“deep south” by L. K. Thayer

hormones a raging
can’t remember what’s up
just that it’s all
breaking down
going deep South
give me a mint julip
make that a double
sit me on a porch swing
but hey,
wait a minute baby
I ain’t ready to go
out to pasture
just yet
you betcha, not yet
stay in check
hold on, suck it in, slurp it down
get it up,
swing it over my shoulder
whatever I gotta do
it ain’t quittin’ time, see
I’m fightin’ false tooth
& hang nail
I don’t wanna give up
just cause gravity
is beatin me down
I will tugboat, this barge
up the river
paddle my
cottage cheese ass
over the falls
adopt a Southern drawl
cause this babe is just startin
to spread her bat wings
different bat time,
different bat station
time to sing,
time to dance,
time to shout
I am not down for the count
you cannot
me the fuck out!
L.K. Thayer
© 2013

“Tarnished” by Shirley Ballard R.I.P. (87 years)

long nails and silver rings

hands that speak a gesture

for words…

silver chains around my neck

with bracelets on my arm

a silver watch that keeps

no time

Shirley Ballard (86 yrs.)

(Miss Calif. 1944)


L. K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish

Thank you for all of your love

and laughter Shirley…I am happy

you are free to party now!

I love you…

your BFF Lisa 🙂

© 2o11

“Where Was I?” by Mark McNease

My train of thought
derailed by something so simple
as the movement of a foot.
Where was I?
Telling you again
I would be there through it all.

I meant it.
I felt it.
I defined it in my actions.
Then a woman stood
to get her laptop from the overhead bin
and I was gone. That quickly.

Where was I
sliding into my 50s, aware now
of the signs, looking for slips
of the tongue, forgotten keys.
We must watch for these things
as decades pass and the time
comes round again where I may wonder
where you are.
Mark McNease

L.K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish

© 2011

“It Doesn’t Make Sense” by Vicki Batkin


So much disparity among us
Not much sense in being tawdry

To me, at least
Ringo turns 70 this week.

I don’t like the art of noise
Nor the openness of silence
I do like the honesty of both
However, it doesn’t take much
To heap a cheap man!

All these thoughts
Jam my brain
How could it make sense
To the common man?
I’d give you the privilege
To walk inside my brain
But I’ll reserve that
For my adoring husband

It’s getting foggy now
It wasn’t when we started
I think I should take a nap
Maybe it’ll stir things up
And land in a dream
How can it be…
Ringo turns 70 this week?

Vicki Batkin

© 2010

“Movie Night” by C. Jean Pearlstein

I hurry from my car to find
My place at the gentrified corner
Restaurant among my sister’s friends
It’s a warm and sunny afternoon
The outdoor umbrellas shield us from
The glare
Cacophonous voices examine in
Detail the parking logistics of
One couple.

One long time friend tries to shush the volume of the elder woman
We are all old, senior citizens
Attending weeknight movie previews
The movie centers on a young
Hawaiian princess of the 19th century
Of her love, and loss
Punctuated by sarcastic whispers
Who forgot what it’s like to
Be young, and juicy, and needy.
“I love all women”, my Sis told me earlier.
I rise and leave the theater
In the dark, while the credits scroll.

C. Jean Pearlstein

L. K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish

© 2010

“The Thief of Time” by Angela Cohan

He smiles his weak smile

As he reclines on his favorite chair

His receding white hair is a symbol of a long life

And every wrinkle on his kind face tells a different story

But at times his memory fails him

He forgets names and dates

Yet he is an eternal optimist

And my favorite person in the world

I sit next to him and stare into his wise brown eyes

“I remember you. You’re my oldest grandchild” he says to me

“Yes grandpa.

Tell the thief of time to stay away from you

Tell it to give us more time together

I want to hear more stories about your life

I long to hear you recount the stories of Moses and Joseph again.

Please stay with me grandpa

Our family will fall apart if you go away

Grandma will fall into a deep despair

and your grandchildren will slowly but surely forget your stories

Grandpa—stay with me.”

It breaks my heart when he asks me:

“Who are you?”

Angela Cohan

Photo by VC Ferry

© 2010

“The Meter Is Running…” by L. K. Thayer

as the hip get hipper
and the lines grow deeper
time creeps closer
down my neck

I haven’t seen Jack
since he fetched
a pail of water
and I keep getting
for someone
to get me

and the clock
keeps tick-talking
and will somebody
call me a taxi
I swear…
the beat of the street
goes on and on
New York
will never
be the same
again right

it’s just wrong

L. K. Thayer

Photo by VC Ferry

All Rights Reserved

© 2009