Month: May 2017
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Twiglet #26
But Who’s Counting Dad smoked his first and last cigarette when he was 16. He joined the Navy when he was 16, too. Lied, he did. Said he was 18. No birth certificate, he told the enlister, which was true — every record in the city hall burnt when the records room caught fire. A […]
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Twiglet #24
Her heart is a watch’s tick. His words are lyrics to delicate ears. Sandbags against the wall, sagging, like tired ears that have heard too much. Note: two American Sentences of 17-sysllables. Written for The Twiglets
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for Twiglet #23
He did seem taller than I remembered; maybe his hair was shorter. #17Syllables for Twiglet #23 “his hair was shorter”. Image is from Unsplash, used without restriction.
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It’s May at Visual Verse
When the Thunder Died Paint it as you want but there is no we. No more us. It’s just you. You and your pebble-brained tales, and blue birds of sappiness. And somewhere between Christmas and mid-February, your tone turned from white noise to shocking blue. Blue noise; you filled the air with static graffiti and […]
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dVerse’s Haibun #36
It’s May. The streets are wet from this morning’s sharp shower, apple blossoms are falling from the trees, and the birds are singing and whittling twigs into nests. The air seems a song. My dad, bless him these 10-years gone, used to whistle that zip-a-dee-doo-dah song. He’d smile as if Mr Bluebird was on his […]
It's Still Life 