Tongue Twister

It was the worst, most torturous tongue twister. They were selling it for $19.95 plus shipping and handling- but if I acted NOW!, I could double my order for the same low, low price. It was the latest device paraded at 3am before the drunk or the unemployed or the 3rd shifters with the night off. It was a steel spring clamp with the color of your choice vinyl handles for a non-slip grip. It could even withstand your saliva. They claimed that elongation exercises of the tongue improved ones appearance, health, ability to speak, bad breath, headaches, and of course made you irresistible to anyone who wanted to have sex with you. Of course, trying to get sex from those who want sex with you anyway is no real challenge but tongue elongation by way of this device, the ‘Tongue Twister’, apparently couldn’t hurt. Continue reading “Tongue Twister”

Summer Wind

Early summer
Not too hot
Strong breeze
From the south
Crosses the wide river

Through the trees
Into the window
Billowing curtains
Dancing shadows
Beige pill carpet

Wind on water
Wind swept leaves
Shimmering cacophony
Natural windchimes
Rush

Liquid against liquid
Liquid against life
Life must bend
Or break and snap
Against the invisible

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, February 2017

Corner Café

I

It was a small, tickling idea in the back of her mind. It was a dream so close to her heart she never noticed it clinging there. It just moved with her through the day, through the years of working in various restaurants. She’d put in her time until she could no longer stand the management, then move on to another place. She was making money. She was trading a service, relaxation to others for their dollars, a paid ‘mother’ to businessmen or first dates or families with a bunch of kids needing a break.


II

The green leatherette booths that lined the café had thousands of people occupy them over the years, thousands of conversations about misinformed current affairs, what homework was due tomorrow, which bitch he was fucking now. Thousands of people from every station of life. Donny Osmond ate here once, a little reflected glory, a story, something to talk about when the conversation about the weather was exhausted and the people didn’t enjoy enough of the same television programs to share their exasperation over the most recent plot developments.


Continue reading “Corner Café”

Ghost Inside

You can’t look away
What is that?
A search for bad intent
An attempt to read my thoughts
A calculation of who I am
In relation to who you are

The ghost inside is often hidden
Most people seem to wish
Their light inside would die
Or they let it die
Or allow someone else to kill it
As if that final resignation brings peace

A deaf man told me once
I am impossible to read
But the staring into the eyes
It is a little strange
You simply have my attention
There is no ill intent here Continue reading “Ghost Inside”

Philosophic Tragedy

Time flows in one direction
It cannot be stopped
It cannot be reversed
You decide to stop resisting
To be happy
Or at least at peace
Having known so little peace
So what then when
Something you want
Someone you need appears
Do you move toward them
Do you wait for them
To move toward you
What if you both float
Stare at each other
Wait for the other to speak
Unable, unwilling, afraid
Opportunity to love
To be loved, lost
To some idea that fighting
For what really matters
Doesn’t matter in the end

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, March 2017

Something Worth Letting Go

“How can you stand to lose it all?”
That is the refrain on repeat
As if clothing and the coffee maker
Had some deep meaning
Deserved my grief

I suppose it is the fruits of my labor
But fruit rots
Like my body
Like flowers on graves
For those I love

Time is slipping away
Always passing
All that stuff is just shit
All that money is just green paper

I know too life without green paper
It is so mean it drives us to spend
One third our lives in its pursuit

But my dresser did not hug me
My shoes did not comfort me

When it all became too much
When life’s edges tore at me
Made me ragged
Beyond my ability
To bear my grief

It is all ash now
Blowing in the winds

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, January 2015

12th Month

Light from the full moon reflects blue off the crystalline ground.
In the distance, I see black soiled hillsides where
Construction has ripped the trees from the ground

Leaving the woodland creatures to find homes elsewhere
In our white dusted trees, in the forests to the west
I walk up the hill through the drifts and pass the last in a line
Homes that glow warmly from the strings of carefully placed lights

There in soft cold air stands a stag, statuesque, and unreal
As I stop, we assess each other for a few moments

Why should this majestic beast bearing
A full rack of horns ever fear me
So weak and slow by his comparison

As I continue on, his tail raises its warning flag
He leaps through the yards
Through what is left of his former forest home

I am left alone in the night
My hot breath billowing white clouds around me

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, December 2003