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A Conversation with a Rogue Taxidermy
A Conversation with a Rogue Taxidermy I know a girl who says she’s not sure how she came to be here, sitting on a metal folding chair, wearing a white silk gown, a corseted tight-waisted atrocity. She’s a harpist, back row over to the left, her right, and she plucks away wearing silky gloves. Whose…
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A Dog and A Tree for Miz Quickly
Dog and Tree I am not four paws nor in need of a bone I ‘m not a cold nose nor a tail that wags I don’t do kibbles and I don’t do it from a can, and I don’t need toys that squeak and annoy. I am green, (except for when I’m not), and…
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Wicked Games with Miz Quickly
Wicked Games First things first — The world was on fire, it looked at me, took me, and shook me. What a wicked game you played to make me feel this way. Second thing second — I’m the one at the sail, I’m the master of my sea. What a wicked thing to say you…
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In-Form: Reiki
(Untitled) Bold, this iron hot, this devil you know. Choice is always an option. ℳ A Reiki form poem for In-Form Poetics and dVerse Does Adages . Reiki: 5.5.4.3 syllable count; no title; rhyme optional
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Miz Quickly’s Name Game
The Name Game Dad called me Jack, called my mother Egghead. He called my sister Robin, but that was her name. for Miz Quickly’s “What’s in a Name“
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dVerse Quadrille #63
A Stoney-Face Sky Summer’s end burns exhausted, as if falling faint from effort. The sky is stoney-faced, torn and tense and shining, and trickling jigsaw shapes against the windowpane. Earth chews its bottom lip, nervous, life’s slowing to a static stride. Winter watches in the distance. for dVerse Quadrille #63 44 words, excluding the…
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Miz Quickly’s Found-Deux
Found in Saturday Conversations at Fell House Gardens We are a taste of this – of styrofoam cups it’s always insane, up on the ceiling and under the floor, empty in the middle wherever that is. He fell in love with a drop of rain, spikes of red and yellow, a good morning, a coffee…
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Miz Quickly’s Never Again
Never Again I live and learn, and sometimes I learn the hard way, like I’ll never again drink the water in Cartagena, forget to put suncream on the top of my feet, order braised chicken feet, allow myself near a bowl of snake soup, visit the poultry market at WanChi market, or never cry over…
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A Wander
A Wander The idea that I might wander lonely, be seduced by a ramble, not in a breathless city, but to traverse the nature of poetry. To forget that I am. That I am. for Poetic Bloomings “Forget”
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24 August 2018
Originally posted on The Journal: On the Occasion of the Poet’s Being Challenged There’s an air of atheism about a plastic flower, no matter where it is, it just seems wrong. And, I never grocery shop on an empty stomach, which is why I’m at this tiny tired cafe , sitting on a plastic chair…
It's Still Life 