Category: Poetry
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Sleepless with Miz Quickly
Awake I’m counting sheep black as pitch, and stars on midnight blue, and I count my bony fingers and chubby toes, while I ignore my creaking knees. They bitch like angry squirrels whenever I move, whenever I sigh, and whenever I hear you snore, I can’t ignore those sounds that keep me awake as the…
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Up
Up We sing high as rising smoke, circles that float soft as silt. Rising food for a sprinkle of stars. Our feet shuffle, rustle at leaves, and kiss the wind. This week’s word at Three-Line-Thursday is “Rings”
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Where Do I Find…
Where Do I Find Inspiration … in the fragile and frayed, in the light and cool, in the whirl and gleaming infinities of you. In forest pines and rain fresh as a child’s eyes, in the tooth and the bone of a North Sea breeze. In young oak tree leaves, in a summer sunset, in…
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Off-Season for Miz Quickly
Winter at Fjellebroen Havn It clings. The ice is thick on the masts, thick in ropey skeins, and the riggings whine with the singing wind. Straight out of the north. It’s come. It’s lost. Diamond hard. It bites. Feels white as bone, this snow howling across our backs. The air is a carnival swirl. And…
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A Sestina for Miz Quickly
Battered Clouds Shallow grass of fluid green, flows broad, old river Narrow as shadows that slip between bridge and roots. So softly spoken as you drift, fall, these leaves That tumble everywhere, thirsty as the clear blue sky. You shape a daydream, of home, of battered clouds, Your right hand holds tight the last curls…
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dVerse Rooms
Grandpa was autumn. That’s how I saw him. In his brown trousers and rusty-red shirt and a folded paper hat on his head that looked like an origami boat, and he’d stand there in his basement workshop sawing up some piece of driftwood, sawdust flying about like a blizzard. A lightbulb hung from a cord…
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Twiglet #86
games we played games with little words, round and small as pebbles. Poop, she said and fell into laughter. never mind the extra O. we kept it spare as change. For Twiglets #86
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Three Thoughts on a Saturday Afternoon
Three Thoughts on a Saturday Afternoon I. As seen from Those folds and rolls Of clouds that skate The sky, a slate puzzle Fitted and tucked Jigged and jointed Like words strung Into long sentences Into a bridge from This horizon to where, I am your audience. [inspired by dVerse “Solstice Couplets” and…
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Wordle #353
Untitled He’s like stray murmurs, or a black-cat-fear that hides in black shadows. He’s silent. And invisible. He belongs to the walls. His thoughts tickle his ears. He laughs, the sound skips across the floor like marbles. Like truth stripped from little white lies. Life gets in his way – not living. This corner, this…
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dVerse Quadrille #57
Off a Duck’s back Here’s another list of water off a duck’s back. The sun’s glare, and crow’s feet. Rain on your picnic. Anything that’s faux. My memory. Ice cubes that melt too fast. Tepid tea. Armpits dark with sweat. Rain on your glasses. Tip-of-your-tongue words, and rain. for dVerse Quadrille #57
It's Still Life 