Category: dVerse
-
dVerse Looking Up
What Were You Thinking … that everyone felt that rise and fall, that it was breathing. waves in the sky, that my feet were on the ground so my head was safe in the stars, that you and I were safe because we turned the key between us, that the only way out is from…
-
dVerse Quadrille #44
Kick Plastic no plastic, no kicking this plastic planet into the long grass. no scrapyard-plastic junkyard, no poisoned water pumps or floating microbeads. rising, rising, and how to hold back a tideline. we’re drinking from a madman’s glass, drinking up desert. nobody trusts a scorpion’s nose. dVerse Quadrille #44 “kick” 44 words
-
dVerse Haibun Monday
The bird bath is frozen, and the house stares out on a silvery fog. Crows on the hop. On the lawn. Pepper on white. Onyx on the hop. They argue. They joke. It’s a caw a caw — it’s a stabbing incantation as their beaks seek small creatures hidden in the soil, hidden like deep…
-
Found dVerse
Erasure source: “The Poem of the Future” by J.R. Solonche from Invisible. “Pulvis et umbra sumus” (We are but dust and shadow.) ― Horace, “The Odes of Horace”, written for dVerse
-
Twiglet #47
Running Parallel Mum has a dark edge, like sun in and out of clouds, but every story has a bit of meat. I’d know hers anywhere. In one or two of my lives, she’s been my root – roots run parallel. I look like Mum. Mum looks like her father. Same eyes. Jaw. Same frown.…
-
2 Easy for Miz Quickly
Got Me on My Knees He’s been arguing with himself these days. It’s all gone wrong. Been wronged. It’s a paler shade of broken, he says, while he argues with the mirror, and longs for her legs. A lost prisoner to her songs. And he falls into blond on blond dreams, begging Layla, you’ve got…
-
de-Grammer for dVerse
Another Cloud I knew a girl, she grew she grew, a hued music lived inside her, finger-dancing across her knees. Another day, acid-etched, another soft-edge cloud spilled, another bird’s scribbling word. And her cat’s the colour of sunset. It keeps itself just beyond her dancing-fingers reach. for dVerse and Gnomes
-
Sleeping for dVerse
The Ragged Edge of Sleep I. Even as I dream, I hear his sleep. I’ve come to expect it, the way you expect water to be wet, and I wonder about the depth of my dreams if his sleep was no longer mine to hear. II. Mine was an embalmering sleep, and I dreamt of…
It's Still Life 