available at Amazon.com
RUGS ON PUDDLES COATS OVER OCEANS is a collection of kimann’s original poems and lyric poetry, written over a span of over twenty years, 1991 through 2013. dates of origin of the poems are noted as well as dates or years of edits and rewrites – they are a part of each poem’s autobiographical identity. all lyric poems exist as fully realized songs and have been written and recorded with kimann’s husband and song-writing partner, michael l. schultz
a sampling of the songs can be found at www.LapofaMuse.com, at Amazon.com, at iTunes and on YouTube, search Kimann & Michael Schultz
(April 14, 2021 poem written upon the mass shooting in my hometown last night)
My muse came crawling
Let me have it
I can take it
Say it
What dog-eared journaled pages lie
Supplicant recipients
Of words and songs and thoughts and psalms
And all that might
Remain best or better left unsaid
Say it
Intended for no one
Meant for all
Stories mine
For ends of time
For no one, just the same
Never going
But moving forward backwards forward
My muse whispered to me
I can take it
I understand
Say it
How blessed to be familiar
With what cuts clean and deepest
To shine a light
On all that might
Remain best or better left unsaid
Say it
Lay to paper
Heart and soul
Blood and gore
Tears to flow
Unfettered unchecked unguarded
Re-crafted into scratches
Which lean onto each other
Lined up soldiers
With spaces soldered
Points and hooks and hesitations
Ends to leads and recitations
How good to go with muse unearthed
How sorrowful to slog without, unbirthed
To claim alone
And lay one’s stone
By legacy of unrequited hurt
They just don’t know
Have not been told
Their own, willing muses lurk
But need to be invited in
Open it
Christmas
Easter
Fairy tales
Sunshine
Flowers
Father
Mother
Rest
And sleep
How funny
How ironic
The beauty of this day shines all the brighter
In mortality contrasted
With the midnight baring that happened here, again
Dammit
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Yes, and Nine
I wrote a horror short the other day
As dark as I could make it
I heard the news this morning
I’ve got nothing on this commonplace
Screw it
Words parading as…
Deeds posing as…
Good intentions quick to warp…
Reversed, inverted banners flown
Hanging high and wide
Gathering? No,
They are tearing, weeping, sowing…
And still too few see things for what they are
Fewer yet can
Say it
Mourn the one lost
Mourn the innocent
Equal measure
For they are won
And have been reaped
And have been gathered.
butterflybroth 