was too white to be Mexican

Somebody had to tell me

I was too chingona to be white

Somebody had to tell me

My crooked tooth needed fixing

Somebody had to tell me

My feet were ugly

& my skin was dry

& I take photos cross-eyed

Somebody had to tell me

That don’t look good on you

Somebody had to tell me

That’s too young a look for you

Somebody had to tell me

To feel bad

To be me

To spell it out

They don’t make beautiful in my size

Somebody had to tell me

My arms go red and freckle like salami

Somebody had to tell me that

My breasts were too big

Too indecent

Cover me up

To be respectable

Somebody had to tell…

View original 120 more words

I pledge allegiance

Looking_in_binI pledge allegiance to the flag

outside of your three story house.

Don’t look at the woman hauling trash,

she’s walking three miles south.

Give us this day, our Coke and beer,

so others may redeem five cents.

Along the highway, she hefts her work,

to cash in, but not to pay rent.

© C.L. Quigley

photo: Wikimedia Commons


The Assignment by Dawn Corrigan (I Am Waiting Poetry Series)

C.L. Quigley:

Poetess Dawn Corrigan undresses the truth in “The Assignment,”
published online by Silver Birch Press…

Originally posted on Silver Birch Press:

by Dawn Corrigan

each of us wears a .45
and each of us is supposed
to shoot the other
if the other behaves strangely
we wait for a long time
until I feel itchy all over
is my gun loaded
I want to check
but I worry he’ll think
that’s strange

we haven’t been given
a list of strange
behaviors to look for
so I continue to wait
I begin to wonder
if I’ve gotten mixed up
maybe we’re not supposed
to move at all
maybe we’re supposed
to hold ourselves
perfectly still
like the models in an art class
until we truly believe
we’re made of marble
or oil paint

I’ve never shot a gun
never even held one until now
I grew up in the wild
on a preserve of land
one square mile in area
a white lion named
Kimba lived there
and many other…

View original 256 more words