Category: Miz Q
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They Slip, and Are Slipping Still
They Slip, and Are Slipping Still I wake. Go for my pen. Capture your dreams, I was once told. This day is a wrought iron oak, black enamelled, slick as shine. In a town on the coast, hills fall to the beach into pebbles rushing on waves. In a museum, with tin prints of nude…
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Dreaming for Miz Quickly
If I Could Remember My Dreams This Poem Would Make More Sense I have dreams that barely scratch the surface. Unpronounceable by morning. Forgotten like a throb from yesterday’s headache. And my narrative (primal) voice, just where does it go? Does it slip into some middle distance, or in-between parallel seams? Intuition. Not hardly, but…
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Miz Quickling’s More of a Good Thing
Howl She was howling, but that’s the way of laughter. It’s a filament’s thread from a smile, from a teardrop, between a blossom and wilt. written for Miz Quickly’s Thursday prompt:Too Much of a Good Thing.
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Miz Quickly’s Too Much of a Good Thing
And It’s Written That woman, she has a tyrant’s walk, with her suits in shades of dry bones and rained-on tweed, with her hair of molten silver, and I’m sure there’s some proverb or precept written that warns — step aside, and avoid the reckless ambitions of deposed gods. written for Miz Quickly’s…
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Miz Quickly’s Day 31: Sonnet #1
Sonnet #1 we called the drought rain, and it drummed a small thunder. the ground stained naked as night, a dismal and withering drizzle. but we danced, and we drank, falling about and blowing at clouds, spilling air on mud-entranced faces, and our eyes stared at the sky as we buried it all with a…
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Miz Quickly’s Day 30: A Few Words
Tipping Dominos he is a book better bolted shut. He is fire escaped. and I know a woman who howls and cries, but its music is lost on deaf senses. he is an ox in a pine forest, and he’ll break earth. and I know a man who shakes and prays, but he also dances…
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Miz Quickly’s Day 29: Dressing for a Hidden Agenda
Dressing for Weather This hat is a mistake. Too tight. It imprints knit and pearl and cable stitch on my forehead. But I’ll wear it; it keeps me warm. The weather’s still edgy. And when did I start noticing if zippers are metal? It seems the world’s gone plastic but this zip is metal —…
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Mis Quickly’s Day 28: In the Style of
Your Little Black Cloud This is just to say that I’ve drained your little black cloud. It came swimming at me, like a water bird. A depth. A loon. And I was a boat in its wake. Rocked. written for Miz Quickly Day 28: write a poem in the style of William Carlos…
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Miz Quickly’s Day 27: Restaurants
This is a revised version. Al’s Fresco Palace Restaurant in Hong Kong From time to time, I’m still somewhere under a China sun that staggers in midday heat. I’m below a canvas shadow. On a wrought iron chair. Where pavements are gum-stuck; the air’s bruised. This is not heaven, and at times, it’s hardly earth,…
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Miz Quickly’s Day 26: In The Mood
Did You Hear the Rain The radio is white noise, but I can’t help listening — falling into “Did You Hear the Rain”. I hum, and empty the dishwasher, dry the glasses before they spot. The phone rings. Her ashes have arrived, says the receptionist, you can pick her up today. And I can’t hear…
It's Still Life 