Tag: #RDP
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2 July: A Six – Brigid’s Journal (revised)
2 July: Glen Affric, Scotland. Brigid leaves the Highlands with quiet hands and a storm behind her—what she carries now can’t be packed. Brigid Leaves the Highlands Brigid twists Connor’s ring from her finger; it clicks against the wooden table—a sound too small for such a leaving. This isn’t abandonment, it’s an offering to the…
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22 June: Endocrine Alchemy
Endocrine Alchemy Hormones are the inkin the body’s love letters … adrenaline’s draft,cortisol’s postscript,oxytocin lickingthe envelope shut. They hum alchemy:turn bread into fire,salt into song,a stranger’s glanceinto a stanza of sweat. and you thoughtyou were just hungry. Written for RDP “hormone”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the…
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21 June: Tightrope
Tightrope And there we werepinching dark to the dark,stars to the night,like moths in love with street lamps.We walked a tightrope-narrow pathin search of a clearingamongst the brackento take a pee. “Did you bring toilet paper?” she asked. And I toppled over,laughing. To her, to whom a thousand kisses traced her face; to her, who…
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10 Sept: RDP Argument
Back Then … A night out for mewas sitting on that batteredwooden bench, the one dedicated to Mrs Bruce Allen,up on the bluff overlooking the bay, and I’d whisper wisheson falling stars, and tuck myselfunder your arm when I shiveredfrom the evening chill, but you only wanted to argue –‘Mondale should’ve won the election.’ And…
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8 Sept: for RDP ‘Thumb”
Knots It was the wayshe’d lick her thumb,and pull a knot throughto the end of a thread. It was magical,as if her mouth helda thousand knots under her tongue. And then she’dlook at the permanent groovein her thumbnailengraved by every thread she’d knotted,and she’d sigh a smallharumph soundof mild irritation. Written for RDP “thumb”. Some artwork is…
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5 Sept: Journal of Thoughts from Last Week
A Journal of Thoughts from Last Week The U In Thunder Orchestra It’s so close that her hands feelit prowling her edges.She feels the pressure of its gripa sleight-of-hand drop of rain. And she opens her handand invites its heart into hers.This sky-bound electrical blipthis quarrel with equilibrium. And she is too damned happy. Written…
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2 September: Journal of Thoughts from Last Week
A Journal of Thoughts from Last Week The I In It (a cadralor poem) Scio Me Nescire – I Know That I Know Nothing I.They call from a glaze of grey skies marked with white stars of geese,a band of loud trombone songsblowing through small clouds. II.This day is pulled by change,a season’s race pipped…
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27 August: The Reality of Real
A Cadralor Poem The Reality of RealI.the stones aren’t real. a palette knife edgesthe cement, chipped paint stone grey matte. II.her shopping bag hangs limp. flaccid. handlehooks over her shoulder. recycled. real plastic. III.he texts women should be sweetlipped andgentle. She replies, “pillock. you’re unreal”. IV.it’s august heat but she wears a woolly scarf.her fiancé…
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22 August: Ink in Thirds and RDP
Transitional Autumn is stripping summer off the treesGreen youth grips a road to brown domainFly high my white flag of short-lived summer Written for Three Line Thursday’s Ink in Thirds (prompt word: path, not be included in the poem), and for Ragtag Daily Prompt “grip”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified…
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16 July: Journal of Thoughts from Last Week
A Journal of Thoughts from Last Week The I In It Tell Me About Lavender and I told her it’s the colourof a pigeon’s feather,a haze over sleepy eyes,of pensive rain, a moth on a blossom,of songs to a rising moon,a star’s early light,what Burton saw in Taylor’s eyes, a fragrant tune,a sound of wordlessness,amber…
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