Extraordinary Sunshine Weaver

Who hasn’t heard of Nolcha Fox? She’s one of the most prolific contemporary U.S. poets. Nolcha Fox’s poems have been curated in more print and online journals than I can count. She’s a nominee for 2023, 2024, and 2025 Best of The Net and nominee for 2023 and 2024 Pushcart Prize. Her poetry has been translated into Chinese. She’s the editor for Chewers by Masticadores.

I envy her productivity. I see she has 3 or 4 poems published daily, even before I’ve had my morning coffee! I was honored when she submitted to MasticadoresUSA, and we became friends battling the Google gremlins that kept eating her attachments. Before long, she was sending me verses daily to reply to. This collaboration led to a book we expect to publish with Garden of Neuro in 2024. Too Much Fun to be Legal. I’ve also reviewed two of her books and will repost those reviews on Barb’s Wordy Blurbs.

Her book My Pelvis Wants to be Elvis consists of some of her favorite poems, many of which appear in a wide variety of online venues. These poems follow her signature pattern. Short and profound, they hit the funny bone. Each poem stands alone. There is no direct connection other than her personal preference.

In many of these poems, I see a deepening sense of humanity struggling to sigh between the lines of grief and loss. 

Impossible Landscapes

You flicker, a warmth

lighting corners in shadows,

still bright, even though

you are years from this house.

The silk scarf haphazardly

tossed on the armchair,

your fragrance, your heat

even now leaves me dizzy,

though silk scarf and armchair

are antiques long gone.

Your smile painted landscapes

I store in the attic,

believing they’ll call you

and bring you back home.

Fox shows a range of emotions in her lines. She explores the effects of dark loss and abandonment. The simple statements open a profound abyss.

what we would find,

We didn’t know

when you left us forever.

We came together 

to clean up, clean out.

We didn’t know 

the depths of pretense,

the sham of family love.

We didn’t know 

how broken we were

until you broke us.

On the other hand, I sense silliness in playful poems such as this one, which named the collection.

My pelvis wants to be Elvis

on The Ed Sullivan Show, you know,

I want to be that cutie who shakes her booty

while Elvis bumps and grinds. Who minds

gyrating hips and snarling lips?

The truth be said, my darling Ed,

the rest of me wants to be

in bed.

Fox is playful with imagery in her reminders not to take life too seriously.

wiggling down the spine,

Thought is a caterpillar

making a left into the mouth,

and fluttering out as a word butterfly.

Sometimes, it turns too soon

and slides down the nose.

Then, it’s just snot.

The poems are well crafted. Read out loud, the rhythm and meter come through well, and the end rhymes, when used, help bring out the levity of the poems.

Blame the Cat

Who else could teach our bicycles to roll up that big tree,

and hang their wheels below the leaves for everyone to see?

Who else could teach the wintering deer to clamber up the roof

for selfie opportunities to send to friends as proof?

We have to blame the cat because he doesn’t give a crap,

and flicks his tail erratically while settling in to nap.

When you read Fox’s poems, you often get a good chuckle with the surprise endings, which carry reminders of our human condition.

I Can Lose Anything

I’ve lost my keys.

I’ve lost my hat.

I’ve lost myself in thought.

I’ve lost my wallet.

I’ve lost my mind.

I’ve even lost the dog.

I’ll probably be 

the one to lose

the nametag on my toe.

If you enjoyed reading the poems cited, you will definitely want to read the entire connection. Follow this link.