Exterminating Angel Press

Creative Solutions for Practical Idealists.

Diana Morley

Inklings.

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by Diana Morley.

 

Wonder bread pulls me back like
a mayo jar taunting of a baloney sandwich
in a lunchbox from my ever-doing mom
providing only the best for us three times a day.

A whiff of cardamom brings my husband
for whom I braided and baked the loaf—
saffron rice for my daughter, whose husband
kneeled to ask for more than her hand.

Free association’s an emancipation
from reason’s interruptions like
sitting on dirt chewing sourgrass or
bobbing up and down, nibbling
an orange popsicle too cold, so sweet.

 

 

Begin again.

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by Diana Morley. Take one. A party— a couple talking cornerwise shading their eyes from the lowering sun, she in a peach sheath he in creased khakis melted sunlight on her dry baguette slice showing the party’s over. Take two. Begin again. Shaman drum slow rising over the mundane while earth’s molten core pulls our […]

A rainbow arcing over.

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by Diana Morley. Just moved in when she knocks on my door. I open it looking above a short older woman with deep red lipstick and dyed hair. She offers a basket of tangerines and a Baby Ruth bar while welcoming me, assuring me she’s available if I need help, or for company at local […]

Saved enough.

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by Diana Morley.   Am I frugal? As in do I not buy lattes wasting my earnings, my savings?  Of course! So frugal I make coffee only once a day, half a scoop, several drops of lowfat milk  so frugal, though widowed, I let only a few tears fall any one day to save some […]

1966, NYC; nothing like it.

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by Diana Morley. Walking down Broadway on a sultry June evening going to an off-Broadway play with a few friends. I wear a long white cotton nightgown with embroidered yellow flowers. We sweep by two guys weaving, waving bagged bottles when one stares at my gown and says, “Oh, I do believe an angel has […]

Wimme Saari, a Finn.

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by Diana Morley. sings indigenous music in no hurry— he begins with silence then opens the door where small cold birds sing along, woke by sound carrying over lakes and land iced over for months a random cracked twig as the bass clarinet feels its way as companion to voice all echoes over land so […]

Since you asked.

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by Diana Morley. what two weeks in a hospital bed was like— my mouth so dry I’m careful— I fear losing tongue cells on opening doc explains, my intestine dry as a Lowe’s outdoor plant—adding too much water at first could simply drown it scooping last bit of ice from a paper cup with a […]

Wildfire!

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by Diana Morley.   Fiery ash squalls around my car, whuffling grass, sizzling waxed paper cups on the road. Yellow-flamed paper curls to black clumps, rises up over the hood. I’m stuck in a long line on Highway 99, windows closed tight against sooty whirlwinds. But as leaves and ashes whip about, smoke slips in. […]

Imprints.

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by Diana Morley. Swearing at the arctic blast fast-freezing my nose to toes— laughing at my old fridge whining pitifully ice cubes clinging together, chilling. Late afternoon still a hard shine on the dark-watered lake frozen overnight hiding life and depths. Backyard snow reflecting sunlight into my home till early evening, the bright white cover […]

We can’t use you.

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by Diana Morley. If you don’t have a degree we can’t use you. Thirty matchbook cover cutouts saved, rubberbanded, over decades. I brought them along to each new house tucked into a box with pencils and stamps till they fell off my desk and the band broke. Yellow-and-black comic-book images show one man talking to […]