Friday, June 1, 2018

Friday 55 June 1 2018

Welcome dear 55ers to another month and another Flash Fiction Friday, which almost didn't happen as I have had recurring connectivity issues in my antiquated DSL. If I am mysteriously absent, it will be due to circumstances beyond my control.

This meme is dedicated to its originator Galen Hayes, remembered with respect and affection for his ability to see the dark laughter under the surface of this life.The blogosphere has changed dramatically since his heyday just a few short years ago, but this meme hasn't--it's still no rules except 55 words of prose or poetry, no more, no less.

So, enough introduction--link your 55 in the comments below between Friday and Saturday at midnight, and let's kick this weekend's ass.

My 55 :

Losing My Grip

Each week the days are
a mangled non-sequitur, a hand's
fingers frankenstein-pieceworked:

Monday a fat woman's thumb
barely able to oppose,
Tuesday's delicate index
astonished by work,

my own
upthrust twig,

Thursday's scarab-claw digit
a pharoanic relict,
Friday a child's pudgy pinkie
short as summer.
How can this hand

at all?

~May 2018

And because I am tired of unadulterated gloom, some Frankenfurterian musical accompaniment:

Images: Illustration © Eko, in The New Republic 
Still,  from Frankenstein (silent movie) 1910    Fair Use


  1. Ha! How can this hand grasp anything indeed- when each digit is so set on its own destiny? Wednesday's twig is just about trying to convince my pinkie for a sleep over. Love the quirky video...not so keen on being sent a 'satanic mechanic'. A delightful write!

  2. And here's my 55:

    1. Thank you Vivian--your link doesn't work for me, so here is another

      I love your wry and real assessment of the bone-breaking heart-attack that is love. So glad you could play this week!

  3. Indeed. And who knew a nursery song could so magically crab the arthritis of the time? Only the count remains, the five infernal houses the work week of the soul must travail through (in the vale which now haunt and houses us, time is forever those five fucking shifts to the weekend). The count here is musical and soft and playful though the images all burn -- balancing first and last two digits with that ungainly, actual middle where we live. ... This is deftly personal and heftily cultural at the same time -- great poetry, H. ... I wonder what has become of hands in the digit-al age, what use they are except to reach too quickly and haul away so fast when the stove burps fire. And heavens, what are we to do with left and right hands, two pairs of fives to 55 another verse honkeytonk in the house of Hedgewitch. Thanks for the reel and here's to the 55 bottles of beer still on the wall of the wail. Sorry about the DSL miseries, the only thing worse than not being connected is being too connected.

    1. Thanks, B. It's pretty much literal for me atm, so I can't claim too much credit for waves of social insight, though I agree completely about the five fucking days and the grabbing so hard, so hungrily, for what is really nothing.. no doubt at all the right hand don't know what the left hand do, either,never more than now, and I often feel they might cease to believe they even belong to the same body. Sometimes you just have to sing the blues to not unrelievedly live them.

  4. Oh this is delicious and scathing and yet a wonder-filled cross-examination of a poem. The images are startling for the digitary count-down - each a compliment and jarring contrast - and the words are, as usual - absolutely exquisite Joy. And I was so laughing at the depth of sheer and brutal beauty in the Wednesday's twigged uprising - talk about flipping the bird!

    All laughter aside - this is another layered piece, rich for the resonance, the essences and the sheer ludicrous nature of this world, as well as personal dissent - or should that be descent? into whatever madness and hell this seems to be. Although not bearing a distant cousin's relationship to Dante's Hellish inferno, this reads like a sardonic examination - and it's subtle - and full bodied. Much like the most delicious Dr. himself. (Absolutely Great Clip - such a cult classic - and this is a most forgiving and needed dance needed to kick start and ass this weekend, it seems - so thanks for that)

    And I just have to note: the ending - the ref. to a child's hand - oh, wow - incredibly unexpected and literally made me drift into all kinds of associations - pudgie pinkies indeed -

    You've blown this 55 wide open - a refreshing much needed breeze in this sweltering humidity, waiting on the relief and release.

    May you Totally Kick Ass this weekend Joy - thanks for hosting - and here is my simple 55:

    1. Thanks so much willow. I am always surprised when people find so much in what I write--(not that I don't put it there, but I don't really know consciously all that I attempt to translate from the great vat of inner whispers.)I find the 55 is a great concentrator of forces, of image, of message--you must build it word by word, thought by thought, and sacrifice all but the best of them. Thanks again for playing.

  5. I'm wondering the same thing. I saw where 77% of Repubs feel that Orange Babyman provides "strong moral leadership." Are they stupid? Asleep? Drunk? Beyond that, droves of idiots think non opposable thumb woman didn't do anything wrong. She says herself that she's not racist. Oy. I think that hand is just flogging the log these days.

    Love that clip! He was awesome. Didn't the same actor play Pennywise the Dancing Clown in "It"? I might be wrong.

    Here's my 55:

    1. Yes, Tim Curry played Pennywise in the original It. In the recent remake, a Swedish actor related to one of my Vikings stars played him, also very very well.I hadn't intended this as a reference to the Sad! Orange Clown, but it works quite well that way--glad for your insights as always, dear BFF, and thanks for playing.

  6. vivid, wry, thought-provoking, and for some reason Colonel Sanders comes to mind.

    Hope you have a kick-ass weekend, Joy.

    Mine is on my blog, but as I posted to toads, didn't want to mislead that's it's different.

    1. No probs--here's the link for those who don't want to wade through the list on my sidebar:

      It was a very nostalgic and comforting read for me, M--thanks. Laughin at Colonel Sanders--I almost tagged it finger-lickin good...;_)

    2. Well, I lied, I have one more twig on the branch, before I cut down the tree.


      I'll keep it up through the weekend, before shutting down the blog again (I'll still visit and read, but I'm going to stop posting for... well, who knows, right?)

      Thanks, as always, for your keen and kind words, and for giving this platform.

      ~ M

    3. I understand, for whatever reasons, sometimes it's needful.There are times when life has other things for us, or when the situation just isn't feeling right. As you know, I do little blogging myself any more. I've just shut the place down so many times I feel like a drama queen when I put up the shutters, so I keep it around. The 55 helps. I'll miss yours.

  7. I smiled in enjoyment as I read your poem this morning, Joy. It is very witty, with excellent diction and an image for each day of the week that I can relate to.

    Here is my offering for this week...

    1. Thank you, Kerry--your insights are always appreciated. I love the revamped wintry look of your blog; as high summer begins hurtling us into triple digit heat here, it's very refreshing to know there is winter somewhere else.

    2. It's an upside-down world, sometimes in the coolest way.

  8. Another tres' clever 55. another good opportunity to look in on talented wordsmiths. unfortunate for me I was late to join in. next week, then. g.r.

    1. Thank you--and the 55 is always open til midnight Saturday CST, US. (and I enjoyed your 63. ;_) )

  9. Sad to read DSL is troubling you Hedge and your digits are playing awful games with you. I do so hope misery decides to play with itself and not your fingers soon. My hands treat me rather well despite advancing years – its lower back and legs for me- but (I think) nowhere near your torture.

    Your words describe your misery all too perfectly. The close is very clever. As said, do so hope the problem resolves itself soon.

    My little offering here:

    Anna :o]

    1. Thank you Anna. The poem is more of a metaphor than a complete actuality, thankfully. But as we age, pain is indeed our constant companion. I am so glad you came by to add your 55.

  10. Th e 55 is now closed till next Friday. Thanks to all who have played this week, and see you next time.