Nobody Loves Nobody

I wrote a chapbook of poems entitled Nobody Loves Nobody (fussfactory press, 2009). Here are some of my favorites from the collection:

Extraordinary Chicken

I think what we’ve got here 

Is one very 

Extraordinary Chicken.

Plumage explosion

Mid-east implosion 

Fresh talon on the track 

Quick,

Feather shot in the neck.

Oh, my lady,

You’d be the strut to

Quick-draw those badlands

Coop-city limits

Ride the wave of drug kings

For the promise of a nest-egg

Sweet life in the free-range.

I knew I’d lose you to a flutter

A keystroke in a backyard saloon

Hand-drawn maps, fixed tricks

In thrift store bathrooms. 

It’s hard to resist 

Countries patterned in paisley

And those sky-high neon thighs

Too good for the

Shit, piss

I am left to follow

The golden nuggets of sodden feed

Gathered in your wake:

A feather for my mantle,

A slice of beak for my pocket,

The missing key for the mouthpiece

That magic whistle

Translating the language of scratch

Misinterpreted by cowboys in leather overalls

Too obsessed with the price of pitchforks

To paint over the marks that 

Cut our names inside a heart on the 

Wooden pegs of your coop

Last December.

When we made love, warm inside the armpit of a bird-like mastodon

Two feet flight above

A nestle in winter, and that

Moon, 

Bigger than the backside of a buck

Taking off in a gunshot wedding:

A kiss for the story,

A beer for the show of doves,

Flying slow-motion 

Over popped corn

Tossed from the hand of a man

Who flexes in his left

A needle made of claw,

A thread made of wire,

Stitching up talon-sized holes in the 

Sleeves of his, Extraordinary Chicken, 

Lace-like feathers

The silver lining inside one 

Red plaid coat.

Nobody

This one time at camp

We stood over Kyle’s body 

And watched him die.

Took maybe five minutes 

Max,
Took the feet 

Sarah,
The head,

And I cleared the path,

To the lake

Where we used to swim out past the ropes 

And pretend we, too, had tipped the

Canoe,

Eaten by the lake monster

Bodies so fresh,
The sun lit our veins

Thin as maple leaves.

Our parents never came for us. 

Busy planning next summer's vacation to 

The moon

Says to the kid 

Sitting in the forest alone:

Nobody loves nobody

The way the sap 

Loves the pine 

Before it drips to the earth

And hardens to 

Gold.

Some blurbs from my friends (thank you):

Drunk with language, bright with youthful worry and wonder for the world, the poems and stories in Wynne Renz's uplifting book ask to be voiced. With texts as recklessly scored and punctuated as Emily Dickinson's originals, the poet invites you to hear her Out. And Out is where these pages lead: to places where "There's something unfortunate / About women selling love / To other women / In the form of over-priced undergarments." Or where "Polar bears nap on ice caps controlled by meter, / and posted warnings of potential danger." Or where "Whales, with / Fins black as Sharpies, / [Fill] the whites of our eyes." On "Long distance legs and heroine veins" you power-walk Out to have you some "Strip mall sushi." Sailing further Out yet, you come back home to the "wolf in your bed ... / Who kisses you Good Morning/ And shrinks to the size of your inner ear." To hear and feel for yourself the passion and power of Nobody Loves Nobody read "Extraordinary Chicken" out loud. And listen.

— Al Young, the late Poet Laureate of California emeritus

If how these poems are written could translate into how a word is vocalized, the soft fluidity and lilt of each line would equate to the word, ‘Pondwater.’

— Johnny “Cricket” Kovatch, Poet and Founder of InsideOUT Writers/Prison Insight Program

Nobody Loves Nobody, from the first verse, is a book you read slowly, knowing right away you want to make it last. The poetess's use of double syntax and optional meaning is slick without being overdone, never crafty for crafty's sake, but always adding an other level of interpretation. Her topics range from the young and vital to the timeless and quaint, demonstrating a range of perception which is as refreshing as it is rattling, even disturbing.  The only criticism I could offer is that it isn't long enough. So I recited my favorite verses to whoever was close by, then read it again.

— Sam Kulla, Editor, High Contrast Review

Bedrooms

I co-wrote the four-part feature film Bedrooms, produced by Cima Films. The film premiered at the 2010 Los Angeles Latino Film Festival 2010 and was acquired by Showtime Networks in 2011 for a year-long run, as well as Netflix. I had the pleasure of writing the story of “Roger and Marnie,” featuring Barry Bostwick (Rocky Horror Picture Show) and Dee Wallace (E.T.).