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For Poetic Blooming’s Adventure
IN SEARCH OF APRIL As the sun breaks the cloudy wattle it reveals the high pitched green of spring. Everywhere, its emboldened brush is gilding everything. I forgot the thunder in birdsong, like innumerable feet that trod the ground. My eyes, less than wise, to what stars write for me. written for…
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For Wednesday’s Muse
Japanese Poetry Forms for Wednesday’s Muse #1 she is the branch furthest away from me now. just an occasional reminder, like a wind-flicker or a scent or a fold she left behind just before the trees went bare. For Wednesday Muse #1 poem form: mono no aware (mo.no-ah.way.ray) 5 lines depicting sadness at the passing of…
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For Sunday Whirl #396
A Nightjar in the Hawthornes I’m caught in the pull of a black pepper night. In a streaked chill that stings the moon. A nightjar sings, its breast swells with a song. A remix of clouds with stars. Sing, sing me your alchemy, and then stir the night. Sing in the spirit of life. …
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19 March 2019
Memories of a Wheel of Wind She was like that. A wheel of wind. My mother possessed the kitchen when she made bread. I watched in wonder, her softness of motion as she stood in a white floury cloud. Stretching dough. She’d slap her hands on her apron, flour dust rising like scattered smoke. Everything…
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15 March 2019 – American Sentence
I’m up for a bit of turmoil, like feeding paper to a pen Poetic Form: Allen Ginsberg’s “American Sentence” 17-syllables
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for Red Wolf Poems #427
Too Easy, Far Gone Do you remember when we were breezy? We laughed like birdsong. Adieu, you said, like wind that slips through windows. Where is your breeze now? Too easy, far gone. Do you remember when we were harmony? A two-part chorus. Cold burns my ears. You still burn my heart. Do you remember…
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Quadrille 75 and Twiglet 117
Draining Dark I recall a broad moon spiked high on treetop forks, a weave of breezes moving the day’s heat in chattering stops. Moon shadows soaking leaves and roots, and all winter we waited for its radiant silk, a milky moon that drained dark from night. For dVerse’s Quadrille #75, include the word…
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Twiglet #113 Constraints
Playing with Twiglet #113, the phrase “a pinch of fog”. Same Thing Four Ways A man’s eyeing my garbage bins, Gnats heavy around his head. He’s thinner than a pinch of fog. I’m trying not to be annoyed. I’m trying not to be annoyed. A man’s eyeing my garbage bins, He’s thinner than a pinch…
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Quadrille #73
A Gathered Net And what if my brown-eyed wishes gathered into a fisherman’s net, into oil and greased twine and knot, and soused silver-finned fish big as a whitened loaf. Would all my wishes come home to roost, if my wishes were kisses, would I be loved. dVerse Quadrille #73
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for Twiglet #112
A House of Sticks and Straw There’s a place in my head where I sing to myself. Talk to myself. A space for my very small voice. I’m loud and bold inside my head, but in truth I’m a half empty cup pretending that I’m half full. And, carrying a tune is no small thing.…
It's Still Life 