Category: Wordles
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For Sunday’s Wordle No. 494
Rise I love a sugar-spun dawn,earth unable to ignore the sky. It’s that moment when a thoughtmakes its mark. Opens the skin. It’s self-explanatory, and simpleas following a straight line road. It’s a singed dry leaf, an edged ghostfringe, foreign to its landscape, or a new thought that’s lying in waitright around the corner, where…
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for Sunday Whirl #487
I Saw No Christmas Star Last Night because city light breathes and sighs a gloomy gasp, like dogs barking at quicksilver across the sky, and the moon grows fat, a hanging light that shines the sky …
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for Sunday Whirl #471
I’m a Tide for the Moon Even better than the perfumeof jasmine on a warm night,I love the scent of cornbread. A journey of glancing breathinto a childhood memory, the impact of diced jalapeños, it’s like a note, a sharp accenton the edge of my tongue.I am forever its captive, and forever a tide for…
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For Sunday Whirl
What Was A black fly walks across my glass,tastes where my lips just touched.It spies me, and thinks,Do you sting like a bee? Cast an eye across this garden.Vines limp as ghostly chains.Seeds blown away with the sand.Tomatoes hang like stunned eyes. Summer slipped away,just like rain through a net.Either too hot, or too cold,always…
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For Sunday Whirl #456
A Quietness Inside Did you hear shy bluebells ring? A song that begins, and dies again. Breathe white on white, frozen air and snow as a gust slips in, kills your wick and flame. Droplets of nectar is a bee’s liberty, let reason be my thirst and rhythm. Bees meet under the scent of lilacs,…
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Quadrille #99 and Wordle
The Approach The barn door’s open to birds singing, and he comes into view, born out of smooth fog. The floor’s a chill. His damp stirs. Rips the fog, lifts from his heat. He’s a virus. A panic. I felt old enough. I’d just turned twenty. for dVerse Quadrille #99 and Wordle Words…
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Wordle #442
Singing in Time He smirked, said the future was in the clouds, that it’d come down on a person like a shower of rain. Then he murmured something about demons’ fire scores the skin, so I learned to sing in time with church bell chimes, my sins churned away with a breath and a raspy…
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Blackdamp
Blackdamp Picture, if you will, a brief surge of engine steam that glitters with pyrite dirt. It churns the still night air – They work the old coal pits, shuffle down damp tunnels, black dust kisses the skin. The canary trips no concern. And up above this blackdamp, in the crisp clean air, there in…
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Wordle #415
Wrapped in a Blackbird’s Song I hear a blackbird. Its call lifts the day. A shellacked spray of rose and dawn, a smear, a scar that chokes the last sham- bles of deepest night. I fit tomorrow’s dreams into empty corners of my pillow. The stars shimmy, fade, and I wrap myself into a new…
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