Our rights, like the leaves
dragged into a muddy whirlpool.
I can barely see the Statue of Liberty

The Voices

The voices are not in my head.
They are all around me…
circling my being and invading my privacy.
The voices belong to those egotistical maniacs
who wander streets
crowd buses and trains
sit at tables with cups of java and tea
Have you seen/heard them?
They are the ones with those damn cell phones!


That which he intended to throw away
he bestowed as gifts for tax purposes.

An invitation for dinner was really a plan
to rid him of leftovers.

He is only generous with his bitterness,
which is made from the finest of sour grapes and regret.


Janet Cormier is a painter, writes prose and poetry, and performs comedy. JC prefers different and original over pretty. She loves collecting stuff, but cleaning not so much. Janet also talks to strangers… a lot. Her column appears weekly in Oddball Magazine.