Heed not Steve

Up To Date, Yes Sir


Check me out, all you HepCats and Chickadees.

My phone’s software is up to date.

Oh yes.

I’m hip.

I’m with it.

I’m on the vanguard.

I’m all


you know



I’m trying to figure it out.

Soon the Moon


a wave goodnight
to the sun


© Steve Mitchell 2014

Not Two Miles Away

I’ve nursed

this beer

for 17 hours

no stink eye


from the bartender

a nice guy

a young guy

with Elvis hair

and hurricane


washes my car

I squint

at the menu

bar food

new wiper blades

in my car

ready to install

Elvis asks a woman

of indeterminate age

if she wants a Scotch

she does but

it’s too expensive

he suggests

a well drink

but four dollars

is also too much

not my problem

the humidity

makes people


I can’t stop

chewing my lip


© Steve Mitchell 2014




Small Company


half a life spent
nipping at my lunch -
damn fruit flies


© Steve Mitchell 2014

In Amber

Armand Armand stretches the goggles away from his forehead and sets them in place over his eyes.  He shakes his head from side to side.  He takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose.  He double checks his harness.

He shouts into the darkness of his lab, “Now, I pierce the membranes of Time!”

With his right hand, Armand Armand grabs and pulls a brass lever.

For a moment, nothing, then a brilliant flash of light.  Fog and noise and light swirl around him.  A vacuum fills the lab.  It pulls Armand Armand’s coat.  It pulls his pants and his boot laces.  The lab goes black.


Atmosphere returns.  It strikes Armand Armand in the chest and face and knocks his goggles loose.

He sits stunned.  He blinks tears and ozone from his eyes.  He squints at the instrument panel and grunts.  The brass lever sits in the up position.

“Well,” he says.  “That was dramatic.  I guess nothing’s damaged.  Umm.  Let’s try this again.”   He scratches his nose and pats his brow until he locates his goggles.  Then

Armand Armand stretches the goggles away from his forehead and sets them in place over his eyes.


© Steve Mitchell 2014


“No, I’m A Frayed Knot”

A string goes into a bar and orders a beer.

The bartender scowls and says, “We don’t serve beer to strings in this bar.”

The sting leaves.

A bar patron watches, then says to the bartender, “That’s too bad. I wanted to see what it looked like – a string drinking a beer.”

“Ahh, it’s a waste of time,” says the bartender. “And, anyhow, strings ain’t got no money.”

“Oh, yeah.”


© Steve Mitchell 2014

Blog Post Schmog Po…Schmost – This Better Not Be a Poem

okay, today,

enough with the noise

you poetry

boys with

your poetry

schmoetry your

flouncy words

prancing like

fancy birds dancing -

I say, I beg,

put your nose

to the prose

and, you…





© Steve Mitchell 2014





I’d wax lyric
oh, blue strutting pigeon, but -
I have no pen


© Steve Mitchell 2014

Maybe More of a Morning Guy


come to think of it -
the sun never really shines
at night


© Steve Mitchell 2014

A Dream About My Family


wild with fire
I turn my eyes before
ritual sleep


© Steve Mitchell 2014


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