Category: dVerse
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dVerse Quadrille #25
A Sketched Ruin I live in a village that runs north by south, trees thickly dot the main road with summer’s shade and cover. We’re neither rich nor poor, though our history’s rich — our old church is a sketched ruin, a dwelling place that echoes at dawn. written for dVerse Quadrille (44…
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dVerse Verbifies
Let’s Talk Fog The fog conceived this stomach sky, cut so thick it’s stepped, a smoke-steeping attitude, it’s a fine sort of blasé. The world Mayed and greened, and diesel-eyed dark, and the air speaks of lost fire. written for dVerse “Verbified” and Poetic Asides “Let’s …“
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Miz Quickly’s Day 24: Spiral
When Twiddling Your Thumbs Just Won’t Do I’ve emptied the fridge. There’s a shallow pool of water on the floor, and a repairman is due in an hour. Appointment times are an opportunity to fidget, so I rearrange cupboards, restock tinned veg and beans, realign spice jars, fill canisters with rice, with flour, with sugar,…
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dVerse Haibun #29
That Dog And your little dog, too. Toto. Totally Toto. Barking at wind and witches and straw and wizards. I’m not an enthusiast of cute and fluff noise. Terriers — too small to know their place. No perspective. A constant scurry, and never waiting for their own tail. My dog never barked at wind. Nor…
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dVerse Parallelism & Repetition
20th January: West Sussex the sun rises across the leaves, daffodils sprout, a green as tight as clasped hands, and I’m half-hid behind a steaming cup of tea. and I woke with a headache today, Peder’s caught The Queen’s Cough, the dog’s nerves are humming, and I’m at war with bone-breaking cold. and there was…
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Miz Quickly’s Day: 18 & dVerse “Artisans”
Meatballs and Fish Scales Nothing’s more Italian than meatballs, Mum says. She’s holding a salmon by the tail and scraping off its scales. They’re spraying all over the place like unravelling sequins. Meatballs were invented by the Italians, she adds, in that I know everything about everything tone — and she’s hunched over the old…
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Quadrille #24 and Miz Quickly’s Day 17
Dead Fly dead fly on the windowsill, whispered speck, legs up as if playing on monkey bars. little bugger won’t be flying anywhere; it’s missing a wing and its red welt eyes lack a point of view. brittle little thing is heading for the garbage bin. for dVerse: Quadrille (44 words) including “whisper”…
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Miz Quickly’s Day 12: Where I Live
Blackberrying with Sylvia Path I’m on a morning stroll, and I smell snow. I know it, like a sailor knows hooks, and knots, and knows the sea. It’s coming. And soon. Arctic winds bridge the seasons, giving reason to leafless trees and icy winds, long frigid nights and woolly bed socks. Nobody’s on this footpath…
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dVerse Haibun #28 and Miz Quickly’s Day 11 Image
Burlesque Girls I still think about that cafeteria, those downtown girls with bright red lips and hair sleek and slicked into ponytails. They slid like valley fog, slow and easy into the gaps of long leather booths. I watched, quiet as a speck of dust as they sipped Pepsi and ate and laughed, and to…
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Miz Quickly’s Day 6 & dVerse Pub Form
Brushed Off This was his landscape, that young boy who played the streets, whistled tunes and ran barefoot. Happy ignorance, his laughing days, each morning caution raced him hand in hand. And he brushed off death when he took to chasing trains, that young boy who walked the tracks, always laughing, tempting fate. …
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