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Twiglet #44 “a bare room”
Dear Departed It looks like the outside in here with shadows feasting on dust, on webs and invisible draughts, and dried leaves dancing the floor. A creaking space. Empty. No echoes of your goodbye goodbye goodbye. Twiglet #44 “a bare room”
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In the Dumpster for Miz Quickly
Conflicted these are autumn’s dying days, when my presence is a stain, a conflict of colour with the sun, when I am little more than my shadow (it folds and fits neatly beneath my feet), and there it remains, constrained, until I move. or die. for the marvellous Miz Quickly’s Dumpster Dive Based…
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de-Grammer for dVerse
Another Cloud I knew a girl, she grew she grew, a hued music lived inside her, finger-dancing across her knees. Another day, acid-etched, another soft-edge cloud spilled, another bird’s scribbling word. And her cat’s the colour of sunset. It keeps itself just beyond her dancing-fingers reach. for dVerse and Gnomes
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Sleeping for dVerse
The Ragged Edge of Sleep I. Even as I dream, I hear his sleep. I’ve come to expect it, the way you expect water to be wet, and I wonder about the depth of my dreams if his sleep was no longer mine to hear. II. Mine was an embalmering sleep, and I dreamt of…
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Twiglet #43
The Colour of Air It smells of cow, he says, and I tell him that’s because this is old farm land. Cows and pigs. And we watch the evening sky lose its draping Sussex blue, the air folding into thick hints of pink — my reckoning, it’s a few centuries worth of urine rising up…
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Friday Forms: #2 Wood Smoke
Kiss Us Bye Wax the moon, and scrub the sky, Our days of summer, Our ways of green. Drown in amber, ruby leaves, Still as baby’s sleep, still My days shall speed. Oh when autumn comes, blossoms Kiss us bye. Greenest promise, Ever after, summer falls. Acrostic poem form for Gnomes
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Visuals #2 for Miz Quickly
II. Cold Dark He says I’m this, and I’m this, and he’s pointing at 2 words he just wrote on the back of his hand, as if tattooing his character within his reach, as if conjugating his persona. It’s a peculiar moment — leaves me dumped upside down. Leaves me wondering about monsters lurking in…
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Friday Forms: Acrostic “Lock”
Lock Like those dark times of despair, Or perilous paths and folly, she Could never let the pain lock her Kind heart or principles away. Acrostic poem form for Gnomes
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Visuals for Miz Quickly
I. Disconnect He’s lost his mind to her legs up to there. Their hands misbehaving. They’re toggled on hot. A stuffed crust pepperoni. And she sits on his lap, on his boney knees, hands up her curtains, and he whines, Oh come on, baby. Please. Prompted: Miz Q Does Visual Stuff Image I.
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A Draft for Gnomes Project #1.1
Lines in italics are from “On the Beach” by Neil Young, album On The Beach, 1974. For “Gnomes Poems” Project
It's Still Life 