Tag: quadrille
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dVerse Quadrille #49
A Road and Pork Happiness We’re at a lay-by on the old road to Dover. It’s unexpectedly spring in January, and we dine sitting on folding chairs, eating pork pies and sipping iced tea. This is happiness, you say. Poetry. An oyster’s life. This is a poem, I say. dVerse Quadrille #49 (44…
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dVerse Quadrille #45
Up in Smoke I remember him suffering inside a cloud of smoke in his chair. Rocking. He said he never found his proper place in the world. Claimed his cough was an allergy. He died later that year amidst pipes, cigar boxes, papers and a pitch-sticky spittoon. dVerse Quadrille #45 “Rock”
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dVerse Quadrille #44
Kick Plastic no plastic, no kicking this plastic planet into the long grass. no scrapyard-plastic junkyard, no poisoned water pumps or floating microbeads. rising, rising, and how to hold back a tideline. we’re drinking from a madman’s glass, drinking up desert. nobody trusts a scorpion’s nose. dVerse Quadrille #44 “kick” 44 words
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Twiglet #47
Running Parallel Mum has a dark edge, like sun in and out of clouds, but every story has a bit of meat. I’d know hers anywhere. In one or two of my lives, she’s been my root – roots run parallel. I look like Mum. Mum looks like her father. Same eyes. Jaw. Same frown.…
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Quadrille #34
Of You I was thinking about you as I watched the beauty of clouds. You. Stormy. Like weather fighting the world. You said we’d grow old, pitch peanut shells at the floor, and stalk shadows like dark ruins. I still think of you, and your raucous laughter. A Quadrille for dVerse: 44 words (excluding…
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Quadrille #24 and Miz Quickly’s Day 17
Dead Fly dead fly on the windowsill, whispered speck, legs up as if playing on monkey bars. little bugger won’t be flying anywhere; it’s missing a wing and its red welt eyes lack a point of view. brittle little thing is heading for the garbage bin. for dVerse: Quadrille (44 words) including “whisper”…
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dVerse Quadrille #22
Sliced You’re so random, like an accident or a scar, like when you blurted out I don’t understand pickled cows sliced in half. Poor beast. It’s been Hirst’ed. Damien’ed. Like that canvas of dead black flies, or framed shells and cigarettes. I mean — bite me for dVerse: Quadrille #22 “Scar” – 44 words in…
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dVerse Quadrille #19
Those In-Between Times During that lost in-between time, when my pen drew dust, and my thoughts scattered, and my inner voice wrote every conversation — During that no-nothing time, I didn’t know myself, cared little for myself; broken hearts have no spark. And I became my worst enemy. for dVerse: Quadrille #19. Forty-four…
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dVerse Quadrille #18
Forty-Four Words About Clouds I watched white-eyed clouds today as they gnawed at the sky, carved shapes that sang of twisted and turning lifetimes. They were incarnations of dreams, of paused imagination forged like cast iron mountains and stretching long as cirrus grass. I lay there. Watching. Drowning. dVerse’s Monday Quadrille (i.e.., 44…
It's Still Life 