It’s too hot outside to go bare footed

Words are extroverts
Supping on fornication 

Silence is a girl 

You overlooked in grade school

And years later

Reminded of her tight braids

The color of caramel

You seek her in crowds 

Like a woman without children

Will hesitate

Ever so slightly 

On a babies wispy crown

Half thinking

Her baren hands


We carry our pains

Wrapped in butcher’s brown paper

With yesterday’s headlines

Bled on our feet

As rain purges the feeling and night

Grows trees of velvet

In the deep inhalation 

of a closed door against 

Night storm


33 thoughts on “It’s too hot outside to go bare footed

  1. I don’t just want to like this and pass on to the next. I always have trouble expressing why I like some poetry and not others. I think I don’t always understand all of any poem I have ever read and that is a part of what makes poetry poetry. I guess the best way to describe it is that a good poem feels to me like a dream. As I am reading it I feel as though it is real and intense and I understand everything. Then, when it ends, I find myself picking through grains of sand as they sift out of my field of vision. I can read a poem a hundred times yet still, that is how it feels. When it is good. And that is how I feel reading your poems. (And I am not just giving you a compliment for a compliment.) You just commented and it reminded me that I need to go check out more of your work. And, as always, I am happy I did. I see a lot of poetry on wordpress….a damn lot. You are REMS to their catnaps.

  2. Ah my friend. I agree about reading poetry being like a dream. Understanding is not necessary it’s how it makes you feel. I’m glad i read you, the combination of the art and stories wakes me up, that’s a very positive feeling. You have a lot more to you than you can see, and more to come. There is power in your desire for this. Keep going forward. Others like myself believe in you. Thank you for you.

  3. The first few words mean the most to me. Words are whores. When I make myself write them or say them, I become someone else, maybe someone I’m not. Only when I’m quiet, I think, am I the person I’ve always been. But I don’t think I ever liked that person, so I prefer to write. Spot on, Candy. (Can I call you that?) 😉

  4. Beautiful symbolism and imagery in your powerful, yet poignant work! Of course, will read several times as you always give us so much to meditate upon! Thank you for helping us see the world and our world in a different and younique way!

  5. Candi, you are really so good. I love the subtly of this one — the juxtaposition of the image with the poem is rather brilliant as well. the brown butcher paper is just powerful image. the whole piece is striking. Thank you for this.

  6. Ya know you have an uncanny and glorious way of reaching into the human heart and spirit and giving life into feelings that most of us can’t even express unto ourselves. Goosebumps. Big goosebumps came with this brilliant offering love. Natalie 🙂 ❤

  7. “We carry our pains
    Wrapped in butcher’s brown paper
    With yesterday’s headlines
    Bled on our feet”… So very true. As always artfully penned.

  8. I remember those butcher brown papers wrapping up bloody red meat… as a kid it pained me then. Maybe the years of butchery all around and done unconsciously to me is why I carry my pain.

  9. I am always looking for your blog, cause I don’t get notification of your new posts. I hope I am your friend. I also send you emails and it sends me another email saying it is a wrong email address. I hope you know I am not like everyone. Stay amazing Candice.

  10. Candice, are you back? I thought you left to explore the world adventures? I missed your exquisitely
    written poetry and you. That line “pains wrapped in butcher paper”, that is worded so beautifully. A wonderful piece of work. 🙂

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