Category: dVerse
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Wordle #292 & Haibun #33
Those Early Years I am 60 years more than I was then, inhaling life, and out in the middle of nowhere. We fled the city for the shadows in foothills, camping under soothing stars and between the wide feet of trees. We toasted bread with licks from open flames. Made velvety stew, thick and sweetened…
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Dead Birds and Relics and Too Many Words
Dead Birds and Relics Moths and flames and curiosity; I was drawn to that boxy-solid museum with its grey dullness, and its terraced strong-arm steps for catching slips and stumbles during white-mantled weather. Those were my impressionist days when the world was dipped in a blur, and the busy periphery yielded to burdenous double-door brass…
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dVerse Takes a Ride
Double Dare Dare you. Double dare you. Boo! as you do in 3rd grade, the school’s haunted house, and my knees are crawling through prickly air, down around a web-blown maze. I’m blind as a mole in this unmerciful clench. Air blows ghostly sheets and pumpkins growl — I hold myself in this airless sheer.…
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dVerse Quadrille #28
A Nod to March My daffodils’ angelic glances tremble with suspense. Statuesque stems shivering at the thought, snow forgotten so soon, so absolutely in sun’s gloss of satin and crocus pearls. Spring’s vexed by winter’s squeeze while ladybugs sit cross-legged, prop their chins against their elbows and wait. poetic form: Quadrille. (44 words…
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Building for dVerse
In the Blue I built a home under a sweep of sky, on a dome, on a small knoll of land, on a meadow of laughter’s echo, there I built a home in a realm of blue. for dVerse “DIY Building“
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dVerse Haibun #32
It’s spring. The leaves are green lisping tongues, and the faint sun stays low as a lost soul. It sings rather than shines. But that’s March, that in-between month, when winter lingers and spring seems too reluctant. I long for air, and walk amongst finger branches and spreading green that reveal truths hidden from my…
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dVerse’s Memento
As It Once Was It hangs, gilt frame, and a sepia sketch. 1945. Vesterport by Soren Frank. The old tollgate as it used to be with the mayor’s house on the right. Regency windows, leaded and multi-paned. Two gas lights by the door, electric shines there now. Square cobbles, a street, a walk to the…
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dVerse Quadrille #27
I Dreamt That I Woke on the Bottom of the Ocean I love the sound of rushing water, whether it’s in rivers, or over rocks. Noisy and giggling as a burlesque show. Uncharted, free and evergreen cold. But I have no such ear or affection for that sound when its tune comes from my refrigerator.…
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dVerse Haibun #31
Those Free Absolutes This morning’s sleep fell away into a different sphere, upward like grey smoke or fog lifting off an icy sea. And there was coffee, its scent humming through the air, and I grew more awake, stretched my clattering bones as the clock ticked away with cold clarity, in steps, by steps, by…
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dVerse Quadrille #26
I. Living In a Quiver I remember your mouth, soft and sea salt sweet, awake as a scattered melody. Lighthearted and revealing as the moon’s careless truth. Our buried whispers. We moved through the years, lost happily in a quiver. Those memories are ghosts but we’ll pretend we’re forever. II. Up In Smoke He’d…
It's Still Life 