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dVerse Haibun: 13.12.17
My man with white hair and eyes like sky, he whistles with robins and hums with bees, my cheerful man with grandchildren on his knee, arms reaching up for him, he’s easy, his breezy smile, and he’s my happy surprise, that man with white hair. My castle wall His round tower heart Pardon the day…
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Twiglet #54
Brass-Knuckle Rain Not that I understand such things as water. Water, like a spill on petals, a rip and razored rain. It’s a dark ask of the sun. for Twiglet #54 “Water Water”
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Wordle #329
A Hint of Siberia Without Producing a Passport Sub-zero wind is a hard nudge An assault A deep breath feels like your last It dropped into minuses overnight Blizzardy snow and icicles hanging hard as Sheffield Loose teeth aiming to fall And there goes the wind again Against the house a bashing steel bar at…
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dVerse Quadrille #46
A Too Brief Moment Did you listen to morning dew glisten, alas did you hear my footfall, shoeless, crunching grass. Ask yourself when you last heard silence. Last night we stood in Leicester Square, where fairy-lights dazzled the air, and I caught your still shadow next to mine. dVerse Quadrille #46 “crunch” and…
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Wordle #328
Together They were a Shipwreck He existed in a California Dreaming, as if betrayal and loss were minor abrasions, and Monday’s intelligence was a profound art. He thanked poetry and disasters for his inspiration. And she was shifting sunlight. Laughter never-settling. A thirsty sound of simple phrases that filled the air. Like party songs or…
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Day 30 NovPAD
Inside a Loop This day’s made of bits of us. My eyes have seen too much — but bless the child’s eyes that give life to words. My grandmother doused herself in lavender. A groping scent that still closes in on me like her heavy-breasted embrace. The air flashed of frost and snow this morning,…
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Day 29 NovPAD
A White Demise I watched a single white star fall from the sky. Should I be sorry for your whitened demise, Falling through darkness, flowing like spilt milk. I shed tears for you. NovPAD Day 29: write a response poem. Form: sapphic ode 3×11+1×5
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Changes for dVerse
We walk along the ageing edge of things, reading tombstones like book titles. Everyone has a story, you say, and I wonder what percentage of my story is a prank. It’s all too depressing here, you say, but I find Highgate strangely calming, as if existing amongst these fates is an affirmation. And the wind…
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Day 27 NovPAD
A Skirt of Sky (revised 1.12.17) I have a recurring dream. A red house with views that never end, and broad sky with a heart of wind, ventriloquist gulls pale as clouds, and for white, for bleached bone blurs of snow fine as endless dust. A Skirt of Sky I have a recurring…
It's Still Life 