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Haibun 22.01.18
Her Lunchbox Spoke Volumes But that business of a first kiss was hard for my little sister — she hit Christopher on the head with her metal lunchbox (mine was Royal Stewart red plaid; her’s was bright flowers). Between us, she was always the softer one. I lived in jeans and summer t-shirts, even when…
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Sunday Whirl #335
Stood There I stood there under bare-knuckle trees, a final buckling void to spring. Stood there admiring a white vinyl sky. Listening to rain-soothed birdsong cutting deep grooves. Chimes sung by design. One tune. None other. I stood there, like a sponge. Soaked. The word “plethora” is like two left shoes; it just…
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A dVerse Response
Unalone I have a friend in stillness, in the dark, the cold of snow, the gaudy days, the nights of destitution, in the quiet, a moment, … almost, the sweet voice of wind, and old skin. That friend, nay, that confusion is a remote shadow, scattering my thoughts. I am unalone. I Have…
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dVerse Golden Shovel
To Break a Stone Let them meet. Would they laugh. Let them find their way through tempers. Not a pen, nor ink, scarlet and bloodied. Make them talk. A voyage in understanding. Me and you, he and him, her and she, let a conversation talk us out of our stone hardness. dVerse Bold…
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Twiglet #59
Luisa She collects white feathers in the garden, scolds bees as they steal nectar from purple clover. She keeps cookie crumbs in her pockets, ketchup stains on her favourite dress. One shoe’s always untied, she’s not sure how to re-tie it, hair clips hang loose in her long black curls, those curls are from her…
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dVerse Quadrille #48.1
A Quantum Bounce It’s a form of freedom, I suppose, drawing your hair up into an elastic band, and then with the air teasing curls, off you bounce. She ran, feet light, legs long, a flouncing quantum bounce. I remember, when I used to run like that. For dVerse: Quadrille (44 words sans…
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dVerse Quadrille #48
On the Cobbles My sights are set on steep roads, sun-baked and wheel- worn cobbled ways. I am aimless through high forests of mist, undercover of desert- spawning sky, broad and wandered by reluctant heroes. I’ve no fear chasing the unknown; eventually, I will always bounce back. dVerse Quadrille #48 “bounce” (44 words).…
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Haibun 8.1.18
I looked it in the eye, that moon. It’s the colour of steaming milk, perfectly dropped in a dark joyful void — perfect for blind sleep — for someone who can. But not for me, I’m fixed on this constellation view, watching a winter moon swallow the sky. Night’s freckles shining Mistook those bright stars…
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Twiglet #55
His Own Parody A new pencil can’t rewrite his narrative. His swagger. Stagger. Maniacal grin. He’s a skilled ghost with sticky fingers and muddy waters. Nevertheless, Happy birthday, Keith. Twiglet #55 “New Pencils” Keith Richards is 66-years old today.
It's Still Life 