Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Lightning Bolts and Moonlight

courtesy of Kabachok blog

O I say, these are not the parts and poems of the Body only, but of the Soul,
O I say now these are the Soul!
~Walt Whitman “I Sing the Body Electric”

she is but
a body
of water
waning
waxing
pulsed by the moon’s own
slow and steady
respiration

outlined by human frame
she sits on blue velour
car seats
sewn with silver stars
her celestial throne
behind an idle wheel
traffic stalled

all of these vehicles
separate
on a two lane road
longing
just to move

soft heavy skies
full of river and sea
make a bed
for jagged bolts of
lightning

her motor hums
brake pedal releases
wheels roll
three full
revolutions
stop

above
staticky synapses
fire fleeting fingers
below
Aretha Franklin
sings the body electric
through the car stereo

Dr. Feelgood’s
live
at the Fillmore

hands hold an unmoving wheel
her skin rises to meet
sound
music traces spine
this driver’s form
the conduit
through which
all senses pass

the scent of moist salt air
mixed with exhaust
the crescendo celebration of love
vibrating through
speakers
bouncing on eardrums
rattling her heart
the silver blue
cracking flashes
of illumination
the sweet taste
of a destination
three hundred cars ahead

and the pull

that tidal draw
of a shoreline swoop
the feel of sands sucking
beneath soles
strong and fast
the deepest inhalation

she can dig her heels in
hold tight
or surrender

she is electrified in stalled out traffic
goose bumps and Aretha Franklin
spilling clouds and lunar tides
breathing
with the moon

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 4 Comments

Cherry Bombs and Black Magic

“It’s ok, mom, I’m just trying to teach you something new.”

Jeb walks over to wrap his seven-year old arm around my waist, the basketball tucked beneath his other limb.

I put my hand on top of his blonde head, which is now cresting just beneath my sternum.  “I don’t think I fully get the game, hon.  It’s hard when we don’t have the actual lines here.”

We’re on the street with imaginary boundaries, bouncing the ball between us as Jeb attempts to teach me the game of Foursquare.

He’s a good coach, offering enthusiastic exclamations like, “You’re good!  You’re almost better than me!” at even my most simple passes.  He’s convincing in his encouragement and seems to have become 30 while I’ve regressed to age eight.

There are bounce moves with crafty names:  Typewriter, Cherry Bomb and Black Magic.

I try my hand at several but never find my groove.

As we wrap it up and head back down the road, we walk and pass the ball between us.

“Never give up, mom.  It’s fun when you get the hang of it.  I was just thinking that if you learned a new game that maybe when you were with some guys your age, you could have something you could play together.”

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Best of Luck

When you say you will submit to the submission process, it means you gotta give in all the way.  Surrender to the entire spectrum.  Sometimes things don’t go the way you’d envisioned and that’s just part of the experience.

I read somewhere about a writer that kept a little monument by his desk of all of his “rejection” letters.  They were his trophies, a testament to the process.

So I’ll post here to the world, the evidence of my writer’s journey.  My marker in the road.  I wouldn’t be holding a letter saying ‘thank you and best of luck’ unless I’d taken steps onto the publishing path.  There’s rich value in the act of trying, living fully, taking the chance that I might not “win” or be received.  This aspect of the artist’s path is what inspires me the most.

Ok, maybe I’m trying to put a happy spin on something that simply is a bummer.  Everyone wants the prize (and the grand winner of this contest gets five grand!).  But truthfully, I’m not deterred.  I truly feel the value in the experience of writing.  Feeling.  Creating.  Expressing.  Sharing.  Who knows if anyone ‘gets’ it or even cares.  Yet something compels me.

By submitting, there is a surrender.  A release.  No longer hoarding it in a journal on my shelf, this process completes the circle through the risk of sharing.  My ultimate hope is that it would inspire you to express yourself fully and freely – no matter if your creation were judged to be a winner or a loser.  The winning is in the doing of it!  If there are bonus  perks at the end (being able to afford to travel and write more would be nice) then bring it on.

Until then, I’ve got more submissions circulating and I’ll embrace my ‘best of luck’ letter as a blessing.

So best of luck to every soul that didn’t get what they thought they wanted. And more power to the amazing things that awaited them instead – rewards of which they hadn’t even dreamed.