Month: Apr 2018
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AprPAD Day 21
Tulip Tulip’s sweet and echoing voice. A flower. A cup. Red as revenge. It is a vanity, even in its own shadow. This beauty drowns in rain, once loved by spring, now dies away, as if carried off by Narcissus. Loves longings, deceived. Day 21: AprPAD Danger and NaPoWriMo Narcissus It’s National Poetry Writing…
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AprPAD 20.1
Auntie She drowned in a floral-scent bath, and we all went into nondisclosure. People drowned in the ocean all the time, sink like stone thrones in pools, but if you drowned in a bathtub, everyone’s full of questions that they won’t ask. They think pills or booze or both. It was both in her case.…
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AprPAD Day 20
The Limits There’s a gulf Between here and there. This town Is toughest at its limits, Hard as darkness, It ignores moonlight. The dogs howl out there. Don’t know why, and No one asks whether It’s rapture or despair. Dogs Mimic their owners, An ill-fated fang is reason enough Not to ask. NaPoWriMo:…
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AprPAD Day 19
I. (for AprPAD ___ Thread) A Garden Thread Those stepping stones, he said, are gravestones. Shallow graves. The brick wall is a pirate’s plank, and there are fangs in the laurel bush, and a spy at the bedroom window. The apple trees have ears — shhhhh, he listens, trees talk to the robins, but for…
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AprPAD Day 17.1
(An Untitled Anti-Love Poem) There are times, when her voice grates, the way she speaks too true, to bruise, to lose her burdens on another, and no thought for someone’s time. Today I speedily walked on by. AprPAD Day 17 Write a love and anti-love poem. This is fiction; I don’t know anyone…
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AprPAD Day 18
I. On the Porch Last summer is caught on the barbs and wire, in the shadows of tumbled hay. The barn door’s slack, the hinge has drawn back, and up there the cat watches from the old wood beams. It plays with flies – all the mice have gone, and I drink my tea, and…
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AprPAD Day 17
It was shortly after I broke my bedroom window with a baseball, which by the way wasn’t my fault, my little sister threw like a girl and I swung a bat like a boy, and it wasn’t my fault that she didn’t catch the ball when I threw it back a tiny bit too…
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AprPAD Day 15
Just Suppose That hurricane. It’s real. Lost in a traveller’s roam. What if, it was alive with a face etched haze-white, a beard stretched like the wind’s tail, and hair tangled like spun-sugar. And what if that hurricane was a child, a livid anger and wayward rejection. With a look. A slap. It would…
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AprPAD Day 14.2
A Conversation Over Tea Leaves I’m having tea with Dad, which is weird because he hates tea, and even more weird because Dad is dead, but that’s dreams for you, and he sips from a teacup thinner than a grub’s spun gauze, and eyes me square on, and says, What’s troubling you, my girl. And…
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AprPAD Day 14.1
A Calculation Sometime between light and dark we climbed the sky. There were echoes, an imprint on water. Today belongs to wise old owls with beards and pillars of fire. AprPAD Day 14: write a report poem Image is from Unsplash It’s National Poetry Writing Month, which explains the surge in activity.…
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