Diane Griffin

Head in hands
It’s so comforting
The darkness
The warm skin
Hold the cracked thing together
While I write poems.

–7/11/25

I’ve noticed
When some celeb dies
I first think,
“Another
“One who’s managed to escape
“These terrible times.”

–7/24/25

These strings are
D’addarios.
They’re pulled tight
They shine bright
Stretch from the bridge to the nut
Sing sweet when they’re struck.

–7/10/25

America
Has swollen ankles.
Orange bronzer
Covers sins
No unblended foundation
Can ever deny.

–7/18/25

Ten More American Sentences

Read at the Sunday Word Open Mic, 7/6/25

Six black vans. Two cop cars. A school bus with blacked out windows. Ice convoy.

Mar-A-Lago Alcatraz. Leave the alligators out of this mess.

Shadow on my soul. Fear I’ll die under torture by the government.

I wake in the night thinking of Montreal. Mornings I wake up at home.

Took the garbage out this morning. The local systems are still working.

Local systems are best. You only drop bunker busters on strangers.

Gil Scott-Heron said, “The Revolution will not be televised.” Hi.

No matter what, we must keep fighting. You and I can beat back the fash.

Saw you in the Square that fine day, screaming about a revolution.

Two Trumpers and a thousand screaming, dancing, feisty lefties. Winning.