Strip Mall Culture #5 ~ @ the Super Mall

Ten Dollar Jeans

Rhinestone Studded Shoes

Two for One Sale

Will make you happy.

Signage, Manikins,

and Knock-Offs

Tell you what to want

And what you’ll

Never obtain.

A ghetto of glitter


To fill your emptiness.

The siren song

Of shopping.




Strip mall culture #3: a love poem

Seeking relief

From the disrespects

Of her grand son,

An old woman stops us

In the grocery.

You will miss each other,

She tells us.

She will miss you.

You will miss him.

When one of you dies.

Its been 2 and a half years

Since she lost her partner

Of over 50 some years

She says.

The young woman with her

Smiles at us sheepishly,

I announce my intention

To refocus on the task

Of selecting crackers for lunch.

And the grandson is quiet

Only briefly.


Strip mall culture #1.

Boyfriend shops.

I wait, writing one-line poems.

Car dependent culture, I cannot escape your grip.

Strip mall neon makes suicide attractive.

A chill so thrill, my bones have left my body.

Without snow, you’d think its spring, but that would be a lie.

And so, we make up words, because life is too short for convention.

b. turner 03/2011


Medusa with your stubborn hair

Turns men to stone

For a crime you didn’t commit

And no one asks you

About your own story

Or what it’s like to live

In the wintery depths

Of earths watery edges.

Medusa with your beautiful, stubborn hair

You live in my belly

Your serpentine locks

Singing the unspoken songs

Of every child who knows

what it is to have those who you love,

those whose job it was to protect,

and instead they turned away.

Medusa, my beautiful sister

With your illuminated tendrils

of underwater fire scapes

They call you a monster,

a demon, a menace.

We will take your anger,

your energy, your power,

Not as a threat but a blessing.

And we will not ask you to die

Neither to bear the burdens of Zeus

Nor for the innocent wishes of little girls

Not yet initiated by the look

Of an elder who knows

His touch will not be punished,

Who knows his choices will change you forever.

Medusa, Medusa

We, your sisters and brothers

Who know that love can live

Beyond the torments of incest,

abuse, and denial,

Most lovely Medusa

Whose beauty surprises us

We will dare to look

And ask

And love.

We who recognize

The truth of your being

In depths of our own psyches,

We will not abandon you.

You are never alone.

b. turner 2011

Deep Blue Cloth

Deep blue cloth

whispers secret things

in undulating

tint, shadow and hue.

Fingers can only reach to caress

what it is for the eye to touch.

Rhythm, and mystery

draw in and bind me

with the threads of your infinity



and promise.

I watch as stars are born inside of you

the universe unfolds

and my awe stands as an offering.

b. turner 2011

Between the Dark Spaces Signs of Spring

Winter beds down

well-fed on the prayers

of thanksgiving.

Rest easy in the demands of the darkness.

The soul needs its sufferings

And its grief.

There is nothing

That does not demand a descent.

Trust in the seeds you are planting.

Allow the divine

To cradle you

In the arms of infinity.

The heart

is the womb

of beauty.

b. turner 2011